Vindico Atrum
by FirePhoenix8
Summary: Harry carves out his own path to become something beyond a Dark Lord. Durmstrang, Dark Arts, dueling, powers, heritage, horcruxes, hallows, Necromancy, Voldemort, Tom, Draco, Grindelwald. Sequel to The Black Heir.
1. Lessons with a Dark Lord

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 1**

The following day, on Sunday, after his last class of the weekend, Orion had surreptitiously cast a parsel-invisibility spell on himself and gone to the wizarding village of Sølvanghøj, well outside Durmstrang's anti-apparition wards.

Once he stood at the outskirts of the village, he had used the time-turner to go back in time three hours –knowing that his other would be seen in class- and he had summarily apparated into Black Manor. From there, he wasted no time in flooing directly into Potter Manor.

It was a convoluted way of getting there, since apparating directly into Potter Manor would have been much easier, but he rather take the precaution of triangulating through Black Manor in case someone had the idea of tracing his apparations. And since the use of the floo network at Black Manor couldn't be detected thanks to the Manor's ancient wards, his method was the best option available to him, so that no one could ever find out that he accessed Potter Manor; which no one knew was available to him, since only Grindelwald and he knew that he had Potter blood in him.

The instant he stepped out from the fireplace and flicked his wand to clean his robes from dust, he glanced around the beautiful main parlor of Potter Manor, his mind still swirling with the thoughts which had revolved in his head during the day.

After making his final decision the previous night, he had felt a new sense of purpose, as if he was entering a new stage in his life, but that hadn't quelled the influx of questions which had popped into his mind.

At last, Orion caught sight of Grindelwald, who seemed to be calmly expecting him. His eyes marginally widened as he inspected the older wizard; it still surprised him that the maturely handsome wizard before him was the same he had rescued from Nurmengard.

The wizard looked like a bastion of power, confidence, and strength; and he had a debonair, suave air which still disconcerted Orion.

Grindelwald was elegantly sprawled over an armchair, besides a blazing fireplace. In addition to dark trousers, riding boots, and a partially unbuttoned shirt, the wizard wore an expression surely inherited from some debauched aristocrat ancestor who had only narrowly cheated a burning pyre during the witch-hunt era. As he idly tapped a riding crop against the boot swung over one of his knees, he smirked at Orion, and gestured for him to take a seat at a damask-covered chaise longue.

Pulling a nonchalant expression over his features, Orion sat down, and stared back at him, doing his best to not trail again his inspective gaze over the wizard.

"You went out for a ride?" said Orion, arching an eyebrow.

Grindelwald's smirk widened. "I did. You have a good stock of horses and pegasi in your stables, and it has been some time since I've indulged in one of my favorite pastimes. But don't fret, mein junge, the wards make it impossible for anyone to see me riding or flying around your manor's grounds."

"Yeah, I know that," interjected Orion calmly. "It doesn't worry me. You have the liberty to do whatever you want whilst you're here."

"That's very generous of you," said Grindewald, his lips quirking into a crooked smile. Suddenly, his features turned grave, and he said sternly, "I expected you yesterday, to begin your training."

Orion straightened his shoulders, and said curtly, "I had some things I needed to take care of first."

"Ja," said Grindelwald conversationally, though he stared at him hawkeyed, "I know."

"You know?" repeated Orion, frowning at him.

"I've been informed," clarified Grindelwald, tapping his forehead.

Orion gazed at him intently. "The spirits told you about our… discussion."

"They did," said Grindelwald calmly. "I was quite certain that you would tell them that I was with you, and I was sure that your meeting with them wouldn't turn out well. Therefore, I opened my mind to grant them access, in case they wanted to communicate with me." He broadly smirked at him. "And I was right in all accounts. They contacted me the second you left the Crypt; you left them in quite a state. Morgana, particularly, was quite… shall I say, twitchy. And she wants you to go back."

"I'm not going back," snapped Orion crisply. "Besides, if she wants to speak to me she can materialize before me in Durmstrang, with no need for me to go into the Crypt; she has done it before."

"Yes, but each time she materializes, she consumes much of the magic they have left, and she can't afford to do that. They spend less magic if they materialize inside the Crypt, close to their bodies." Grindelwald quirked an eyebrow. "I expected you to have already realized this."

"I hadn't thought about it," said Orion, with a slight frown on his forehead. "So that's why she has only materialized twice before outside of the Crypt…"

"Exactly," said Grindelwald. Abruptly, he shifted forwards in his seat, his expression animated with relish, as a crooked smile spread over his features. "Is it true that you promised to kill them?"

"I did."

Grindelwald's smile turned into a satisfied smirk. "Why?"

"Revenge," said Orion gravely.

Grindelwald quirked an eyebrow. "For revenge?"

"Yes," said Orion curtly, "because of what they did to my mother, to Tom, to Cadmus, and to Slytherin; so that they can never do anything like it again. Is there a better reason to kill someone than revenge?"

Grindelwald widely smirked at him, and strongly patted him on the shoulder. "There isn't, mein junge."

"I've turned rogue, Gellert," said Orion quietly, piercing him with his eyes. "That doesn't matter to you, does it? You'll still train me?"

Grindelwald chuckled under his breath, and said rambunctiously, "Of course I will! I had been hoping that you'd break away from them, and you have done it quicker than I had foreseen, mein junge. Now you'll truly be able to carve out your own path, you'll be able to become an independent Dark Lord if you wish!"

"Yeah," said Orion dismissively, though he felt immensely relieved. He glanced at him, and said with a small frown, "How much did they tell you about what we discussed?"

"Everything."

Orion's frown deepened. "They surely knew that you would still help me out, since you also parted ways from them, so why did they contact you? Why did they tell you what we discussed?"

"Because they're desperate to have you back in their grasp," said Grindelwald, chortling with vicious amusement, "and they would resort to the measure of asking me for help, since they know that I also want you to become the Vindico. And because I'm the only one in a position to influence you, since they know I want to mentor you."

"Is that what you're doing, influencing me?" said Orion briskly, immediately stiffening. "Do you also want to use me?"

Grindelwald frowned at him, and said sharply, "I don't want to use you. It's smart of you to be suspicious about everyone's motives, mein junge, but not mine."

"How can I be sure of that?" gritted out Orion, intently scrutinizing him. "In the last few days I've discovered such an expansive web of manipulations that I no longer feel that I can trust anyone. I wouldn't put it past you to be involved in things I'm not aware of. You told me, that besides wanting the Vindico to arise at last, you had your own reason for mentoring me-"

"That reason is my own," said Grindelwald sharply, pulling up to his full height as he stared down at him, "and I'm not obliged to disclose it to you. Never forget, junge, that from now on, I'm your mentor and you're my apprentice, and I demand that you behave as such. Beware of the way you deal with me."

"That doesn't answer my question-"

"I told you that I'm not using you," snapped Grindelwald, darkly scowling at him. "I'm offering my time to train you, when I could be doing anything else I wished. I even offered you the possibility of killing me first, so that you can try to spare your spouse's life. I can leave and you can manage on your own if you feel you can't trust me."

"No!" said Orion immediately, swiftly standing up and grabbing Grindelwald's arm when the wizard made a move to leave the room. "I'm sorry, it's just that-"

"If you don't fully trust me," interrupted Grindewald, his expression hard, "this will never work. Decide now; I won't waste my time with you if we have to work with this impediment."

Orion released him and tiredly rubbed his forehead, before he glanced up at him and said quietly, "I trust you, Gellert. It's just that this whole day I've been thinking over and over again about all what the spirits have done. I might know all the relevant information regarding the VA, but I still have many questions in my mind-"

"Such as?" interrupted Grindelwald shortly.

"I…" said Orion uncertainly, before he gestured for them to take a seat. "Please, let's sit down to discuss this more comfortably."

Grindelwald curtly nodded, before calmly stretching on his plush armchair, as Orion sat across from him, trying to order his thoughts.

"All right," said Orion quietly. "I know that the spirits, by the use of the Aux Atrum and their own mind-magic, have been manipulating the lives of countless wizards and witches throughout history, to create VA candidates, and to create Dark Lords which would lead the Dark in the absence of a candidate, and who would be killed by a candidate who wished to undergo the VA test. Furthermore, they also compelled other wizards and witches to research matters important for them, like they did with Slytherin and his research in blood. They also compelled others to create powerful magical objects, like they did with the Peverells, and..." He gazed up at Grindelwald, piercing his eyes into his. "And like they did with Voldemort, to make him find a way to create more than one horcrux. Did the spirits tell you about that as well?"

"They did," said Grindelwald nonchalantly.

Orion scrutinized him, before saying, "Yet you don't seem surprised. You suspected it already, didn't you? But you didn't tell me-"

"I suspected that they had used the boy," said Grindelwald impassively, "ever since I met him when he dropped in my Berlin Headquarters. I could detect something strange in him; that he wasn't completely human, if you will. And I knew the spirits had also him tagged as a possible Vindico candidate. Furthermore, I knew you were his horcrux the first time I saw you. So, nein, it didn't surprise me when the spirits told me about it yesterday. I didn't tell you my suspicions, because quite frankly, what they did to him doesn't matter to me. Moreover, I wasn't completely certain if I was right about what they had compelled him to do." His lips twitched, and he added coolly, his voice carrying veiled amusement, "And I preferred that you discovered it during your confrontation with the spirits, since I didn't want to be subjected to an explosion of that infamous, nasty temper of yours."

"My temper isn't infamous or nasty!" huffed Orion indignantly, before waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, never mind. My point is that they have influenced every important dark bloodline there is, but…" He gazed at him intently, before continuing, "They didn't mention my father. He was the Head of the main Black line; he was Cadmus Peverell's and Ursula Black's direct descendant. His bloodline is even more important than the Malfoys and the secondary Black line, and I know they planned on compelling Draco Malfoy if it was necessary… So, did they do something to my father?"

Grindelwald frowned at him in deep thought. "This is what has been on your mind?" When Orion nodded, he continued pensively, "Given the information I have and that you've supplied to me, I would say that they would have compelled him if they could."

"What do you mean?" said Orion, deeply frowning.

"Well," said Grindelwald conversationally, "think about it, mein junge. Your father certainly entered their plans; they certainly wanted to match him with someone dark and powerful in order to strengthen the Black bloodline, but he truly loved your mother, according to what you've told me. If he was already in love with someone, even if an Aux had cast a compulsion on him, he wouldn't have forgotten his love for your mother easily." His features adopted a distasteful expression. "At the risk of sounding like a sappy light witch, I have to say that love is one of the most powerful emotions; the Light is right in that account. Love isn't easily manipulated, not real love, at least. The spirits couldn't control your mother either, could they? It is because of that very same reason that, perhaps, they couldn't influence your father. Maybe, if the spirits had had more time to work on him, they would have accomplished it in the end, but never forget that your father was imprisoned in Azkaban not long after leaving Hogwarts, when he was still young-"

"So they didn't have the chance to influence him," interrupted Orion, his eyes widening, "because in Azkaban his mind was being assaulted by Dementors… A compulsion wouldn't last too long in a mind being affected by Dementors! And he was young, yes… perhaps they didn't cast a compulsion on him during Hogwarts because they thought they had time to influence him, they couldn't know that he would be imprisoned-"

"Precisely," said Grindelwald. "We can't really know if someone casted a compulsion on your father during his Hogwarts years, but if they did, it certainly didn't work, since he had a child with a witch of his choosing. And it's also possible that the spirits still hadn't found the best match for your father at that time, so they could have been waiting until then to compel him. But he was imprisoned not long afterwards, and by then –by being a wizard who supposedly was going to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban- they couldn't use him any longer. Even if he was very important to them because of his bloodline, you have to remember that the spirits can only use mind-magic, and the Aux Atrum operate covertly, so they couldn't afford to break out someone like your father just because he was important for their designs, since questions would have been asked, and actions like those could reveal their existence. And one of the things the spirits treasure immensely is the secret that they still exist."

Orion nodded in agreement. "Yes, I see it now." He frowned, and added pensively, "But Gellert, doesn't it seem to you that they always target certain bloodlines?"

"Ja, of course they do," said Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow. "I thought that you had discovered that they have been using Slytherin's-"

"Yes, yes," interrupted Orion impatiently, "I know that they have been using Slytherin's methods to detect magic in blood. I read his journals, I know which potions and dark spells can be used to analyze blood and detect its composition and magnitude of power. And I know it's fairly simple to get hold of a blood sample of anyone. What I meant is that they have been trying to 'fix' bloodlines even before they really knew how; even before they made Slytherin research the subject. So before Slytherin's time, how did they know which bloodlines to manipulate?"

Grindelwald sternly frowned at him. "And I thought you were bright… How do you think they knew, junge?"

"Er, I…" said Orion uncertainly. In a second, he looked at him sheepishly. "Oh, yeah, I forgot. They've been around for ages, since the time when the bloodlines were purer and stronger than now. So when they lived they could already see from which bloodlines powerful wizards and witches came from, and they could trace those lines throughout the centuries. Even if the lines have been convolutedly mixing together, they could have traced them because they've lived throughout all those centuries, and they did say that they were always gathering knowledge. They certainly gathered information about how the lines have been merging and crossing. But that's a gigantic task, so much information spanned through the centuries-"

"That's what the Archive is for," interjected Grindelwald casually.

Orion blinked at him. "What archive?"

"Seriously, mein junge," said Grindelwald gravely, "all knowledge must be catalogued and preserved; especially precious information on the origins and crossings of our bloodlines. Did you really believe that the spirits were able to keep all that information in their minds?"

Orion's mouth hung open, before he snapped it shut, and shifted forwards, his eyes shining eagerly, "There are books with that information? Merlin's staff! Houses nowadays can't trace their bloodlines more than seven centuries back; not even the Malfoys can, and they are one of the houses which have spent more resources and energy in the matter of tracing their ancestry way back! And you're telling me that there's an archive with information on bloodlines since their origin! Where is it? I need to-"

"Don't get excited, junge," said Grindelwald, his lips twitching with amusement, "no one except the spirits and the Aux leader has access to the Archive. They zealously guard it, and no one has been able to discover where it is or how to access it."

"But do you realize what could be done with that information?" said Orion, breathlessly. "It's precious! By Merlin, I would give anything to know where my bloodlines come from and how they have been mixing with others. The most I know about my Black and Potter bloodlines is that Ursula Black, Cadmus and Ignotus Peverell were some of its ancestors, but who was there before them? I could learn so much from-"

"Of course I realize the vast potential of what can be done with the Archive," interrupted Grindelwald, smiling at him understandingly. "Knowledge is power; even for more reason when it regards blood and you are one of the few who wields it. Dunkelheit knows that I repeatedly tried to get my hands on the Archive in the past."

Orion lurched to his feet, and stared at Grindelwald with wide, bright eyes. "I don't think you realize the full potential of the Archive! If the spirits have been gathering information on the origins and crossings of all relevant bloodlines, then the Archive is not only a historical compendium of our lines, but also, from the point when the spirits started using Slytherin's theories, it's a detailed account of Slytherin's research put into practice! It contains endless observations of the results of research experiments conducted throughout the ages on all wizarding kind!"

He started to animatedly pace in front of the wizard, continuing exultantly, "I only have one chapter left to translate of Slytherin's journals, and then I'm giving it to Severus and I know he'll jump at the opportunity of replicating Slytherin's experiments, and he's an accredited Potions Master! If he proves that Slytherin's methods are correct, then his results will be believed by everyone. And the information of the Archive is the proof to back the theories! Then all that can be made public, and people will see that the Dark has been right all along, and-"

"And they still wouldn't necessarily believe what they don't want to believe," interrupted Grindelwald sternly. "Even if they did, what do you think would happen when some lines discovered that perhaps they aren't as pure as they thought? Or when some dark bloodline saw that they came from a light ancestor? It would be a mess, it would be chaotic. Usually, knowledge is best handled by a few, and not by the public. With that information you could sink the social standing and political power of many houses, both light and dark. It's best to use that information as a bargaining chip to control those houses, instead of just freely giving it out to everyone."

Orion spun around to look at him, with a wide grin of triumph on his face. "It doesn't matter if they don't want to believe it, or if they don't like what they find out about their lines. By Merlin, if they don't want to see the truth, then let them remain ignorant and suffer the consequences! I couldn't care less; there are other ways, just as you said. But I'm not referring to blackmail, as you suggested, though that could be useful, I'll have to think about it…"

His grin turned into a beaming smile as he placed his palms on Grindelwald's back rest, at both sides of the wizard's head, while he inched his face close to his, and said excitedly, "Don't you see? If I had that information and studied it, I would know exactly how blood crossings work! That registry of applied Slytherin research, spanned through the centuries, would tell me precisely what measures have to be taken to solve the problem between the Sources! Magic is all about blood, after all!"

Grindelwald shook his head. "The spirits would never grant you access to the Archive, not even if you became the Vindico. The Archive holds a detailed account of all what they have done; of how they've manipulated every single bloodline, including yours. You would discover many other of their disagreeable dealings. They will never give that information to you."

"Then I'll take it from them," snapped Orion, pulling away from him.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" said Grindelwald coolly.

Orion crossed his arms over his chest, and said sharply, "I told you that I would kill them. But not before finding out about the test and what to do with the Hallows, and certainly not before they tell me how to access the Archive."

Grindelwald arched an eyebrow, and pierced him with a hawkeyed gaze. "Are you aware of what you'll have to do to be able to, not only kill them, but rip that information from them?"

"Yes," said Orion, his jaw tightening. "I can only do either of those things if I'm a Necromancer."

"Precisely," said Grindelwald gravely, "only a full-fledged Necromancer can kill and manipulate spirits, mein junge. Are you telling me that you've already decided to become one?"

"I wasn't going to decided on that yet," said Orion stiffly. "But this is one more reason to consider doing it."

"Then I suggest you make your decision soon," interjected Grindelwald sternly. "The longer you take the harder it will be for you later."

"I know," said Orion, heavily sighing as he dropped his arms to his sides and took a seat. He gazed up at him, and said quietly, "What would you do?"

"In your place," said Grindelwald, smirking at him, "I would become a Necromancer without a second thought, but that's because I consider the accumulation of power to be the most important goal in life." He stared at Orion, and added, "But you're different from me. You don't consider power as an aim in itself, but as a means to help those you care for. The decision has to be your own."

Orion nodded and raked his fingers through his hair. "Alright, I'll seriously think about it. But I… well, I don't feel prepared to make the choice, yet."

"I can understand that," said Grindelwald, offering him a crooked, supportive smile. "Take your time in choosing, knowing that you won't regret it, because there isn't a point of return when you start taking the path of becoming a full-fledged Necromancer."

"I know," said Orion grimly.

"You should also consider," said Grindelwald quietly, intently regarding him, "that if you're planning on only killing me, you'll have to find a way to become more powerful. If you want to spare your spouse, then you must gather power by other means. By becoming a Necromancer you would be doing just that. Not to mention that the ability will be highly useful in battle." His hazel eyes shone with excitement, and he added, "You could raise armies from the dead of the battlefield, you could trap and destroy the souls of your enemies, you could-"

"I know," interrupted Orion sharply, rising up a hand. "I know perfectly well the damage a Necromancer can do in battle, but if I become one, I wouldn't use my abilities in such a way." He pierced the older wizard with his eyes, and said sternly, "Souls are the most precious component of our being, Gellert, I wouldn't destroy them, not even the souls of my enemies."

Grindelwald frowned at him, and said with sharp exasperation, "Then you would be wasting your abilities, mein junge." He heavily sighed, and waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind, you'll eventually realize that not using all your powers and abilities is the worst thing you can do in battle, if you're trying to obtain a swift victory. Scruples are an impediment in war, junge. Scruples get your followers killed."

Orion shook his head in disagreement but decided to drop the subject.

"What will the spirits do now?" he said with a troubled frown.

Grindelwald smirked at him. "They will observe every step you take, they will make the Aux watch you like hawks, but they won't intervene unless you give them reason to. And it seems to me that you're already resolved in becoming the Vindico, so they'll leave you alone until you've gathered the last Hallow." His smirk widened, and he said conspiratorially, "It's a good thing you haven't told them that you're also a Potter, mein junge, because if they knew, they would do everything in their power to have you in their grasp again. As things stand now, they know you are a Vindico candidate with fairly good chances to undergo the test, but they don't know how much you really are."

He chortled with amusement. "If they really knew, by Dunkelheit, if they really knew you wouldn't have been able to leave the Crypt so easily!" He squinted away a tear of mirth with a fingertip. "Ah, I would have loved to have seen that scene playing out!"

"Yes, yes," said Orion with a roll of his eyes, "it would have been infinitely amusing for you and torture for me, I'm sure." He sighed and rested his back on his chair, before grinning at him. "Well, the issue is that they'll leave me alone for the time being, that's good enough for me. I have much to do and I rather not have them breathing down my neck."

"Quite," said Grindelwald, before he clapped his hands and stood up. He broadly smirked at Orion with lively eagerness. "Shall we finally begin our first lesson?"

Orion gazed up at him, and he couldn't help thinking that there was something of a sadistic pleasure in the wizard's smirk, and he inwardly groaned; the lessons would be hell for him, he knew it.

* * *

Orion writhed on the floor, as blood spewed from his mouth and needles of agony seared through his entire body, curling in on himself as he attempted to protect his body from an onslaught of curses.

"St-op!" he choked out. "Please - Stop!"

Grindelwald darkly scowled, and jerked his wrist to halt the assault of wandless curses on his pupil, eyeing him with a dissatisfied expression on his face.

"You have to be able to think beyond the pain!" he snapped impatiently. "You have to become used to the pain, junge. You can't ask your enemies to stop while they're attacking you! You have to be able to use your dark magic even when you're agonizing. Clear your mind from the pain; you know Occlumency, junge, use it!"

Orion coughed out a spurt of blood as he weakly crouched on his hands and knees, feeling tears prick the back of his eyes, but holding them in.

He picked himself up from the floor and staggered a step back; he was exhausted, they had been at it for hours and he still didn't understand what the older wizard expected of him. He wasn't allowed to use his wand, and he had been subjected to fierce attack after attack, the other wizard giving him no quarter and no time to respond. He had been writhing and screaming his throat raw on the floor more time than he had been standing up.

Orion eyed the wizard with exhaustion, and said hoarsely, "How do you do it? You've been continuously using wandless magic for four hours and you're not tired, how-"

"The more you practice your wandless magic," interrupted Grindelwald curtly, "the easier it is to use and the longer it takes for you to feel some level of magical exhaustion." He eyed him critically, and added, "I'll make you practice on that as well, so that you can last for hours on end without feeling any magical fatigue." His expression turned hard, and he said sharply, "You need more training than I suspected. We'll need to considerably widen your threshold of pain before your mind shuts down and you're rendered useless and unable to cast magic-"

"So you're going to keep torturing me?" interrupted Orion crisply, wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve. "And I'm still not supposed to defend myself with my wand?"

"Ja," said Grindelwald sharply, "I'm going to torture you until you're able to use your dark magic against me even when you're agonizing on the floor! At present, you wouldn't stand a chance against Dumbledore!"

Orion heavily sighed and fiercely rubbed his forehead. "I told you that my dark magic doesn't work like that. I cannot simply call it forth and use it offensively on a whim-"

"Then I'll keep torturing you until you can," said Grindelwald harshly. "I know you can do it, you did it in Nurmengard-"

"That was different!" interjected Orion with tired exasperation. "The circumstances were different-"

"Explain," demanded Grindewald, frowning at him.

Orion sighed and carded his fingers through his hair. "It's easier for me to use my dark magic when I'm under stress, when my own magic feels my need to use it. I… er, I don't know how to explain it, but each time I've needed it, my dark magic has risen to the occasion. In normal circumstances, I need to be very concentrated to be able to use it offensively without anything threatening me-"

"Don't I seem menacing enough to you?" interrupted Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow.

"Er- not really," said Orion sheepishly. "I know you're training me, so I don't feel threatened by you."

Grindelwald smirked manically. "Well, let me correct that. I can certainly come up with nastier curses, mein junge."

* * *

"Ja, good, gut!" cried Grindelwald jovially, from within a blazing prison of black flames which surrounded him.

Orion weakly chuckled from his kneeling position on the floor, and dropped his hand, making the walls of black fire summarily disappear.

"You're improving, mein junge," said Grindelwald with satisfaction, calmly walking towards him. "I'll make you practice until you can do it without a thought and without the need to feel threatened!"

"Oh, great," sarcastically grumbled Orion under his breath, "more incoming torture..."

He finally stood up with great effort and glanced down at his body. His robes were completely bloodied and shred to pieces, and he didn't even want to think about all the new scars Grindelwald had given him. Those would heal eventually, that didn't matter to him, but he felt he was about to collapse; his nerve endings still tingled and snapped with all the ravaging pain he had experienced, and his mind seemed about to close in on itself. He really hoped Grindelwald was right when saying that he would get so used to the pain and that he would stop feeling it at some point.

Even now, after having obeyed the older wizard and having used his skills in Occlumency to compartmentalize his mind and exclude the pain, he still couldn't manage to quickly cast wandless spells, or use his dark magic to defend himself against an onslaught of curses. The pain still felt too raw and intense, and no matter how much he tried to push it away from his thoughts, his mind still lost itself in a fog of incoherence in the midst of searing waves of pain.

Orion sighed and stumblingly straightened his shredded robes, his mind dizzy with lightheadedness. Grindelwald said he would get used to it; he had to have some faith.

"Good," said Grindelwald, when he had reached him. "We'll continue this lesson next time. Now I want to start on something new."

Orion glanced at his watch with worry. "It's already three in the morning, Gellert, and at eight I have to be in Hogwarts-"

"One more hour," interrupted Grindewald sternly. "This is important. You asked me to teach you how to duel with the simultaneous use of wandless, nonverbal and wand magic, and you asked me to help you control your dark magic. And I'll do all that in the subsequent lessons; it will take time, but you'll eventually learn how to do it. But this is much more important, and it will be more difficult for you than the rest. We have to begin with this as soon as possible."

Orion arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?"

"It's easy for you to call forth your dark magic with no offensive aim, correct?" said Grindelwald, piercing him with his eyes. Orion nodded, and he demanded, "Show me."

Orion blinked at him, disconcerted, before he simply raised up a hand and extended his palm, swiftly conjuring a swirling orb of undulating dark water.

"Why water?" said Grindelwald calmly.

Orion frowned at him. "What do you mean?" He closed his hand, the orb disappearing as the magic seeped into his body again, and he quickly opened it again, his palm now holding a small, blazing column of black flames. "I can also produce fire, wind, or the water in ice form, and-"

"And you'll learn how to use your magic in earth form as well," interrupted Grindelwald impassively, "as you did in Nurmengard. Ja, and you'll learn how to use all of them for offensive purposes, without needing to concentrate too hard for it or without the circumstances mattering. I didn't mean that. What I asked was, why those forms?"

"Er, I…" said Orion uncertainly, with a frown of puzzlement and deep thought spreading on his forehead. "I'm not sure. The first time I was able to call forth my dark magic, it happened as fire, then as water, and later as wind. I suppose… well, I suppose it's that way because Dark Magic comes from nature, from the Earth, so it takes the forms of the elements-"

"All Magic comes from the Earth, the distinction is the nature of it," interrupted Grindelwald curtly, "but that's not the point. You're molding your magic into preconceived forms you already know. You did it subconsciously, without giving it much thought, but by giving it form, you're limiting it, making your dark magic come forth weaker than it would be if it was unrestrained."

Orion gawked at him.

"But all this time I've been practicing to shape my magic into these forms! Magic has to be controlled, if not, how can I use it? In what other way should it come forth? Are you telling me that I've spent all these years trying to control my magic in a way that's useless? I don't understand-"

"I didn't say it was useless," interjected Grindelwald sternly. "Giving your magic the forms of the elements is highly useful, as you've just proved when you imprisoned me with fire. But skilled and powerful wizards can find a way of fighting against that. They'll eventually find a way to protect themselves from your magic in that form. Don't you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" He pierced him with his hazel eyes, and said impatiently, "Think, mein junge. I told you once that I couldn't transform my dark magic into its most powerful state, but I know you've done it before, they told me about it."

Orion frowned at him, and suddenly, his eyes widened.

"That first time, in Azkaban… In that occasion, my magic was wild! It was destroying everything around us, but it wasn't doing anything to me or my father-"

"Exactly," said Grindelwald with satisfaction. "Powerful wizards are able to cast wandless spells, but to take magic from their very own inner core, to draw their magic and make it leave their body and obey their commands without spells, just with thought, that has only been done by a very few in the past. I should have been able to do it, but I never could, I didn't have the intensity of power required for it." He crookedly smirked at him. "But you can, and there lies your true power, mein junge. There lies the difference between us; between you and the rest of the failed candidates. That's what a candidate with real chances of succeeding has to be able to do-"

"But I never could!" interjected Orion in agitation. "Whatever they have told you is incorrect. I've never been able to do it often, and when it happened, it was always out of my control! I've never learned how to do it, and I don't think I can." He jerkily carded his fingers through his hair. "I told you that my dark magic easily arose in certain situations, but what you're referring to has only happened three times before, and I had nothing to do with it!" He grimly shook his head. "If this is what you expect of me, you're going to be vastly disappointed. I don't know how it happened!"

"Then I'll help you realize it," said Grindelwald calmly. "I know about your display of dark magic in the Death Chamber; I was told by the spirits, who in turn, where told by Vagnarov. Those ravaging waves of dark magic which shot from your body are the real form of dark magic in its rawest, purest, and most powerful state. That's what dark magic should always be like. Unleashed but subconsciously controlled by you."

"But I didn't control it," insisted Orion, frantically shaking his head. "I didn't know what I was doing! When my dark magic explodes from me like that, it's never intentional. It's always under very pressing and desperate situations."

"Then you have to learn how to do it while being aware of it, and in normal circumstances," said Grindelwald sternly. "Have you never controlled it? Not even once?"

"Er- only once," replied Orion faltering. "At first, it was wild, but then it obeyed my desires." He shrugged his shoulders. "It was as if it understood what I wanted and simply followed what was in my mind."

Grindelwald arched an eyebrow. "Tell me more about it."

Orion clenched his fists, and said quietly, averting his gaze from the wizard, "My muggle uncle attempted to… er, molest me… and then my magic just violently exploded from me. I was angry, furious, filled with dread, fear and hatred, and I wanted him to suffer – I wanted him to die. My dark magic rushed out from me and trapped him; it was like a burst of swirling black waves… It didn't have much form… I don't know, it was simply dark magic… It tore his body to pieces, bit by bit…"

"And you enjoyed it," said Grindelwald, his lips quirking into a wide smirk.

"Merlin, yes," said Orion breathlessly. "I have never felt so powerful as I did at that time. It was strange… It was as if my magic had a mind of its own, but yet, it obeyed my deepest wishes... even if I didn't really do anything…"

"Exactly," said Grindelwald. "That's what you have to learn. Tell me about the other times in which you couldn't control it, and what your emotions were."

"The first time was when I saw my father in his cell in Azkaban, after he had been Kissed," said Orion somberly. "In that occasion, I was filled with sorrow and anger, and I only remember that my magic seemed to consume everything around me, leaving my father and I unharmed. But I wasn't aware of what was going on until Voldemort snapped me out of it. Then it happened at the Death Chamber, when I was trying to pull out Lezander from the Necromancer's Gate. I was desperate, sorrowful, and ridden with guilt. The waves of dark magic threatened everyone around me. I wanted to hurt them; I didn't care about anything but getting Lezander out of the Gate. I wasn't controlling it, but it didn't threaten Calypso. I discovered that later. So, somehow, my magic knew that I didn't want to harm her. And the last time was when my uncle attempted to molest me, which I already explained."

"That second time," said Grindelwald musing aloud, "in the Death Chamber, it seems that even if you weren't aware, you had some slight control over it, since it didn't threaten your friend. So it's clear that you've progressed, though very slowly." He clapped his hands, and said cheerfully, "Well, now we're here so that you learn to master it in a few months."

"A few months?!" said Orion, gaping at him. "It has taken me all my life to control my dark magic! And now you expect me to do it only in a few months? And to do something not even you have done before?!"

"Yes," said Grindelwald, smirking widely. "And not only that. We aren't talking about controlling your dark magic; we're speaking of letting it go free and wild, while just directing it with your thoughts and desires. Dark magic reacts to strong emotions. To cast the Killing Curse you have to feel the hatred inside you; you have to wish that person dead. To cast the Cruciatus Curse, you must yearn to inflict pain, to hear the other person screaming and writhing, you must wish to break them. All dark spells are based on emotions. And your dark magic, as evident from what you've told me, comes easily to you when you feel intense emotions. But that's not our objective. If you can only summon your wild dark magic when you're in life threatening situations, towards you or someone you love, then it's of little use since you would be only wielding it for defensive purposes. You need to summon it without emotions, in order to use it for offense. In a duel, you can't be blinded by rage, or wait until your enemy has you cornered, in order to unleash your dark magic. Therefore, you have to learn how to do it while you're calm and clear-minded."

"How on earth will I do that?!" demanded Orion frantically. "It only obeyed me when my uncle was about to rape me, and now I have to somehow manage to make it obey my thoughts when I'm calm, or when I'm dueling and it doesn't bring up intense emotions?!"

Grindelwald smirked at him. "The answer is simple. You'll practice until you get it right."

Dejectedly, Orion plopped on an armchair and scowled at the wizard.

Suddenly, he turned thoughtful, and he looked up at him hopefully. "What if I try using my Necromantic abilities? I'm always calm when I'm infused with them and my dark magic also rises and fills me up-"

"Nein," interrupted Grindelwald sharply. "That's cheating."

"It's not!" retorted Orion hotly. "It's simply using an ability which comes from my dark magic anyway!"

"You can do that when you've learned how to do it without the need of using your Necromantic powers," said Grindelwald, offering him his most toothy and sadistic grin. "Until then, you'll have to focus on doing it the hard way."

"Fine," sighed Orion, while he jumped to his feet. "Let's start, then."

"Very well," said Grindelwald, crookedly smirking. "First, you need to understand how it works."

He snapped open a hand and, immediately, a large swirling sphere of black water spun above his palm.

"Magic has a mind and will of its own. Dark magic comes from the Earth, it's wild, unbridled and much more powerful when it's unleashed without restrictions."

He opened his other hand and created large black flames which licked his palm and forearm without burning him. The wizard moved his two hands forward, with the orb of water still swirling and the flames still burning, each time higher.

"These preconceived forms of magic are too contained, too defined, too limiting… Dark Magic shouldn't be restricted like this… And that's what you need to learn… With Dark Magic, unruliness and chaos means power. And the wizard who controls the wildest form of Dark Magic is the wizard who will triumph over the rest."

Suddenly, the sphere of water and the flames shot from his palms rising and clashing in mid air, creating a violent swirl of black wind which blew Orion's locks of hair away from his face.

Grindelwald closed his hands and the swirl of wind instantly disappeared, leaving the air briefly buzzing with energy, before everything suddenly stopped.

He pierced Orion with his eyes, and said gravely, "When you first started to control your dark magic, you gave it the form of the elements because it's the simplest way to concentrate our magic, but it's the weakest conduit as well. Our type of dark magic is more powerful if you let it run free and if you only have a mild control over it. You mustn't give it shape, but purpose. You must let the magic understand what you desire, what you want it to do, and it will do it without the need of you giving it any form. Think of it as if it were a force in which you convey what you want, and with which you can do anything when it obeys your thoughts. You must let it run wild, and give it directives, but don't force it. It's Earth Magic, pure Dark Magic, it's meant to be indomitable. You must only guide it; you have to express and focus your desires towards it."

Orion nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I think I understand."

"Then, try it," said Grindelwald, gazing at him expectantly.

* * *

"I can't!" screamed Orion with frustration, just when another curse struck his chest and he dropped to his knees, gnawing his teeth together when a wave of searing pain coursed through him.

He gasped in pain and supported himself with a palm against the floor, as he tightly wrapped an arm around his chest.

"Are you trying to kill me?!" he gritted out through clenched teeth, glaring up at the wizard. "Or just turn me into a crazed, mindless automaton? Stop crucioing me! What good does it do?!"

"First," said Grindelwald utterly unfazed, "it's helping you withstand larger doses of pain, and that will be useful for you in the future, believe me." His expression turned hard, and he added sharply, "And secondly, by attacking you, I'm attempting to make you respond, so that you use the power in you, junge!"

"Well, it isn't working!" snapped Orion heatedly, taking a stumbling step to stand up. "I need to rest. It's already five in the morning, you said one more hour!"

"There's no rest for the powerful," said Grindelwald sternly. "Stop being lazy."

"I'm not lazy," grunted Orion, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his torn sleeve, "I'm demolished!"

"Don't whine, junge. Whining doesn't suit a Dark Lord," said Grindelwald sharply, "even less someone who wants to become the Vindico. If you show any sign of weakness, however insignificant it is, other dark wizards will crush you."

"I already know that; you've told me a thousand times. And I'm not whining," snapped Orion indignantly. "I'm stating a fact!"

Grindelwald snorted. "Well, during a battle you can't afford to feel too tired or too exhausted. You have to keep on fighting, mein junge! So buck up and continue."

"You're a slave driver," darkly grumbled Orion under his breath.

"I'm a Dark Lord," said Grindelwald with a wide, crooked smirk. "What did you expect?"

"Now you sound like Voldemort," muttered Orion, dropping on a couch, completely exhausted. "With one I have enough, thank you very much."

Grindelwald scoffed. "I'm much, much worse than your crimson-eyed pet."

"My pet, indeed," sniggered Orion, broadly grinning at the wizard. "Voldemort would love to hear that."

"If I have the chance, I'll call him that to his face," said Grindelwald, smirking widely as he took a seat across from Orion. He checked the time, and grumbled, "Well, I suppose I should allow you to leave, it's quite late." He glanced at him, and said with a veiled hint of pride, "You haven't done badly for your first lesson, mein junger Gebieter."

"Your young Lord?" scoffed Orion. "Is that my pet name?"

"Are you my pet?" countered Grindelwald with a crooked grin, amusement glinting in his hazel eyes.

"You wish," snorted Orion, rolling his eyes.

"I would," said Grindelwald, shooting him a wicked smile. "If I was about fifty years younger, I certainly would."

Orion choked while a deep flush covered his cheeks.

Grindelwald let out a crow of laughter, slapping a hand on his knee. "Ah, so innocent still…"

"I'm not!" snapped Orion hotly.

"Oh, please do tell," said Grindelwald with a chuckle, his eyes glinting. "This is definitely interesting. Who defiled your virtue?"

"I'm not telling you!" cried Orion indignantly.

Grindelwald's hazel eyes flashed with amusement. "You can think of me as your cool and hip uncle; you can tell me anything."

"Uncle?" snorted Orion, smirking at him. "More of a great, great, annoying and pestering, grandfather, I'd say."

"Watch it, mein junger Lehrling," snapped Grindelwald, darkly glowering at him. "I might be older than you but I can reduce you to smithereens at present." Suddenly, he smirked, and added, "Never cross an old man like me, junge. Now, answer my question."

Orion scowled. "My personal life is no business of yours."

"It isn't," said Grindelwald, his smirk widening, "but as your mentor I have some rights over you, and if I want to stick my nose in your affairs, then there's nothing you can do about it. I can make my lessons hell for you if you don't satisfy my questions."

"They already are; they're no pleasure cruise, that's for sure," grumbled Orion. He sighed, and rubbed his chest, which still ached with lingering pain, before he glanced up at him. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity," said Grindelwald, crookedly smirking. "I have no personal life of my own, so I'm interested in yours. It's the right of the elderly. Now, answer."

Orion rolled his eyes, and replied shortly, "Voldemort."

"Voldemort," repeated Grindelwald, frowning at him. "And who else?"

"Who else?" said Orion, blinking at him, before he snapped heatedly, "No one else, of course! What do you think - that I go around jumping at everyone I fancy?!"

Grindelwald's frown deepened, and he said sharply, "Ja, you should at least enjoy that aspect of your life, junge. You're too young to be tied down to anyone, and let's not mention that your future with him is uncertain, at best, given that-"

"My future with him isn't uncertain," bit out Orion. "I have it all planned out, and-"

"Plan all you want," interrupted Grindelwald curtly, "but if you're serious in becoming the Vindico, you'll have to do what is necessary, and the possibility of sparing him isn't certain. I've already told you that. You can try it, but if you sense that you're not powerful enough, then you'll have to kill him before attempting to undergo the test. It's either that, or you die in it. Therefore, you should open yourself up to the idea of having other partners-"

"We bonded!" snapped Orion angrily. "He's my spouse!"

"So?" said Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow. "I was told that there wasn't a fidelity bind in your magical bond."

Orion glared at him indignantly, and spat, "But there was in the vow I took; and even if the words weren't binding, I wouldn't break them! Are you honestly telling me that I should cheat on him in the eventuality that I'll kill him? I'm not going to kill him!"

"Whether you kill him or not is inconsequential in the matter we're discussing," said Grindelwald sternly. "You shouldn't have tied yourself down when you're so young. And, ja, that's precisely what I'm telling you. The idea of being with others shouldn't be appalling to you. You always have to think what's best for you, and that certainly isn't being the faithful spouse of a Dark Lord you should be ruthless enough to kill. You shouldn't give your loyalty so easily, especially to a wizard who wouldn't think twice about killing you if he knew what you are; if he knew he could take your dark magic."

"You don't know that," bit out Orion incensed. "He's not how you imagine him. He cares for me-"

Grindelwald let out a mocking bark of laughter, before piercing him with a hard gaze. "Don't be naïve, mein junge, he might 'care' for you, but the accumulation of power will always matter much more to him than you."

"You don't know-"

"Of course I do!" snapped Grindelwald angrily. "He's not that much different from me when I was younger, and power was all that mattered to me. He's precisely what a Dark Lord should be; never fool yourself about that, never forget it, or you'll find yourself at the wrong end of his wand!"

"I refuse to discuss this," said Orion stiffly, briskly standing up. "I'm leaving. I need to get to-"

"Nein, you're not," said Grindelwald sharply, before swiftly shooting his hand forward.

In a blink of an eye, before Orion knew what had happened, he found himself tied down to his chair, unable to move an inch.

"What are you doing?!" he snapped, darkly scowling at him.

"I'm doing you a favor," said Grindelwald coolly, relaxedly lounging in his armchair. He calmly raised his hand again, his palm spread before Orion, as his lips parted.

Orion's eyes widened, and he desperately struggled against his binds. "Don't! Don't-"

"Verita lingua!"

The wandless spell inevitably struck him, and suddenly, his mind felt inexplicably light, like a feather floating in space, while a kind of peaceful fog spread throughout it.

Grindelwald gazed at Orion's unfocused, dazed, green eyes, and nodded with satisfaction.

"Gut," said the wizard, scrutinizing him. "Now, tell me, junge, are you truly in love?"

"Yes," said Orion immediately, his voice sounding far away and monotonous.

"With whom?"

"Voldemort. Tom."

Grindelwald heavily sighed, before he demanded, "Have you felt attraction towards others?"

"Yes," replied Orion, his jaw suddenly tightening as his mind struggled to come back to him.

"Towards whom?"

Abruptly, Orion jerked his head to a side, his hands fisting into balls as his whole body trembled.

Grindelwald frowned, and said sharply, "Towards whom, junge!"

"Lezander Zraven," blurted out Orion, his body now rigid as his eyes focused on the wizard's face, his expression turning darker and darker each passing second.

"Who else?"

Orion clenched his jaw, and gritted out, unable to hold his tongue, "Sebastien Valois."

"Hmm, ja," said Grindelwald pensively, nodding with satisfaction, "I knew his grandmother… Powerful bloodline and very influential House… He could help you, he could be useful to you… What are your feelings regarding him?"

"Friendship. Attraction."

Grindelwald expression became disappointed, before he pierced Orion with his eyes, and demanded, "Is there someone else?"

Orion jerkily shook his head, but his lips moved on their own accord, "Yes."

"Who?"

"I – no… I…" muttered Orion, fiercely biting down on his lower lip, as he tried to control his speech, his head shaking repeatedly. "Yes.. I… Dr- Draco Malfoy."

Orion's eyes widened and he held very still, as Grindelwald gazed at him with an arched eyebrow.

"What do you feel towards him?"

"Friendship. Attraction - Love," blurted out Orion, his face paling as his body became as rigid as a board.

Grindelwald's eyebrow shot to his hairline, before a small smile tugged the corner of his lips.

"I see," said the wizard, calmly raising his hand and flicking his wrist.

Abruptly, the great strain over Orion's body disappeared, his mind swiftly rushing into instant clarity, as his eyes completely focused back.

He jumped to his feet, swiftly aiming his wand at Grindelwald, and he roared enraged, "YOU HAD NO RIGHT! You had no right at all, old man! How DARE you-"

Grindelwald gazed at him impassively. "I wanted you to realize that there are other options available to you-"

"I DON'T WANT OTHER OPTIONS!" yelled Orion furiously. "I told you that I love Voldemort!"

"But he's not the only one, is he?" said Grindelwald nonchalantly, pointedly staring at him. "Did my ears deceive me or didn't you just admit that you love Draco Mal-"

"Of course I love him!" spat Orion angrily, jerkily carding his fingers through his hair. "He's my best friend, he's like a brother to me!"

Grindelwald arched an eyebrow disbelievingly. "It doesn't seem that way to me-"

"I don't care what it seems to you, you old codger!" hissed out Orion, inching his wand's tip closer to the wizard's face. "If you ever again dare to cast on me a truth-saying spell, I'll have you begging for mercy, you hear?!"

"Believe it or not," said Grindelwald, completely unfazed, "I did it with your best interest in mind."

"You did it," snapped Orion heatedly, "because you don't want me to be with Voldemort, because you want me to kill him without a thought, just because you want a Vindico to emerge!"

"True," said Grindelwald calmly, "but also because I think that you're allowing yourself to be blinded by emotions, and that's always dangerous for people like us, mein junge. We can't afford it. Trust me when I give you the advice of never falling in love with your enemy-"

"Voldemort isn't my enemy!"

Grindelwald snidely scoffed. "He is, and the problem is that you don't see it." He pierced him with his eyes, and added gravely, "Someone who would harm you to attain his own aims IS your enemy. Can you truly tell me that Voldemort has never hurt you? Can you tell me that he has never attempted to kill you?"

Orion frowned at him, before he clenched his jaw, and said stiffly, "That was before we bonded. That was when he thought that the prophecy…"

He clamped his mouth shut, just as Grindelwald shot him a pointed glance.

"Exactly, mein junge, when he thought the prophecy was real," said the wizard sternly, "and it is."

"He doesn't know that," said Orion crisply.

"You told me yourself that he believes in it."

"He does," said Orion, deeply frowning at him, "but he doesn't know what we do about it."

"And do you truly believe," said Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow, "that he hasn't taken any measures to protect himself from what the prophecy foretells?"

Orion's frown turned troubled and uncertain. "I… er… he hasn't-"

"I assure you that he has," interrupted Grindelwald sharply. "That we aren't aware of it, doesn't mean that he hasn't done something about it." He pierced him with his eyes, and said gravely, "Be careful, mein junge, you're playing with fire. I can only hope that you'll realize it before you get burned."

"I'm well aware of who my spouse is," said Orion curtly. "I know who I'm dealing with."

"Do you really?" retorted Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow. "If you don't believe him capable of hurting or killing you, then I dare say that you don't know him at all."

"I know him much better than anyone else," snapped Orion crisply. "He would never hurt me, and I'm not going to discuss him with you anymore. I know what I'm doing."

With a stiff back, he pocketed his wand and straightened his ruined robes, before saying curtly, "I'm leaving. Thanks for today. I'll see you next weekend."

Grindelwald nodded at him, and Orion closed his eyes and concentrated to apparate to Black Manor as quickly as possible, from where he would get back to Durmstrang.

Just as the tightening of space clenched around his body, pulling him away, he heard Grindelwald's last, grave words.

"Consider the Malfoy boy, mein junge, he has potential. He would be the best partner for you, for what's to come."

* * *

February moved towards March with no change in the weather except that it became windy as well as wet.

And for Orion, days flashed by so quickly in a flurry of activity that, before he noticed, he was already preparing himself for the meeting with the Necromancers Guild on the fifteenth of March.

After more excruciating but highly formative lessons with Grindelwald, he was progressing much better than either of them had expected after the rather disappointing first lesson. Orion had to admit that Grindelwald's sadistic methods seemed to be yielding results.

He could withstand much more pain than he had ever before, he could break through it in order to cast spells, he could neatly compartmentalize his mind with the use of Occlumency to help him order his thoughts to be able to improve in his abilities to simultaneously duel with wandless, nonverbal, and wand magic, and now, he could quickly call forth his dark magic to transform it into elements.

The only snag in the road was the use of what Grindelwald had pegged as his 'rohe dunkle Magie'. Only once had his dark magic exploded from him in a burst of searing waves, and that had been when Grindelwald had relentlessly jeered about his pathetic need for love which had driven him to become the plaything of the wizard who had killed his mother.

After hours of quietly taking countless snide remarks, Orion had simply lost all measure of restraint over his temper and over the angry sizzling of his dark magic. Before he knew what had happened, he saw Grindelwald being flung through the air in a sea of scorching waves of pure dark magic. The older wizard had crashed against a wall and lost consciousness for a few minutes, before he had nonchalantly stood up with a crooked, satisfied smirk tugging his lips.

Orion attributed the success more to his temper than anything else, but at least it had happened once. He had to admit that it was an improvement, since, before, it would have taken a very dire situation for his raw dark magic to come forth. But he recognized that he still had a very long way to go.

Even though Grindelwald had been right in all accounts, given that he had developed a wider threshold of pain and that the use of wandless magic had started to not tire him as much as before, he still needed a lot of practice in dueling and in using his dark magic for offensive purposes.

In each lesson, Grindelwald taught him new ways of using his dark magic in elemental form for duels and battles, and he practiced it further whenever he had a spare moment in Durmstrang, since he got crucioed every time the older wizard didn't see an improvement in his skills from one weekend to the next.

Nevertheless, he paid a high price for all his progress. There wasn't an inch of his body which hadn't been covered by some scar at some point, and he had to constantly use glamours to cover them while they healed. Moreover, the house-elves of Potter Manor were spending a fortune in buying him healing potions, and it didn't pass a day in which he didn't wince each time he sat or each time someone patted him on the shoulder.

Not to mention, that even with the constant use of the time-turner, he barely got a few hours of sleep each day. If it wasn't class at Hogwarts or Durmstrang, it was lessons with Grindelwald, study session of Cadmus' journal, translating the last chapter of Slytherin's research journals, or being occupied with the DA's lessons.

He barely saw his friends anymore. Calypso still kept to herself and was frenziedly studying at all times, which such a focus that only served to confirm his suspicions that something was heavily burdening her and that she was just trying to escape from it; Kara and Evander were so wrapped around each other that they barely cared about what happened around them; Viktor was finally dating Titania, and had little time for anyone else; the Elite continued to treat him with a respect that grew every day, and inevitably, which set him aside from them; he never saw Draco except the few times they talked about trivialities through the use of the two-way mirrors; he avoided Ron and Hermione as much as he could; and he quickly fled whenever he saw Lavander in the hallways, since the girl had taken to ambush him whenever she could, to discuss their relationship and feelings.

It all served to make him feel more isolated than ever.

The only person with whom he spent some time at school was Luna, since being with her filled him with a sort of simple peacefulness, and she never demanded anything from him, but always seemed willing to listen, if he ever wanted to discuss his troubles with her; he never did. Nonetheless, it was her quiet companionship, as they fed thestrals or sat in the library to do their homework, which filled him with some measure of contentment.

The only other person he saw as much as he could was Voldemort, though their interaction had inevitably changed. The wizard seemed as busy as himself, and whenever he portkeyed to Riddle Manor to see him, Voldemort was occupied studying the Mayan Stone, preparing some attack or other to be conducted in England by his Death Eaters, or planning the next steps the Dark Allies had to take in order to prepare for the eventual European war.

Furthermore, Orion was just as, or even more, exhausted than him, so usually, they simply shared tranquil moments of companionship, each lost in their own thoughts and plans. And sometimes, they shared moments of deep desire and fiery passion, but Orion couldn't help thinking that there was always something desperate and abruptly urgent every time they had sex; as if each thought that their time was running short.


	2. Pact with the Guild

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN:**

Thanks for all your reviews, I promise to answer them in the next chapter, because I'm too exhausted and sleepy right now to reply anything coherent. But I will in the next one - promised!

I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you review!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Happy birthday, Ron," said Orion as warmly as he could muster, when they were woken by Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas leaving noisily for breakfast.

He carefully stood up from bed, mindful of not wincing with each step he took, since his body was still recovering from the last lesson with Grindelwald, and he opened his trunk and took out his Durmstrang uniform, preparing to leave for Durmstrang for the weekend.

"Thanks, mate," said Ron, before he loudly yawned and stretched on his bed. "Though it would have been a much better birthday if they hadn't cancelled the Hogsmeade trip. I was looking forward to that!"

Orion nodded, and absently replied as he buttoned up his shirt, "Not a big surprise after what happened to Katie Bell, she's still in St. Mungo's, and the Daily Prophet has been reporting more disappearances."

The truth was that Voldemort was clearly stepping up his plans; the Death Eaters were frequently attacking some muggle town or other, keeping the Ministry busy in cleaning up after them, while other Death Eaters kidnapped targeted wizards or witches, who disappeared without a trace, including several relatives of students at Hogwarts.

But that didn't worry him much; he had enough on his plate to be concerned about how Voldemort was conducting the war, and there wasn't much of a war going on in England, yet. Only disappearances occurred, but there hadn't been any open confrontation between the two sides, and Orion knew that it was precisely what Voldemort wanted.

The wizard was busy planting Death Eaters in key Ministry positions, working on changing the current in the Ministry to one favorable for him, leaving all major attacks for the future. On the other hand, the Order of the Phoenix –according to what Severus told Voldemort – was simply working to protect key light wizards and witches. In conclusion, neither side had done anything openly offensive, yet.

Orion couldn't help thinking that they were in the calm before the storm, what muggles pegged as a 'cold war', each side readying themselves for the major confrontations, when everything would explode in a sequence of fierce battles. That would be the real war; and what mattered most to him was that he would be prepared for it, meaning that he would have already gathered the last Hallow and finished Grindelwald's lessons.

Furthermore, after the incident of the opal necklace and Katie Bell, nothing had happened in Hogwarts; which meant that Draco had heeded his advice of not doing anything foolish which could uncover what he was attempting to do. Nevertheless, that did little to assuage his concerns, since Draco refused to discuss how much he was progressing in his task.

Orion was becoming increasingly worried about the matter, not only because Draco had been given the deadline of completing his task before the school year ended, but also because he didn't know if he would be prepared to best Dumbledore in a duel, when the time came. Draco had until the end of the school year, but if the boy completed his task before then, will he have undergone enough of Grindelwald's lessons to be able to defeat Dumbledore? Even if the attack happened around the end of the school year, he wasn't sure if he would be prepared.

Moreover, Voldemort still hadn't breathed a word to him about the plan of breaching Hogwarts – which indicated that the wizard didn't know that Draco had told him about it- but it also meant that Voldemort had no plans of including him in the attack. And he had taken an Unbreakable Vow, promising to help Draco and kill Dumbledore if Draco wasn't able to –which he had to do regardless, because he needed to become the Elder Wand's master- but it meant that everyone involved in the attack would see him participating in it and helping Draco.

He couldn't help wondering how angry Voldemort would become when he was told that Dumbledore hadn't been killed by Draco, as ordered, but by him… What would Voldemort do to Draco? And more importantly, would the wizard already know how the Elder Wand worked, and thus, know that if he had killed Dumbledore it meant that Voldemort now had to defeat him in order to take the wand from him?

Orion inwardly shook his head. Voldemort would be furious, there was no doubt about it, but he would deal with it and protect Draco from Voldemort's 'punishment' when the time came. What concerned him more was that Draco finished the task of repairing the vanishing cabinet and that, by then, he would have learned enough in Grindelwald's lessons to be able to defeat and kill Dumbledore.

"But now all I've got to look forward to is stupid Apparition!" said Ron grumpily. "Big birthday treat..."

Orion was jerked out of his thoughts, and he nodded. Three lessons on, Apparition was proving as difficult as ever for the rest of the school, though a few more people had managed to splinch themselves. Frustration was running high and there was a certain amount of ill-feeling towards Wilkie Twycross and his three Ds, which had inspired a number of nicknames for him.

Due to his classes at Durmstrang during the weekends, he had missed most lessons, but that mattered little to him since he had learned to apparate, out of need, some while ago, when he had wanted to access Slytherin's chambers quickly and surreptitiously. Nevertheless, it was an inconvenience that he wasn't old enough to take the test in Apparation required by the Ministry, since without the license, he had to be mindful of apparating from where it couldn't be detected, and that was always a bother. Regardless, he had become accustomed to using Black Manor as a triangulation point, so he knew that neither the Danish nor English Ministry was aware of his moves.

"Oh, they're already here!" said Ron with a broad smile, jumping straight out of bed and excitedly reaching a small pile of presents, just as Orion finished dressing.

Orion grabbed a package from his trunk and he threw it across on to the small pile on Ron's bed.

"Have a present."

"Cheers!" said Ron, ripping off the paper from the package.

Orion nodded and started to prepare his bag with everything he would need for Durmstrang, his thoughts now becoming tinged with excitement, since tomorrow was the day that Loki would take him to the Necromancers Guild. He was curious to discover what they wanted, but most of all, he was eager to advance in his plan of resurrecting his father.

Given everything he had learned, and was learning, in Necromancy class and what he was learning from Cadmus' journal, he knew that the only way he could ever manage to defeat Cadmus was with the use of the Resurrection Stone –freed from Voldemort's piece of soul- and with the use of a Necromancer's Gate. His main objective for the visit to the Guild was to obtain the Guild's permission to use one of their Gates.

"Nice one, Orion!" said Ron enthusiastically, waving the new pair of Quidditch Keeper's gloves Orion had bought for him by owl-post.

"No problem," said Orion absent-mindedly, as he continued filling his backpack, his mind focused with his plans for the visit to the Guild.

Ron did not answer; he was too busy unwrapping presents, every now and then letting out an exclamation of pleasure.

"Seriously good haul this year!" he announced, holding up a heavy gold watch with odd symbols around the edge and tiny moving stars instead of hands. "See what Mum and Dad got me? Blimey, I think I'll come of age next year too..."

"Cool," muttered Orion uninterestedly.

"Want one?" said Ron thickly, holding out a box of Chocolate Cauldrons.

"No thanks," replied Orion, side-glancing at him.

"You should stay here today, it's my birthday, surely you can skip one day of class," said Ron, stuffing a second Cauldron into his mouth as he started to get dressed.

"Can't do, sorry," said Orion, briefly glancing at him, before he decided to yield a bit to show himself more friendly. "I'll walk with you to the Great Hall, if you want, before I leave for Durmstrang."

"Alright, let's hurry, I'm famished," said Ron, before he looked thoughtfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugged and helped himself to a third.

Orion finished packing his things and he slowly slung his backpack over one shoulder, mindful of the large, aching bruise he had there.

"Ready?" he said to Ron, a bit impatiently.

He was halfway to the dormitory door when he realized that Ron had not moved, but was leaning on his bedpost, staring out of the rain-washed window with a strangely unfocused look on his face.

"Ron? Great Hall. Your breakfast awaits."

"I'm not hungry."

Orion stared at him. "I thought you just said -?"

"Well, all right, I'll go," sighed Ron, "but I don't want to eat."

Orion scrutinized him suspiciously. "You've just eaten half a box of Chocolate Cauldrons, haven't you?"

"It's not that," Ron sighed again. "You... you wouldn't understand."

"Fair enough," said Orion with an uninterested shrug of his shoulders, as he turned to open the door, impatient to leave for Durmstrang to attend the Dark Arts lesson of the day.

"Orion!" said Ron suddenly.

"What?"

"Orion, I can't stand it!"

"You can't stand what?" asked Orion, now starting to feel definitely short-tempered, his accumulated tiredness, and his impatience to be in Durmstrang, not helping.

"I can't stop thinking about her!" said Ron hoarsely.

Orion gaped at him. He had not expected this, didn't want to hear it, and didn't have the time for it.

If Ron had finally realized what everyone already knew –that he liked Hermione- he would definitely tell him to go to someone else with his proclamations; his cover as a friendly Gryffindor be damned. Honestly, he couldn't care less; he had much more important stuff to occupy his time with.

"Well, then tell her," said Orion shortly. "Now, let's go. My class is about to start."

"I don't think she knows I exist," said Ron with a desperate gesture.

"She definitely knows you exist," snapped Orion with exasperation. "You keep bickering with each other, driving everyone insane with it."

Ron blinked. "Who are you talking about?"

"Who are you talking about?" said Orion, frowning at Ron when he saw that he was rather pale and had a dazed look in his eyes.

"Romilda Vane," said Ron softly, and his whole face seemed to illuminate as he said it, as though hit by a ray of purest sunlight.

They stared at each other for almost a whole minute, before Orion said disconcerted, "Romilda? This is a joke, right? You're joking."

"I think ... Orion, I think I love her," said Ron in a strangled voice. "Have you seen her hair, it's all black and shiny and silky... and her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her –"

"I don't have time for this," Orion snapped impatiently, "I have to get to class. Besides, do you actually remember the way she looks? Shiny and silky hair? Come on!"

He scoffed, and swiftly started to leave, in no mood to dally there longer.

He had got two steps towards the door when, abruptly, a crashing blow hit him on the right ear. Staggering, he looked around. Ron's fist was drawn right back, his face was contorted with rage; he was about to strike again.

Orion reacted without a thought; he flicked his wrist and his wand came shooting from its holster into his hand, and the incantation sprang to mind without conscious thought: Mordenta!

Ron yelled as his heel was wrenched upwards by a vine that had sprung into existence, winding around the boy, holding him upside-down, as it took roots on the ceiling; its sharp thorns biting into the boy's flesh as it wrapped tighter around him, starting to strangle him.

"Shit!" muttered Orion under his breath, as he realized that he had just used one of the nonverbal dark spells Rosier had been teaching Calypso and him during Dark Arts lessons.

Quickly, he flicked his wand, and the vine retracted its piercing thorns and relaxed its hold on Ron. But he didn't vanish the vine, since he didn't fancy getting punched again. His ear was still smarting from the hit, and it only added to the other aches spread throughout his body, which he had Grindelwald to thank for.

He glared at Ron, who dangled helplessly, upside-down, his robes hanging off him, and snapped angrily, "You idiot, what was that for?!"

"You insulted her, Orion! You scoffed about her shiny and silky hair," shouted Ron, who was slowly turning purple in the face as all the blood rushed to his head.

Orion frowned as he observed Ron's glazed eyes, and his gaze instantly zeroed in on the box lying open on Ron's bed, and everything clicked.

"'Where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?" he demanded sharply.

"They were a birthday present!" shouted Ron, revolving slowly in midair as he struggled to get free from the vine. "I offered you one, didn't I?"

"You just picked them up off the floor, didn't you?"

"They'd fallen off my bed, all right? Let me go!"

"They didn't fall off your bed, you fool, don't you understand? They were mine, I chucked them under my bed. They're the Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda gave me before Christmas and Hermione told me that they're all spiked with love potion!"

But only one word of this seemed to have registered with Ron.

"Romilda?" he repeated. "Did you say Romilda? Orion, do you know her? Can you introduce me?"

Orion stared at the dangling Ron, whose face now looked tremendously hopeful, and fought a strong desire to laugh. A part of him - the part closest to his throbbing right ear - was quite keen on the idea of letting Ron down and watch him run amok until the effects of the potion wore off... But on the other hand, they were supposed to be friends, Ron had not been himself when he had attacked…

Abruptly, he shook his head, and smirked.

Who was he kidding? He wasn't Ron's friend, that was just a cover; that was he acting just like Dumbledore wanted him to, and he was tired of it. He didn't like the boy, he didn't have time to find a way to disintoxicate him –he had to get to Durmstrang- and quite frankly, he didn't give a damn about him. Furthermore, if he allowed Ron to declare his undying love for Romilda Vane, the Slytherin's would have a good laugh, and Draco certainly could do with one.

"Yeah, I know her," said Orion calmly, twirling his wand in his fingers. "I'm going to let you down now, okay?"

He flicked his wand, making the vine disappear, and sent Ron crashing back to the floor -his ear did hurt quite a lot- but Ron simply bounded to his feet again, grinning.

Orion inspected the piercing wounds the vine had inflicted on the boy, and swiftly cast a healing spell on him, before he repaired the boy's robes. At least, Ron didn't seem too aware of what had happened, so hopefully, the boy wouldn't tell anyone that he had casted a dark spell on him. And if Ron blabbed… Well, he didn't care either, let Dumbledore berate him for it, if the old wizard dared; the man knew what he was learning in Durmstrang.

"She'll be in the Great Hall," said Orion, doing his best of not sniggering as he lead the way to the door.

"Are you sure she'll be there?" asked Ron anxiously, hurrying to keep up.

Orion broadly grinned at him. "Of course, she'll be having breakfast, just like the rest of the school."

"Oh, yes," said Ron eagerly, "I'll tell her that I love her there!"

"Great idea," said Orion, shooting him a wide smile, as they entered the common room. "I'm sure your charms will do the trick and that she'll reciprocate your feelings. And girls adore public proclamations of love; the Great Hall is the best place for you to do it."

"You're right!" said Ron excitedly. "It's the perfect place!"

Lavender was waiting beside the portrait hole, a complication he had not foreseen.

"Orion, I've been waiting to catch you before you leave," she pouted. "I think we need to discuss where we want to take our relationship-"

"You're always trailing after him, leave him alone," snapped Ron impatiently. "Orion's going to introduce me to Romilda Vane."

And without another word, Ron pushed his way out of the portrait hole.

"I don't have time now, I'll see you Monday," said Orion sniggering, trying to make an apologetic face to Lavender, but it might have turned out simply viciously amused, because she looked more offended than ever as the Fat Lady swung shut behind him.

They made their way to the Great Hall, and Orion kept nodding in understanding while Ron yapped about Romilda Vane's perfect attributes.

Just when they reached the open doors of the Great Hall, hearing the buzzing of voices from inside, Orion halted and patted Ron on the back.

"Now, I have to get to Durmstrang, but you don't need me to introduce you to her. She knows who you are," said Orion, shooting him a supportive and warm smile. "Just go get her, lover boy!"

"Yeah," said Ron eagerly, sprinting into the Great Hall. "Thanks!"

"It was my pleasure," said Orion under his breath, sniggering as he turned around and speedily made his way to Dumbledore's office, in order to floo to Durmstrang.

It was a pity that he wouldn't see it, but he was certain that he would get a full account of it on Monday. And hopefully, he would have helped to inject some lightheartedness in Draco's life.

* * *

The instant he stepped out of the fireplace at the other end, he encountered Vagnarov seated behind his grand desk and Roman Komorov standing by his side, both obviously waiting for him.

Orion flicked his wand to dust off his robes from the floo powder, and he gazed back at them with an arched eyebrow.

"To what do I owe this reception committee?" he said coolly, addressing the Headmaster. "Usually, you're never here when I floo in."

"We want to discuss some matters with you," said Vagnarov calmly, though his dark eyes were scrutinizing him. "Please, have a seat."

Orion sighed and settled his schoolbag on the floor, against one of the legs of the desk, while he took a seat directly in front of them.

"Well?"

"Mr. Njord is taking you to the Necromancers Guild," said Vagnarov, "tomorrow, correct?"

"Yes," replied Orion nonchalantly. "You know this already. He gave me his father's note during one of your classes. We discussed it then."

"We did, briefly," said Vagnarov, entwining his fingers and resting his joined hands on the desk. "What do you expect to get from them?"

"You know this as well. I need one of the Gates they have, I need it to help my father," said Orion, gazing at him and seeing, for the first time, that the old wizard looked very pale and worn out.

"So you're going through with that plan?"

"Of course I am!" said Orion crisply. "I've told you already that I wouldn't give up on him. I can still save him-"

"How, by attempting to kill the Dementor?" interrupted Komorov sharply, narrowing his light blue eyes at him. "You'll only manage to get yourself Kissed!"

"That's my problem, isn't it?" retorted Orion briskly. "I'm not asking for your help."

"But you'll ask for the Guild's help," interjected Vagnarov, piercing him with his eyes. "And they won't give it lightly. Be careful of what you agree in return. Don't be fooled by the way they might seem to you."

"Point taken," said Orion coolly, though a frown had inevitably spread over his forehead. "Now, can I leave? I have class with Master Rosier and-"

"They don't want him killed," cut in Komorov, sternly gazing down at him.

"The spirits don't want Cadmus dead?" snapped Orion, glaring at him. "Well, I don't give a fizzing whizbee about what they want, do I? Why don't we get to the point of this ambush? You've said nothing to me since my confrontation with the spirits; you've treated me as you've always done during class." He glanced at Vagnarov, and added, "And I haven't seen you much outside class, since you're always absent from the Hall for dinner and lunch. But you've said nothing to me either. Why don't you just come out with it?"

A small, warm smile tugged Vagnarov's lips. "We have nothing to say to you. That decision was your own."

"But I can't count on your help anymore," said Orion, intently gazing at him. "Can I?"

"You can't," replied Komorov curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You decided to go your own way, disregarding anything the spirits had to say on the matter. Therefore, you're on your own until you decide to come back to us. The Aux will always follow Mordred and Morgana, we won't side with you unless you're with them-"

"Or until you become the Vindico," interjected Vagnarov, glancing at Orion with a small smile quirking his lips. "Don't worry about what we do, my boy, you'll have us supporting you in the end if you manage to become the VA."

"That's not your prerogative anymore, Vulcan," said Komorov sternly. "You aren't the Aux's leader any longer-"

"And you still count with my support," continued Vagnarov, his gaze never leaving Orion, as if the other wizard hadn't spoken. "I'll help you in anything I can, as I promised to you on the day of your Necromancy test."

Komorov drew up to his full height, gazing down at the old wizard, as he said sharply, "You're going against-"

"I'm going against no one," interrupted Vagnarov curtly. "I'm simply following my own wishes in this matter. My evaluation of the circumstances is different from yours, Roman, but I'm in my right to choose whom I help-"

Abruptly, the old wizard tightly clutched the edges of his desk with his hands, his knuckles turning white, as a violent coughing attack shook his body, his face dramatically paling.

Disconcerted, Orion jumped to his feet stretching out a hand towards him, but Komorov had acted faster, quickly conjuring a handkerchief and immediately handing it to Vagnorov, while he placed a strong hand on the old wizard's shoulder, steadying him in place.

Orion saw a flash of concern crossing Komorov's eyes, but it was gone as fast as it came, and to his alarm, he saw blood stains on the white handkerchief Vagnarov had used to cover his mouth, before the old wizard quickly vanished it.

Then, he saw Komorov shooting him a fulminating, dark glare, as if somehow he was to blame. He had half a mind of simply giving in to his darkest impulses and cursing his Curse and Ward Breaking professor into the next decade.

Ever since the wizard had become the leader of the Aux Atrum he had been cold and brisk with him, when before, as merely his teacher, Komorov had been friendly, even cool.

The wizard had helped him undo the non-removability spell from his Black Heir ring portkey, which had been a precautionary measure for the break in to Nurmengard - not that he had told Komorov that that was the real reason. But not even after helping him with the spell, had Komorov reverted to his friendlier attitude of the past. And this was a wizard he would have to deal with eventually, given that Komorov would remain being the leader of the Aux Atrum for the foreseeable future.

"It's nothing, nothing," said Vagnarov calmly, waving a dismissive hand as he rested his back against his ornate chair. "Just an annoying cough that comes and goes."

Orion sat back down, glancing away from him, his face turning somber and grim. He hadn't allowed himself to think about Vagnarov's declining health, but it was clear that it was much worse than he had thought; the old wizard's days were numbered. Suddenly, he felt a wave of impotent dejection swamping over him.

Vagnarov stood up, and patted Orion on the shoulder. "I was waiting for you just to tell you to be careful with the Guild. That's it, my boy, you can leave now."

"And why is he here?" muttered Orion, side-glancing at Komorov.

"He insisted to be present if we spoke," whispered Vagnarov conspiratorially, his face amused. "Don't worry about Roman, he's not as inflexible and cold as he likes to pretend. Given time, I'm sure you'll become good friends." His lips quirked upwards into a smirk, and he added almost inaudibly, "And I've heard that he's affected by you already."

Nonplussed, Orion blinked at him, before he realized that the old wizard must be referring to the time when he had touched Komorov's mark, infusing it with some of his dark magic, which had seemed to be pleasurable for the twenty-something-year-old wizard.

Vagnarov tightened his grip on Orion's shoulder, and said in a low voice, "My door is open to you if you need me. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, thank you," replied Orion warmly, though he knew he would never ask him for help, not to a wizard who was dying and couldn't be burdened with other things. Suddenly, feeling a strange urgency, he grabbed the old wizard's forearm, and said quietly, gazing up at him, "Thank you for everything you've done in the past, as well. I… I've never said it, but you've helped me a lot, and I appreciate it-"

Vagnarov smirked at him, shaking his head. "This isn't a good-bye, Orion. This old man will still linger for a few more months. No need to say your farewells to me so soon."

"Right," said Orion, wanly smiling at him. "We still have time."

Vagnarov's smirk widened and he nodded. "Off you go, Romulus won't be happy with your tardiness."

Orion quickly snatched his bag and glanced back at them; Komorov had a darkly irked and annoyed expression on his face, while Vagnarov simply looked amused about something as he side-glanced and smirked at the younger wizard.

* * *

"Finally," bit out Loki, scowling, just when Orion halted his trot in front of him. "I was about to leave. Took you long enough."

Orion simply nodded as he caught his breath. It was Sunday late in the evening, and they were standing in the path that led to Sølvanghøj, outside Durmstrang's wards. The weekend had passed in a flash for him, barely having time to attend class, study, and go to Potter Manor for Grindelwald's lesson. And he had just come from one of the DA's meetings, where he had taught them some of the useful spells Grindelwald had been teaching him, along with their usual battle simulations. He was quite exhausted, but excited, nonetheless.

"Let's go," he said, straightening up. "How are we going to-"

Impatiently, Loki grabbed his arm, without bothering to give any explanations, and Orion summarily felt a tightening squeeze of space as he was hauled along in the apparition.

Abruptly, his feet landed on a rocky terrain, and he regained his balance as Loki released him.

Glancing around, he suddenly gasped; nothing would have prepared him for the scene before him. He took every detail with wide, astounded eyes, feeling the intense magic sizzling in the air as a tingle caressing his skin, while the vibrant colors of the scene were reflected in his irises.

He didn't know if it was night or day anymore; the sky was a dark veil splattered with sparkling stars, they were so clear, that he distinguished many more stars than he had ever seen before. Yet, there was a bright orange disk on one side, the sun reflecting its luminescence across the sky, without dimming the other celestial bodies, while a silvery, smaller orb seemed to be suspended on the other side, the moonlight meshing with the sunlight, creating swirling waves of infinite, pulsating colors which streaked above him.

Orion's breath caught in his throat as he watched the vastness before him, feeling the magnificence of it, making him feel insignificant yet deeply reverential.

Under the strange, ever-shifting domed sky, they stood on a small inlet which seemed to be suspended in mid air, in the midst of an abysm formed by gigantic cascades of foam. They were surrounded by a great mass of viridian blue water, a dark turquoise ocean which stretched beyond the horizon, undulating all around them, and abruptly ending in enormous waterfalls, as if the Earth had been cracked open by a divine force and the ocean had plunged into the wedge, forming cascades which fell into an abyss with no end in sight.

Orion looked around him, breathless; there was nothing but ocean as far as the eye could see, and bellow them, nothing but emptiness as the ocean rolled into cascades and plunged into an infinite abyss. It was the strangest yet most beautiful scenery he had ever beheld.

Moreover, the atmosphere was vibrating with magic, with an intensity he had never felt before; he felt it in his skin, in his bones, in his very being. Slowly, he felt pleasantly detached and weightless, as if he was in a dream, while he felt a surge of his dark magic spreading throughout him, rising as if called, yearning to completely infuse him – it was his Necromantic powers, and never before had he been so tempted to allow them to utterly wrap him in its nestling mantle. Yet, he restrained himself, as much as he could...

He gasped and closed his eyes, breathing slowly, enraptured by everything he was sensing in and around him.

"You feel it, don't you?"

Orion dazedly opened his eyes, and even if Loki's face was shrouded in the shadows casted by his hood, he could see the smirk on his face, and he could see the boy's eyes, which were, suddenly, all-black pools.

"Let go," said Loki. "Let it fill you. Don't fight it."

Orion shook his head, before he glanced around, and said in a voice hitched with awe, "Where are we?"

"In the only place on Earth where all the planes converge in one point," replied Loki calmly. "This is where they all merge together. That's why it's saturated with magic, that's why your Necromantic powers feel it and want to take hold of you. This is where every realm comes together. We called it the Cross of Planes." He smirked, and added in a low voice, "This is what muggles call the center of the Bermuda Triangle. For them, it's nothing more than a strange zone where inexplicable things happen; where their ships and airplanes are lost and never come back."

"I've heard of that," said Orion, his eyes wide. "What really happens to those who venture here?"

Loki waved a hand dismissively. "They never reach the center, they never reach this far, there are powerful wards protecting this area; no muggle or non-Necromancer has ever seen this place. Regardless, the power of the Cross of Planes spreads throughout several miles, anyone who enters the zone disappears into one plane or the other, and inevitably, since they aren't Necromancers and don't know how it works, they get crushed when they're flung into another plane."

"Crushed?"

"Destroyed. Killed," snapped Loki impatiently.

Orion's eyes widened further. "You speak of several planes, you spoke of realms. Are you telling me that-"

"I'm telling you that there's much more to Necromancy than Vagnarov has ever told us," interrupted Loki sharply. "I'm telling you that there isn't only this mortal plane and the spiritual one. You suspected this already, you kept asking Vagnarov about it during class, don't feign surprise. Nevertheless, I can't tell you more; you aren't a Necromancer, yet."

"Are you?" demanded Orion, narrowing his eyes at him. "How is it that you know so much?"

Loki widely smirked at him. "As part of my training, I've had access to many of the Guild's ancient books. And my trials are coming up soon. When I pass them, I'll finally become one of them."

"But you just began their training a few months ago!" said Orion, gaping at him. "Vagnarov said it took more than two years, at least. How can you already be prepared to take the trials to become a full-fledged Necromancer-"

"Silence!" snapped Loki, craning his head around to look at the empty space in front of them, his eyes unfocused. He glanced back to Orion, and said sharply, "Save your questions for later. They're expecting us. Let's go."

Orion stood rooted in his place, uncertain of what he was expected to do, but Loki had already moved. The boy took something out of his robes' pocket –a ring with a crest, Orion saw- and he knelt on the rocky ground, just besides the edge of the small inlet they were in.

Loki pressed his palms together, his hands joined as if in prayer, though they were pointing downwards, and his gaze shot towards the skies, as he said in a low, zealous voice, "Homage to thee, let me arrive in the Land of Eternity, let me enter into the Land of Everlastingness. Thy beauties are before mine eyes, thy radiance is upon my body. Thou stridest over the heavens in peace, and all thy foes are cast down; the stars which never rest sing hymns of praise unto thee, and the stars which are imperishable glorify thee as thou sinkest to rest in the horizon. To thee I pledge my soul to discover the mysteries of the afterlife."

The reverently whispered words echoed in Orion's head, and he made himself memorize them, inwardly repeating them over and over again, to etch them in his mind, understanding, instantly, that they were part of the right of passage into the Guild.

And he knew immediately that the litany wasn't a prayer to a god, but to Magic itself, since that was what wizards believed in. Moreover, it wasn't to Magic in the whole, but to the force of Magic related to Death, a most peculiar concept about which Power really ordained wizarding kind's lives; a Necromancer's concept.

His gaze never left Loki as the boy pressed the ring unto the ground, and he inched closer to him, suddenly seeing a mark into which the ring had been imbedded. The symbol was quite simple; a triangle with the shape of an eye inscribed in it, an all-black eye.

Orion blinked. "That- that symbol is just like what muggles use to-"

"To symbolize their God?" said Loki, still kneeling as he turned his face to look at him, smirking. "Yeah, well, they must have encountered it in some book or parchment written by a wizard, and given it their own interpretation. Though their symbol is different, isn't it? Their eye is a normal one, it's a clear eye. Ours is all black, a Necromancer's eye." He chuckled dryly. "Quite a symbolism there; a clear, 'light' eye representing God, versus a black, 'dark' eye representing a Necromancer, representing the power of Death. This is the mark of a full-fledged Necromancer; you get it when you pass the trials. Though a Necromancer can turn his mark invisible, to protect himself from others knowing what he is."

Orion nodded in understanding, his gaze never leaving the symbol etched in the ground, but, suddenly, he gasped as it triggered something in his memory.

A sheen sheet of cold sweat covered his forehead, as he clearly remembered the VA mark etched on the wall of Durmstrang. The same mark on which he used a spell to drench it with his blood, in order to have access to Durmstrang's catacombs and the Crypt lying in the end.

He had done it several times, and always, his blood pooled around the center of the mark formed by the two superscribed Hallows symbols, one turned upside down, forming the shape of an eye in their center; an eye which turned all-black with the concentration of his blood, just before the wall split to allow him entrance to Durmstrang's catacombs.

He had been a fool to have never realized it before; of course it was on purpose that the VA mark also held the symbol of a Necromancer –however modified to fit the Vindico mark. Nothing regarding the VA was a coincidence; the spirits had planned for centuries every single detail.

Immediately, he understood, as if being struck by a ray of sudden clarity, that the Vindico was meant to be a Necromancer; that's why the spirits and Grindelwald expressed support on his idea of becoming one in order to save his father. Furthermore, that's why Grindelwald insisted that he should become one in order to be powerful enough to survive the VA test. And that's why he always saw himself as a full-fledged Necromancer in his dreams; his eyes all-black, his countenance cold, as he used a strange power to manipulate the souls of his enemies in the battlefield.

Strangely enough, the idea didn't scare or disgust him any longer… It felt inevitable, as if it were the logical progression after a sequence of events all driving him one step closer to becoming the VA… But he also realized that perhaps he felt so nonchalant about it because of where he was; because of the way the magic of the place seemed to be imbuing him with the relaxedness and detachment caused by the surging of his Necromantic powers inside him.

"Observe," said Loki sharply, pulling out the ring from the ground, staring straight ahead.

Orion was jostled out of his thoughts, and before him, as if it were a mirage slowly revealing itself to him, he saw small scaffoldings suspending in midair, crossing the abyss, leading towards something which hadn't been there previously.

They led to what seemed like a gigantic mountain turned upside down, with its crest going down into the abyss, with the splattering waterfalls at all sides. But the abyss wasn't empty anymore; there was a dense mass of smoldering lava filling it, surrounding the inverted mountain, casting swirls of smoke into the skies.

Orion inspected the sight with wide eyes. It defied all logic and law of nature; the blackened, rocky 'mountain' seemed to simply float amidst all the lava, surrounded by the masses of undulating ocean, while there were some scarce bushes and squalid trees rooted to its ground, having grown downwards, instead of upwards. The 'mountain' was the Guild, there was no doubt about it, and it seemed to have seven levels, each with a smaller circumference than the previous one, since the last level was the crest of the mountain, which sank into the lava-filled abyss.

"You won't be able to cross unless you're filled with your Necromatic powers," said Loki impatiently, scowling at him. "Do it and let's go."

Orion wrenched his gaze from the Guild, and briefly closed his eyes, swiftly calling forth his Necromantic powers, which easily rose and filled him, spurred further by the magic in the ambient in which he found himself.

He opened all-black glowing eyes, and instantly, he felt contently detached and aloof, though also buzzing with a potency of power he hadn't felt in a long time, since he rarely allowed his Necromantic powers to utterly take hold of him, always wary of what it might do to him. But now, he felt no concerns about it; he felt completely at ease, as if that was his true natural state of being.

"Good," said Loki briskly. "Now, follow me."

Swiftly, the boy turned around and took a step onto the first scaffolding, his long, black cloak flapping in the wind, and Orion followed immediately, feeling as if he was in a sort of peaceful trance.

With the liquid lava burbling under them, the grand, oceanic cascades surrounding them, and with a sky mottled with stars, the sun, the moon, and an aurora of striking colors, they reached the 'mountain' after stepping onto every scaffold widely spread and suspended in mid air.

Loki sunk his ring into a Necromancer's mark etched in the face of the inverted mountain they were standing before, and swiftly, a tunnel-like passage opened in front of them.

* * *

Orion followed the boy inside, his eyes observing everything as they entered deeper into the first and widest level of the Guild. The walls were made of rock and earth, and they were dimly illuminated with scarce torches here and there, while some drops of water rose from the floor and splat unto the ceiling, which made him observe them with fascinated curiosity.

The silence felt heavy and ominous, but Orion could hear eerie whispers breaking it, as if they were coming from far away. And his skin tingled as it was raised with goosebumps, feeling the same way he had felt around the Veil in the Department of Mysteries; entranced and transfixed by what waited in the beyond, his Necromantic and dark magic swirling animatedly inside him, imbuing and fueling him with power and a strange sense of belonging.

In the distance, he heard faint wails, whispers and howls, but they weren't human, they weren't of mortal beings; he knew that without a thought, for Loki had said that this was the center of the Cross of Planes. He still didn't know exactly what that meant, but he had a fair idea, given his long-held suspicions and theories.

Furthermore, from the periphery of his vision, he had seen strange shadows and whitish forms lurking around, never coming out in the open, yet trailing after them, unseen. And now that he was encompassed with his Necromantic powers, he could feel it too; he could feel the presence of things better left undisturbed, pressing on him.

They finally seemed to reach the center of the first level, and Loki once again pressed his ring into a Necromancer's mark etched on a rocky door. The door swiftly crackled and flung open, and Orion followed him inside, feeling detached and calm, though forcing himself to be alert and ready for anything.

And there, in the middle of the vast, circular chamber, he was confronted by a group of individuals who looked like grim specters. They were all covered from head to toes with black cloaks, their hoods shrouding their faces with shadows, only their glowing all-black eyes visible from within the darkness.

There was something eerie emanating from them, but he also felt a sort of strange belonging towards them, as if there were invisible ties linking them together.

Three of them took a step forward, and he could tell that one was a woman by the way the black cloak molded around a curvy figure. Without a doubt, they were the leaders of the Necromancers Guild, the three reigning Necro Masters.

Loki pressed his palms together, his hands pointing downwards, as he had done before, and reverentially bowed to them, as he said quietly, "I've brought Orion Black to you, as requested, Necro Master Njord."

Orion arched an eyebrow, glancing at him. If that was the way the boy addressed his father, it was clear that the Guild was run by a strict hierarchy. He had to be mindful of that, and deal with them carefully; after all, he needed them.

The central figure nodded and made the same salute with his hands as Loki had used, before he said in a raspy voice, hoarse due to lack of use, "Good, you can leave us now. Wait outside for Mr. Black, you'll need to take him back after our meeting is over."

"Yes, Necro Master," said Loki, respectfully bowing to them, before he briefly shot Orion an undecipherable glance and swiftly left the room.

Orion stood still and alert, gazing at them with all-black glowing eyes, expectantly; he wasn't going to be the one to break the silence, nor their mutual scrutiny of each other.

"Welcome to the Guild, Mr. Black," rasped out Necro Master Njord, his all-black eyes the only visible feature eerily glinting from within the darkness of his hood. He nodded towards his two equals in rank, and added quietly, "This is Necro Master Vresi and Necro Master Kreguil."

Orion nodded at them in greeting, noticing that they didn't make distinctions between gender, since the female Necromancer, Vresi, had been introduced as Necro Master – not Mistress.

It was quite telling about the way they regarded each other; not as men and women, but as individuals who were above considerations such as gender in their interaction, as if the lack of human contact had made that notion superfluous.

Though, he knew that Njord, at least, hadn't always been this way, given that Loki was his son. It was clear that the man had produced a son before undergoing the trials to become a Necromancer, and he had to be powerful if he had risen so quickly in the Guild's hierarchy, becoming a Necro Master in little more than a decade and a half.

"I trust you've found the Guild interesting, so far."

"I have," said Orion succinctly, intently observing him.

He caught sight of the Necro Master's left palm, seeing that there was a Necromancer's mark etched in the skin, as if done with black ink. And he realized that they must use their marks to enter the Guild and access its rooms, while Loki, not being a Necromancer yet, had to use a ring instead.

"You must be wondering why we wanted to see you," rasped out Necro Master Njord.

Orion smirked at him, purposely acting as if he held all the cards. "I have a fair idea why."

"Do enlighten us, then," said Necro Master Vresi, in a scraping sound which no longer held any trace of a woman's voice.

"Loki told you about the Necromancy test I underwent in Durmstrang," said Orion calmly, piercing his all-black glowing eyes into hers. "Our Headmaster Vagnarov modified some wards to allow Loki to tell you about it, since there are some wards in Durmstrang which prevent the students from disclosing certain information about me. It was done for my protection, because I'm… because Vagnarov felt it would be useful." He gazed back at Njord, and added quietly, "You know that during the test a Dementor appeared before me, when only a deceased relative was supposed to be summoned by me."

"Indeed," said Necro Master Njord, only a slight flexing of his hand revealing a hint of interest. "And do you know who the Dementor is?"

Orion pierced him with his eyes, scrutinizing him. "It's obvious to me that you already know. He was the first Necromancer to become a Dementor – he's the original Dementor."

"He's also the leader of the Dementors, Mr. Black," said Necro Master Njord, taking a silent step forward to be a little closer to him, his hoarse voice laced with a bare hint of excitement. "He's your ancestor. Do you know who he was before he became a Dementor?"

"I do," said Orion quietly, closely observing all of them. "And so do you, it seems. He was Cadmus Peverell."

A riffle of agitation rippled through the group of Necromancers, and Njord rasped out, "And do you know what he created? Do you have it with you?"

Orion narrowed his eyes at him, and said crisply, "Is the Resurrection Stone what you want?"

"Are you willing to hand it over to us in exchange?" countered Necro Master Vresi.

"No," said Orion bluntly, gazing at them with a hard glint in his eyes. "Never. The Stone is mine, rightfully so, given that I'm his last living descendant."

"But you want to save your father's soul, don't you?" interjected Njord, his all-black eyes piercing him. "We were told about that, as well."

"Yes, and I will need the Stone for it."

"You'll also need one of our Gates, Mr. Black," pointed out Necro Master Kreguil, speaking for the first time, his voice not as hoarse as the others. "All Necromancer's Gates are in our power, now."

Orion narrowed his eyes at him. "Indirectly, thanks to me, because I found one in the English Ministry of Magic, and Loki told you about it. And given that, you stole it back from them."

"Yes," said Necro Master Kreguil, with a hint of relish in his voice, "that we did." He bore his glowing all-black eyes into Orion's, and added unemotionally, "We are willing to allow you to use one of our Gates for your attempt to kill the High Dementor to rescue your father's soul, but you won't need the Resurrection Stone after that. It would be a fair trade if you would give it to us in return for our favor."

Orion snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do I look dumb to you? A fair exchange would be the Stone for one of your Gates, and even that isn't fair enough, since the Resurrection Stone is unique; there's only one of it, while Gates, there are several." He quirked a mocking eyebrow. "Tell me, would you give me a Gate in return?"

"No," said Necro Master Njord, his raspy voice curt.

"Precisely," snapped Orion, narrowing his eyes at him. "And I don't want one either. I only need to use a Gate once, nothing more. In your note, you said we would discuss matters of mutual benefit, it hasn't been the case so far; it's been nothing but a waste of my time if surrendering the Stone to you is your condition."

"There's only one other thing we would accept in exchange," said Njord, piercing him with his glowing eyes. "Only one other thing which interests us more – you."

"Me?" said Orion, blinking at him.

"Become one of us," said Necro Master Kreguil, "and you'll be able to use all the resources the Guild has to offer to its members."

Orion frowned at him. "What would that imply?"

"Undergoing the training here, in the Guild," replied Kreguil. "And passing the trials, after which, you would be a full-fledged Necromancer, part of the Guild."

"Why do you want me to become a Necromancer?" demanded Orion, intently scrutinizing them.

"Because there are very few of us," said Necro Master Njord, his raspy voice deadpan. "With each passing generation, the bloodlines with some Necromantic powers produce less and less children in whom the trait is strong enough to surface." He pierced him with his eyes, and added, "We want you to become a Necromancer because you carry the High One's blood in you; you're the only one who has a Dementor in his lineage."

"You are aware that I mean to kill him, aren't you?" interjected Orion sternly. "That's the only way in which I can rescue my father's soul, and thus, resurrect him."

"We know that," said Njord. "And if you agree to our new terms, we will teach you how to communicate with Him, but we won't help you in your attempt to kill Him. You'll have to do that before you're one of us, we don't want the Guild to be involved in the matter of killing a Dementor, if indeed, you succeed, and I must tell you that your chances are slight, at best, if not non-existent."

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he took a step forward, getting closer to him. "What do you mean – communicate with him? Dementors don't speak, they don't-"

"They don't speak," interrupted Njord dispassionately, "but we do communicate with them." He pierced him with his eyes. "We are the only ones who can, and that's the service we provide, the only one we do to the outer world. That's where we get our financial resources from. How did you believe that the negotiations between the Dementors and some Ministries have been conducted?"

"You mean," said Orion, staring at him with marginally widening eyes, "that some Ministries, like the English, paid you to negotiate with the Dementors about their task of guarding a wizarding prison, like Azkaban? The Guild did that all those decades ago?"

"We did. And we are paid handsomely for a service only we have the ability to provide," replied Njord. "The Dementors depend on us to find them ways of satisfying their hunger beyond the souls they consume during the Ultimate Transcendences. We're their representatives in the mortal plane, if you will."

"But you've been helping Light Ministries, and you're dark wizards!" snapped Orion heatedly. Suddenly, he gazed at him with wide eyes, startled by a realization. "But no, not only them… Voldemort too! He hasn't any Necromantic abilities to speak of, yet he managed to enlist the Dementors to his side, giving them in return people to attack to feed from their souls!"

"Yes," said Necro Master Njord impassively. "We also provided our services to the Dark Lord."

Orion gritted his teeth together. "And the bastard never breathed a word about it to me!"

"He couldn't have," interjected Njord, piercing him with his eyes, "nor can the high Ministry officials to whom we provided our services. They're all made to undergo Unbreakable Vows to never reveal our existence to anyone. We value the secrecy of our existence. Very few, who aren't Necromancers, know about the Guild, and those who do, can never tell."

"Ah, alright," said Orion, assuaged, before he narrowed his eyes at them, angry. "So you've been assisting both sides. Why? You're dark wizards for Merlin's sake-"

"We're Necromancers," interrupted Kreguil, his detached voice carrying a hint of sharpness. "We do not care about the outer world, we don't have political views, we remain neutral and uninvolved –always."

"What do you care about, then?" snapped Orion, not understanding how it couldn't matter to them if the wizarding world was ravaged by wars, or if the Dark was defeated by the Light.

"Our aim is the study of the afterlife," replied Necro Master Njord serenely. "We dedicate our life to unravel the mysteries of how the planes work, of what happens in each one, of why they're produced, of how they interact. We care about the study of the soul, the way rebirth is determined, the soul's progress through all the stages until the Ultimate Transcendence. We care about the Balance between the planes-"

"Yes, that's all very interesting," interrupted Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes at him, "but you also care about there being more Necromancers after you. And you've admitted that few are being born with the ability, and you surely know that it's because the dark bloodlines are weakening! So how can you not care about what's going on right now between the Light and the Dark? You certainly realize that if the Dark is defeated, the number of Necromancers to be born in the future will decrease, since the Dark is the only side who cares about strengthening the bloodlines! If the Light won, the bloodlines would keep getting more muddled and weaker!"

"We are aware of that," said Njord impassively, "but we leave those matters to those who have the desire to get involved in the struggle for power." He pierced him with intent, glowing eyes, and added, "We are specialized in our own interests, as you are in yours. We could participate in the confrontation, but we're not warriors, we're scholars. If one of our Necromancers desired to use his abilities to help the Dark in the battlefield, we would allow it, but none of us do, and you can't understand why because you have no idea of how consuming and vastly gratifying our work here is. You can't grasp the vastness and profundity of knowledge each one of us acquires here. You're concerned about the struggles in the mortal plane, we aren't because we know that it's insignificant in the greater scope of existence."

"But you're affected by your diminishing numbers," insisted Orion gruffly, still not understanding their detached perspective of things.

"We are," said Njord calmly, "but we know that there're others trying to solve the problem. It would be disagreeable for us, but we would intervene, only if we saw that there was no one else doing it. But that isn't the case at present." His glowing eyes bore intently into his. "Currently, there's the Dark Lord, and also you, according to our information."

Orion deeply frowned at him. "But you want me to become one of you. I wouldn't be able to help the Dark if I was part of the Guild."

"As I said," retorted Njord, "our Necromancers are free to do what they want if they don't break our rules; if they don't reveal our existence or disrupt the Balance between the planes. After becoming one of us, if what we do here doesn't interest you enough to remain with us, then you'd be free to leave, and you could return to us later, if desired."

"There's something you're not telling me," said Orion, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes. "I find your flexibility hard to believe. There's something else you want from me."

"The Resurrection Stone-"

"No," interrupted Orion sharply, "that's not it, because I already told you that I won't give it to you, and you easily offered to me the only other possibility in exchange for the use of a Gate; for me to become a full-fledged Necromancer. So why would you want that, if you know that I'm currently helping the Dark, and if that also works in your benefit?" He deeply frowned at them, his mind speeding. "You say you don't care about the tribulations of the mortal plane, yet you need to be rooted in this plane, or you would lose yourselves in the other planes during your explorations. And you need the dark bloodlines to produce more Necromancers, or your breed would die out, and all your accumulated knowledge would be useless if there weren't any more Necromancers to use it and expand it. You don't consider yourselves merely humans, but despite your best efforts, you have human needs. For instance, you have financial needs to keep this place running. It's impossible to permanently conjure or transform things, so you need to have capital to buy whatever you need; food, clothes, supplies for the summoning rituals… No, not even you are impervious to those considerations. And you need to remain unknown…"

He stepped closer to Njord, his face now inches away from the hooded one, and he breathed out, "That's what you want, isn't it? Someone who'll make sure that the plane in which you are inevitably rooted to doesn't come crushing down on your shoulders. Someone who will facilitate your existence by providing all the things you need to remain here isolated in your studies, without worrying what's going on out there. You want me to be one of you because you know that my main objective is to help the Dark, and if I'm part of the Guild, I'll want to protect it as well. You're counting on me to be your Necromancer out in the real world, making sure that no one finds out about the Guild, that you have financial means at your disposal, and that certain bloodlines are kept pure enough to yield more Necromancers. In short, you want me to preserve your way of life, because all of you are too enraptured by the other planes to bother doing it."

"That is, of course," said Necro Master Njord impassively, "what we would expect of you if you became one of us and then decided to leave the Guild."

Orion narrowed his eyes at him; that had been too simple, Njord's reply too casual.

"And how do you know that I wouldn't simply remain here with you, also more interested about the other planes than about the mortal one?"

"That would be your decision," said Necro Master Njord calmly. "I have no way of foreseeing what you would do, though I assure you that you would probably desire to remain here."

"Then, who would secure all those other things you want?"

"The Guild has always found a way to preserve itself," replied Necro Master Njord dismissively. "We don't need one of us in the outer world for it, but you'll be welcomed to do it if you chose so."

Orion sighed with exasperation, raking his fingers through his hair. There was something he wasn't seeing. It was clear to him, that if he became one of them, the Guild would allow him to go back to the real world, since it would benefit them as well. So they also had to gain something from him if he remained in the Guild. The Necro Masters were covering all their bases, depending on what he would decide to do; they expected to benefit no matter what his choice, of either staying or leaving, would be.

Then, suddenly, it hit him; that which distinguished him from them.

"This is about Cadmus," he snapped crisply, narrowing his eyes at the Necro Master. "You said you would teach me how to communicate with a Dementor, and that I would have to confront him before I became one of you, because you don't want the Guild to be involved in an attack against a Dementor, against their leader, no less! And that's because you've been helping the Dementors, and because they make sure that the Balance between the planes isn't disrupted, something you also want to preserve. So, no matter what I decide on doing after becoming one of you, you know that I will try to kill Cadmus beforehand. Yet, want it or not, the Guild will be involved in my attempt because you will be lending me one of your Gates. Cadmus will be aware of this the instant I use the Gate, and so will be the other Dementors when they perceive that their leader has been destroyed. But you're willing to let that happen, why? Why aren't you concerned about the Dementors' response?"

He paused, his thoughts rushing, before his eyes marginally widened, and he breathed out, "What are you planning – to oust them?! Have you become powerful and ambitious enough to want them gone, with only you to control the Balance? With only the Guild guarding the interaction between the planes? Is that truly possible?!"

A flicker of disturbance and agitation rushed through the congregated Necromancers, and Orion gazed at all of them with wide, unfocused eyes, his mind spinning with implications and wild theories, not quite able to keep up with his rampaging thoughts.

"Are you truly powerful enough?" he choked out, flabbergasted, perplexed. "Have you truly already accumulated all the knowledge necessary to understand the workings of the planes well enough to become their arbiters?" His gaze zeroed in on Njord, and he jerkily carded his fingers through his hair, as he said with a hitched voice, "This is all about a struggle for power. There's always a struggle for power, and there's no exception in your case… but – but what will you become?" He frantically shook his head. "Surely you don't want to become Dementor-like creatures only to have control over the planes! Surely you wouldn't-"

"We would remain as we are," said Necro Master Vresi, her raspy voice eerily calm and omniscient, as if she held the answers for all the mysteries of the universe.

Orion gaped at her, all measure of composure slipping away, as he tried to wrap his mind around what the Guild was planning on doing. "But for Merlin's sake, why do you want to do it?! Why do you want to get rid of them? For power? Don't get me wrong, I despise Dementors, but-"

"Tell us, then, why you despise them," interjected Necro Master Kreguil coolly.

Orion blinked at him, before he immediately replied, his voice hard, "Because no matter their role in the Ultimate Transcendence and how they guard the Balance, I don't think they have the right to consume souls in this plane. Because they shouldn't be allowed to Kiss wizards before they are dead, thus eventually consuming those souls until obliterating them. Because no soul should be destroyed, they should be allowed to go through the natural process in the spiritual plane, eventually going back to the Sources of Magic."

"Precisely," said Necro Master Njord, his glowing all-black eyes glinting with satisfaction, as his gaze measured up Orion with a hint of new-found respect and appraisal. "Dementors should have never existed; they are an aberration, a plague in this plane, derived from Necromancers who weren't strong enough to withstand the temptation that comes with our powers."

"Yes, yes," said Orion, jerkily nodding his head, "but they serve a purpose, they assist the force of Death when souls must be taken to the spiritual plane. They are the ones who, during the Ultimate Transcendence, consume souls in the spiritual plane, when the souls have gone through all their rebirths, to make them go into the Sources. Without Dementors, who would do all that?!"

"All that was done before Dementors came into existence," said Necro Master Njord calmly. "We merely want to fix it back to the way it was before Magic had to readjust the planes in order to fit a new type of being."

Orion fiercely rubbed his forehead, his mind spinning as he remembered what Morgana and Modred had casually mentioned once.

"But there were other beings who did that before the Dementors, and they were casted into another plane when Dementors appeared, as a way of fitting the Dementors to the new scheme of things." He looked up at Njord, adding, "Shadows, they were called."

The Necromancers before him stirred, and Necro Master Vresi said briskly, "And how do you know that?"

"That doesn't matter," said Orion, waving his hand dismissively, before he pierced them with his eyes, his voice turning sharp. "What I want to know is what you're planning on doing if you're successful. Who will take up the Dementors' duties? How will it work?"

"We still have to plan it further," replied Necro Master Kreguil, "but we're close to reaching a solution for that. Nevertheless, Magic always adjusts the planes and its own workings whenever a disruption occurs, and so will happen when Dementors cease to exist. We simply want to aid that transition."

"Magic," said Orion, frowning deeply. "To which Source are you referring? Which controls all this?"

"Which Source do you think controls the workings of Death?" said Necro Master Njord impassively.

"The Dark Source, obviously," said Orion, his frown getting deeper and deeper with each passing second. "But what about the rebirths? What about the creation and adjustment of planes?"

"It depends on the nature of the plane," replied Necro Master Vresi, her coarse voice curt but still aloof. "It depends on the soul to be reborn. There's no simple answer to your questions, the matter is very complex; it has taken the Guild centuries to unravel it. Furthermore, we've told you much more than we had intended to; only a member of the Guild has the right to learn this from us. You'll understand if we demand a Vow from you to never say anything of what you've learned here, to anyone."

Orion nodded in acceptance; he perfectly understood it, and he had no intentions of telling anyone, anyway.

Moreover, he knew that he could find a way to be free from the Vow; he knew this with the same certainty he knew that Voldemort could have broken the Vow he had made to the Guild after accepting their services, if the wizard had gained anything by doing so. If Voldemort was powerful enough to break whatever magical vows he wanted, as the wizard had proved countless times, then he was certainly also able to do it, if he ever needed to study the matter to find a way.

What mattered to him was that the problem between the Sources was much more complicated than blood, and he understood why the spirits and Grindelwald wanted him to become a Necromancer. Only a Necromancer could learn what each Source was responsible for, in the matter of the planes, and that was something to which he had to give serious consideration before attempting to meddle with the balance between the Sources.

Yet, both the spirits and Grindelwald believed that the best alternative was for the Dark Source to be the only remaining one; that was better than leaving the Light Source or the Neutral Magic as the dominant one. Not to mention the possible annihilation of the Sources if there was no buffering Neutral Magic to keep them apart in the short-run, or the extinction of both Sources if they kept weakening due to the muddling of the bloodlines with muggle and muggleborn blood…

But neither Grindelwald nor the spirits were Necromancers, so perhaps they didn't know everything that was in play regarding the Sources and their role in the workings of the planes and souls…

Orion fiercely rubbed his forehead. It was a mess, all of it was a convoluted mess, and he could barely think straight with all the issues which had to be considered. He felt the problem pressing in on him; knowing that he lacked the knowledge necessary to solve the matter.

No, nothing was a coincidence, not the spirits' encouragement for him to become a Necromancer, nor the way the VA symbol, in the midst of all its geometric forms, craftily hid a Necromancer's mark.

He snapped out of it - still being infused with his Necromantic powers helping him to swiftly clear his mind in a detached sort of way- and he glanced at Njord.

"Alright," he said curtly, "you want to dispose of the Dementors, and Merlin knows that I'm all up for it, but you also want to occupy the vacuum of power that they'll leave behind when they cease to exist-"

"It's not about power," interrupted Necro Master Njord, his deadpan voice holding a trace of sternness, "it's about bettering the way the planes work, about not allowing souls to be consumed before their time, as Dementors cause when they Kiss someone-"

"Yes, yes," snapped Orion, piercing him with his eyes, "that may be your main reason, but I'm not fooled about how much you'll gain if you're successful. You'll be the ones controlling the game! In the 'outer world', as you call it, wizarding kind is split into Dark and Light, each trying be the ones in control of the wizarding world, which is only a part of the mortal plane. And here you are, trying to be the ones in control of all the planes!" He frantically shook his head, agitated. "Such a coup! And the wizarding world none the wiser. I must congratulate you-"

"We don't want to do it for ourselves," said Necro Master Vresi, her glowing all-black eyes holding a bare hint of anger. "We don't yearn for power, Mr. Black, we yearn for the smooth workings of the planes and the fair management of souls. At present, the Dementors are the disruption, and they have been for far too long."

Orion studied her carefully for a long time. She was being sincere, and glancing at the others, he realized that so were they. They had said it themselves, they were scholars, yet…

"How do you know that you won't become corrupted by the power you'll wield?" he said, shaking his head. "After all, Dementors came from Necromancers! How do you know that some of you won't be too tempted, that some of you won't degenerate into something like them again?!"

"We are fully prepared to deal with those cases with a firm, unforgiving hand," replied Necro Master Kreguil calmly. "If one of us deviates, he will be swiftly killed by the rest of us."

Orion gazed at them, they were serious, they were fully committed, they had probably planned every single detail for decades. And by Merlin that he understood them; he had always wondered why nobody was doing anything about the liberty Dementors had in consuming souls from live wizards. The option they offered was at least better than the current state of things, even if something didn't work as smoothly as they thought…

"Furthermore," interjected Necro Master Njord, "our reason to offer you to become one of us, in exchange for the use of one of our Gates, is because we recognize the value you could have for us. By becoming a Necromancer, you'd be included in our plans, you'd be able to join us in what we want to do. After all, you're in the same mind as we are regarding Dementors."

Abruptly, Orion was thrown back to the point of the whole meeting, and something finally clicking in his mind.

"Yes," he said crisply, narrowing his eyes at them, "that's why you wanted the Resurrection Stone, to use it against them. But that's not all, is it? No Necromancer has ever killed a Dementor, and you know I will try it." His eyes narrowed to slits, and he snapped, "You want to see if I'm successful, since, after all, I am Cadmus' descendant, and that greatly interested you. You're offering one of your Gates because you want to see if I can use it, and the Resurrection Stone, to truly kill a Dementor. If I fail, you lose little; I'll simply be Kissed, and you can find a way of washing your hands from the affair by saying that I wasn't one of you. So perhaps the Dementors won't turn against you. And if I succeed, you will know how a Dementor can be killed, and you will use that knowledge to dispose of every one of them. In short, I'm doing all the bloody work for you! And you think this is a fair deal for me?"

"We are offering to teach you how to communicate with a Dementor," said Necro Master Njord, his raspy voice curt, "and that will be useful in your attempt. And we are offering you the use of one of our Gates, without which, you would certainly fail. All we ask in return is for you to become one of us, for you to undergo the training and the trials. Quite frankly, that interests us much more than the Resurrection Stone. The Stone is unique and it magnifies a Necromancer's power, but by uniting our powers we can do that ourselves without the need of any magical object. We're more interested in you becoming a full-fledged Necromancer, in you becoming part of the Guild; this has been what we truly wanted from the start. And this shouldn't even be considered as payment for our favor of lending you a Gate, given that, during the training, you would have access to all the knowledge the Guild has arduously accumulated for centuries."

Njord waved a hand, the first obvious sign of impatience Orion had seen from him. "We would be teaching you everything! All those questions which are bubbling in your mind, all those answers which you're evidently seeking, and which you'll find no where else but here! You should consider it an honor, and it has only been extended to you because of the Necromantic power we feel in you, which we don't want to see go to waste. We can't afford it; we're very precious few. Yes, our offer is partly because you're the High Dementor's descendant, and thus, his blood makes you powerful in Necromancy, and because you're willing to try to kill a Dementor, facilitating matters for us by allowing us to observe the attempt. We can't get involved, we can't help you, because we don't want the Dementors turning against us before we're ready; you surely understand our reason for it. Nevertheless, once you're one of us, you would count with our help in anything you need. The Guild always protects and helps its own, no matter if they stay here or not. And you would have the liberty to do whatever you wished, including helping us with our plan, seeing with your own eyes that we aren't doing it to gather power for selfish reasons, but noble ones!" He pierced Orion with his glowing, all-black eyes, and added, "We only offer our training once, to those we deem worthy, and it's time to decide, Mr. Black - Do you accept?"

Orion clenched his jaw, and said quietly, "For how long would I need to stay here? How long is the training?"

"Two years."

Orion curtly shook his head. "There's no way I can disappear from the wizarding world for two years. There will be a war going on, and I must be involved."

"Ah, I meant two years for us," said Necro Master Njord, his voice laced with a hint of smugness, "not for the outside world. Time flows differently here. We're in the center of the Cross of Planes, Mr. Black, time breaks all the laws it obeys on the outside. Here, the way time behaves depends on the level of the Guild in which you find yourself."

Orion frowned at him, realizing how Loki had been able to advance so quickly in his training, but still not understanding. "How's that possible-"

"You'll only be told when, and if, you undergo the training," interrupted Necro Master Njord.

"Then, how long does the training last, measured from the outside, if I want to do it in the least amount of time?"

"Two months for the outside world."

Orion gazed at him, his mind speeding a thousand thoughts per second, and he said curtly, "The deal is the use of the Gate and the learning of the way you communicate with Dementors in exchange for undergoing the training and the trials to become one of you?"

"Yes."

He eyed them critically, not thrilled about becoming the detached beings he saw. Surely, they held much more knowledge than he did, knowledge only available here. On the other hand, he didn't want to become what they were; aloof beings who didn't experience the warmth and pleasure of human contact, isolated from the outer world, only concerned about the other planes instead of the one they were rooted in, with no interests other than learning as much as they could about souls and planes…

His jaw tightened. At first, he had considered becoming a Necromancer as a way of controlling the inexorable pull of his dark magic, in order to remain sane, but that was when he was considering not attempting to become the VA.

He had already made his choice on that matter; he had resolutely decided to try to become the Vindico, so he didn't have to be concerned about the pull, since he intended to give into it. And if he failed he wouldn't go insane, he would simply die during the VA test. Given his resolve to become the VA, now his reasons to become a Necromancer were others, but they seemed much more pressing and important than before.

First, if he didn't agree to the deal with the Guild, they wouldn't allow him the use of a Gate. They had all of the Gates in their power, and he knew that without one he wouldn't stand a chance against Cadmus. That meant that if he didn't agree, he wouldn't be able to rescue his father's soul, and that was something he wasn't willing to forego.

At present, his father's circumstances were worse than death, since centuries from now, Cadmus would eventually consume all of his father's soul; meaning that his father's soul would never be reborn. That was something he couldn't allow; he wouldn't be able to live in peace knowing what was happening to his father's soul in the meanwhile.

He would attempt to have his father back, whatever it took; he had always known that.

Second, it was clear to him that the solution to the problem between the Sources had entered a new complicated dimension. The spirits and Grindelwald had encouraged him to become a Necromancer, and now he fully knew why.

The Vindico had to be a Necromancer, someone with the knowledge of what the Sources were responsible for, besides the whole issue of magical blood and powers.

And he had to admit to himself that he wanted to know all what the Necromancers of the Guild did. The knowledge they held was riveting, his mind couldn't help hungering for it.

It would provide him with so many answers; he would finally know if he was right in suspecting what was in those other planes besides the mortal and spiritual one, he would finally know if there was a rule regarding souls and the type of magical baby they were reborn into, he would finally know if Voldemort had reason to create horcruxes in the fear that, otherwise, his soul could have been reborn into a muggleborn or muggle, his dark magic gone.

Third, he wanted to kill the spirits. He would need to get from them information regarding the VA test and what to do with the Hallows, and he could only do that if he was a full-fledged Necromancer.

He realized that he could get the information regarding the whereabouts of the Archive, and how to access it, from Roman Komorov, since the wizard was the new leader of the Aux Atrum. Regardless, to kill the spirits he had to be a Necromancer.

Finally, he had to admit that there was a deep yearning inside him to fully master all his abilities. A desire which only grew stronger after every lesson with Grindelwald, where he was discovering how much more he could do with the power within him. It was a yearning which seared through him every time he woke up from his dreams, every single night, as he panted, feeling a wave of animated dark magic encompassing him.

It was the yearning to become all what he could be; regarding both his dark magic and his Necromantic powers. He wanted to see the extent of what he could do with them. He wanted to use them in battle. He wanted to be powerful enough to become the VA.

And as Grindelwald had warned him, if he wanted to spare Voldemort, he would need to gather power by other means, and becoming a Necromancer was a way, the only one he knew of.

But now, it went beyond sparing Voldemort; he wanted it for himself.

All his reasons were powerful ones, so much that he almost opened his mouth to agree and finally conclude the deal. But he saw them there, so detached, so dehumanized, and he snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head.

Orion glanced up at Njord, refusing to believe that there couldn't be a way around it, his mind thinking fast.

"How did you become like this?" he said, with no pretense of tactfulness; they knew perfectly well what they had given up and what they had become. "Is there some point during the training which marks a difference? Which changes you?"

Necro Master Njord pierced him with his all-black glowing eyes, and Orion could imagine a frown on his obscured face when he said, "The training involves interaction with the planes, that always starts to slowly change you-"

"I know, I meant a crucial change," insisted Orion, intently regarding him.

"I suppose you could consider the trials as the moment in which you're irrevocably changed, if you pass them."

Orion nodded pensively, before he said curtly, "Then I'll agree to your terms, if you grant me the possibility of refusing to undergo the trials."

"No, that's not possible," said Necro Master Njord, shaking his hooded head. "The trials are what finally turns you into a full-fledged Necromancer, into one of us."

"Exactly," interjected Orion, "and I don't want to commit to become one of you. I want to have the option open-"

"Then what would we be gaining with this deal?" interrupted Necro Master Vresi, her hoarse voice curt.

"I will still attempt to kill Cadmus," replied Orion sharply. "If I'm successful, I would have shown you a way of disposing of the other Dementors, not to mention that I would have already killed their leader for you. And I'm not saying that I won't consider undergoing the trials, perhaps I will. Regardless, whether I undergo the trials or not, I will still follow through all the training, because I want to strengthen my Necromantic powers, and I want to learn all I can from you. Moreover, I'll consider that I owe the Guild protection, and I'll act accordingly once I'm back in the outer world; I'll be able to supply you with all those things you need." He pierced them with his eyes, and added sternly, "Whether I undergo the trials or not, you still benefit. I also want the freedom to decide when to start the training, and I expect to have access to a Gate when I'm ready to use it to kill Cadmus. I won't budge from any of my conditions. This is a one-time offer as well, and I also want your answer now."

The Necromancers imperceptibly stirred, and Orion saw them briefly glancing into each other's eyes.

And his eyebrows shot upwards when he finally understood why their voices were raspy and hoarse due to the lack of use; they didn't speak with each other, they seemed to be communicating mind-to-mind.

Furthermore, he remembered the way Loki had snapped his head around as if listening to someone when they had been on the outside... So they didn't need eye-to-eye contact, and they could do it over distances.

It was clear that they used Legilimency and Occlumency, though not in a way he had seen before, and the unity amongst them had to be strong indeed if they could use that kind of magic so easily between them.

"Very well," said Necro Master Njord, piercing him with his glowing, all-black eyes, "but we ask that you let us study the Resurrection Stone in exchange for your new conditions. You're free to keep it, but you must allow us to study it."

"I agree if you share your research with me," interjected Orion curtly, "and if you study it when I'm here, since I'll take it with me every time I leave this place."

"Agreed," said Necro Master Njord instantly, his raspy voice sounding satisfied. "When should we expect to see you again?"

"To learn how you communicate with Dementors, and to use the Gate, in a few months," replied Orion pensively. "For the training, I'm not certain, but I'll let Loki know, so that he'll inform you in advance. I'll bring you the Stone then, when I start my training."

Necro Master Njord nodded, and he briefly glanced at Vresi, who swiftly swished one of her hands through the air, a piece of parchment instantly materializing in front of her, before she grasped it as it started to fly downwards.

The three Necro Master came together, Kreguil wandlessly conjuring a blade and slashing it across each of their fingertips, before each conjured a quill to sign their names with their own blood.

"We require that you sign this magical contract in blood," said Necro Master Vresi, approaching Orion. "It simply states all the conditions of our agreement, and we won't demand a Vow from you to keep silent about what you've learned here, since it's already included in the contract. This magical contract will be the bond between us, unbreakable, and it will only become obsolete if you decide to undergo the trials to become a full-fledged Necromancer, and thus, part of the Guild."

Orion nodded, grabbing the parchment she was offering to him, and his eyes carefully read each word. It was exactly what they had agreed on; no hidden trap, no covert manipulation or loophole, anywhere.

He had to recognize that whatever Vagnarov had said about them, they were fair and honest. Surely, they hadn't disclosed their real motives and plans in the beginning, and indeed there was much more to them than they appeared, but he appreciated the sincerity they had shown in the end, in the way they had openly discussed matters. Moreover, he could sense in them a real desire to set things right regarding the Dementors.

Nevertheless, he wasn't one to trust easily, not after the tough lessons he had learned through his experiences with the spirits and Voldemort; since however much he defended his spouse in front of Grindelwald, and however much he wanted to believe his own words, he knew that Voldemort would always keep him on his toes.

And now, for instance, he had to thank Voldemort for it, since he had become used to the need of thinking fast in sticky situations. His conditions had been accepted by the Guild in exchange for allowing them to study the Resurrection Stone. And that wasn't really a concession on his part, given that Cadmus' journal described in detail how he had produced the Stone, and how to use it. Those passages had been revealed to him after what the spirits had called his bonding with the journal; after empathizing with Cadmus whilst reading it.

Therefore, no matter what the Guild learned from the Stone, he would always know more than them about it thanks to Cadmus' journal. And if the Guild ever decided to create a Resurrection Stone for their own purposes, he would know how to destroy it.

Grindelwald did have a very valid point when saying that knowledge was better kept to oneself, not shared. The Guild was unaware of many things regarding the Resurrection Stone, but foremost regarding him, and he would do his best to keep it that way while also learning as much as he could from them.

Orion waved a hand, wandlessly conjuring a small blade and a quill. He slashed his fingertip with the blade, allowing his blood to drop unto the foot of the parchment, before he vanished the blade and took the quill in his hand.

He dipped the quill's point into the blood, and neatly signed his name underneath theirs; the dark red letters briefly glowing brightly, before the parchment rolled itself and abruptly disappeared from sight.

It was done, with his signature he had committed himself to the training, and all what it would imply, with the distinct possibility of becoming one of them.

Orion glanced up at the row of specter-like Necromancers, his glowing all-black eyes staring into theirs, so similar to his that he felt an eerie sense of belonging.

And what he saw reflecting back from their eyes was nothing short of respect and welcoming. It wasn't evident or blatant, but their eyes did hold a small hint of it, as if it were inevitably surfacing from underneath an unemotional thickness of detachment. What was more, he could feel it, even now, as if it was something they were unconsciously projecting into him.

Unexpectedly enough, he didn't feel as if he had just signed a pact with the Devil, as he thought he would have felt before, when he was plagued with doubts about his path, when he was feeling trapped in his choices.

Rather, he felt as if he had just taken not only one step further, but a leap in his path; feeling a strange, blazing certainty that this had always been meant to happen.


	3. Light friends & Luna's choices

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 3**

On Monday morning, Orion left his bag in the empty dormitory and calmly left Gryffindor Tower to have breakfast in the Great Hall. He walked along the hallways, outwardly serene, though his mind was swirling with countless thoughts.

He had felt calm ever since leaving the Necromancers Guild, knowing he had done the right thing. Grindelwald always told him to leave several doors open, to always trace out several routes aiming towards the same goal, allowing him later to have the flexibility to use and manipulate them for his own benefit.

And that was exactly what he had done; he had opened the possibility of undergoing the trials to become a Necromancer, only committing to the training, nothing more. That granted him freedom of choice in his future decisions, just like Grindelwald always advised him to do.

Thus, he was satisfied with the outcome of the meeting with the Guild. Furthermore, he was intrigued by the Guild's plan regarding the Dementors, he was fascinated with the idea that they could succeed in becoming the new guardians of the Balance between the planes, and he yearned to hold the knowledge they did.

But those thoughts weren't the ones which were dominating his mind, since he knew that he could deal with the consequences of his pact with the Guild. If something negative came out of it –because he didn't fool himself, something unexpected and negative always arose even in the best laid plans- he would deal with it; just like he had always dealt with everything else in his life.

No, the Guild wasn't occupying his thoughts; what did was the realization of one of his motives for accepting the deal he had struck with them. At the time, when he realized it, he had accepted it nonchalantly, still infused in the detached calmness of his Necromantic abilities. Later, recalling it, he had been surprised.

He had accepted the deal for himself, to become more powerful, to become invincible. That realization had struck him hard, since he had never before coveted power; it had never been an aim in itself.

It was then when he knew that he was changing, or better said, that he had changed already.

There was a tiny seed of an idea, deep inside, that whispered about fame, recognition, and absolute power.

It had always been there, he supposed, but it had grown exponentially, undoubtedly spurred by the pull of his dark magic; pull he was already following. It was an idea which grew fiercer after each lesson with Grindelwald, after each time he allowed his wild dark magic to take hold of him.

He had no way of describing it rather than admitting that he had become 'darker'.

Surely, he had dark blood coursing in his veins, but never before had his thoughts and wishes unconsciously yearned to wield more power just for the sake of power. It painfully reminded him of the way Voldemort thought, though it shouldn't have surprised him that he would feel the same way one day; it was the fate of all powerful dark wizards.

Nevertheless, he knew he could control such ambitions, much better than Voldemort could, at least. That didn't trouble him much; what did was the realization that having become 'darker', by the increasing use of his dark magic, also had other consequences.

For instance, it had been quite some time since he had learned how to summon the spirits of deceased relatives during Necromancy class with Vagnarov, yet, not even once, had he summoned his mother or James Potter.

Before, he would have given anything to speak to his mother once more, but now he didn't feel the need. Now, he didn't want to, even when he could get some answers from her. He rather leave the past undisturbed. Furthermore, he didn't yearn to see her either.

She had become a ghost who held no ties on him. Sometimes he felt a bit guilty about it, but he had to recognize that he preferred to remember the idea of her, perfect in the abstract, rather than discover the reality of whom she had really been, of how much she had known or been aware of.

He didn't know if it meant that he had matured, but he no longer yearned for her; she had stopped representing a mother figure to him long ago. Narcissa felt more of a mother to him than Lily Evans ever had, and now that Narcissa wasn't a constant fixture in his life, he felt he didn't need anyone to occupy that place.

And he admitted that the same applied to his father. Surely, he would resurrect his father no matter what, but he knew that his father wouldn't understand many of the choices he had made; he knew his father would prove to be difficult.

Moreover, he wasn't resurrecting him because he needed him, but because he loved the man and because he couldn't allow his soul to be consumed. But the point was that Sirius Black had stopped occupying the place of his father figure, even if the wizard truly was his father. Lucius had occupied it for a while, and later Severus, both giving him what he had yearned for, in their own way. Though now, he didn't feel the need for it any longer.

In short, the ties he had felt towards others had been slowly snapping, one by one; and now he didn't feel the needy yearning any longer.

It got him wondering if it would keep happening until he felt no ties towards anyone. He knew he still felt them towards Calypso, Draco, Lezander, and Voldemort, and recently, towards Grindelwald.

But would those ties snap as well? Was that what Grindelwald meant when saying that the VA had no mate, no equal, no love, that his path was one of darkness, pain, and solitude?

It worried him, he had to admit it, because he didn't want to lose those people, but he recognized it was a possibility; even for more reason now that he had committed himself to undergo the Guild's training, which would inevitably make him colder and more detached, but which was necessary for his aims nonetheless.

Orion sighed and carded his fingers through his hair as he entered the animated Great Hall, automatically seating down in his usual place at the Gryffindor table, his mind still focused in his thoughts.

He decided to not worry about it, because there was always a way and he would find one in which he could become a Necromancer and then the VA without losing part of himself. Because even if he realized that he yearned for power - finally starting to understand what Grindelwald had meant by saying that becoming the VA was worth it, 'for the immense power, the glory, and the strength to ravage the world and rebuild it as it should be' - he knew himself well enough to recognize that power alone wouldn't be enough for him if he didn't have those he loved around him.

That 'caring' nature in him still hadn't been snuffed out, as much as Grindelwald attempted to during their lessons, telling him that caring for others was a weakness his enemies would exploit and that it complicated matters for him.

He understood that Grindelwald was right, but he refused to allow it to happen to him, regardless. It was something about himself he didn't want to change. He rather deal with the consequences than become someone with muted and frozen emotions.

His impulsiveness was some of the other things that Grindelwald was trying to squash from him. And he knew that that aspect of himself had gotten him in trouble in the past, just like his temper.

But those were things he didn't want to lose either because he knew that he had inherited his impulsiveness from his father and his impassionate temper from his mother –according to the way his father and Remus had described her to him.

Even if he didn't feel the needy yearning for a father or a mother, it still filled him with contentment knowing that he resembled them, and he wanted to hold unto those aspects of himself no matter what, knowing that they were part of his humanity – which would be threatened repeatedly given his decision to become a Necromancer and the VA.

A heavy frown lined his features as he settled down at the Gryffindor table. Yes, as Calypso had told him a while ago, he had to find a way to become the VA he wanted, not the detached and ruthless being of his dreams-

"You backstabbing, lousy scumbag!"

Abruptly jostled out of his thoughts, perplexed, Orion blinked at the freckled face swelling in anger that was in front of him.

Ron had pounded his fists on the table, standing up, his face turning into an ugly beet-red shade as the Great Hall erupted into smothered laughter and sniggers.

Disconcerted, Orion glanced around the Great Hall. The Gryffindors were animated, boisterously laughing while a few others were glancing at him disapprovingly, as if he had somehow betrayed his own house. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs also seemed amused, as well as some of the teachers; Snape's lips were quirked into a smirk of vicious enjoyment. And he finally saw the Slytherins who were sniggering and jeering while Draco was playing out some scene or other in a high pitched voice which stuttered about undying love, all of their gazes focused on Ron.

And finally, it clicked and Orion remembered what had happened on Saturday morning. The truth was that he had completely forgotten about it.

"I can't believe I considered you my friend," said Ron through clenched teeth, his face filled with anger and contempt. "I gave you a chance, even knowing that you're a Black. But the papers got it right the first time, didn't they? Even if you're the Boy-Who-Lived, you're nothing more than the son of a Death Eater who got what he deserved, you're no better than the slimy snakes of Slyth-"

"What's the matter, Weaselbee?" jeered Draco from across the Hall, his silvery eyes alight with snide amusement while his lips curved into a wide, malicious smirk. "Aren't you going to entertain us once more by breaking into sonnets? Vane there would like an encore, I'm sure."

The students broke into loud guffaws of laughter, some tittering in their seats, and Ron's face swelled in a deep red, his ears a bright pink.

"You stay away from me!" spat Ron, his fists clenching as he glared at Orion, before he stomped out of the Great Hall as the students' laughter and sniggers became increasingly louder.

Orion had been about to say something to the boy, but he merely shrugged his shoulders, just as he caught sight of Draco surreptitiously shooting him a small smile and an appreciative nod of the head.

"You should have helped him, Orion," said Hermione, looking at him with a disapproving expression on her face. "I'm sure you realized what had happened, I told you about the Chocolate Cauldrons-"

"Yeah, well, it didn't seem important," interrupted Orion dismissively, glancing at her as he poked his eggs around with his fork.

Hermione's expression turned stern. "He is your friend, you should have helped him. Poor Ron, you have no idea how-"

"Yeah, poor Ronniekins," said Seamus in between chuckles, as he patted Orion on the back. "You should have seen him, it was priceless! I'll remember it until the day I die!"

Hermione shot the boy an annoyed glance before she rounded on Orion again. "You must apologize to him-"

"Apologize to him after what he said about me and my father?" snapped Orion, dropping his fork as he glared at her. "And why are you defending him? You've been mad at him since forever!"

"Well, I'm not mad at him any longer," said Hermione, bristling. "I was the one who had to drag him out of the Great Hall before he kept making a fool of himself. I was the one who had to take him to Madame Pomfrey so that she could nullify the effects of the love potion-"

"So you're his friend once more, that's great," interjected Orion, piercing her with a hard glint in his eyes. "But that doesn't mean that I should apologize for anything. It was harmless - a prank! You'd be chuckling if it had happened to someone else, and so would he."

"A love potion isn't harmless," she said briskly, before she narrowed her eyes and brought her face closer to his, whispering sharply, "and he told me that you casted a dark spell on him, Orion. How could you-"

"I'm not hungry anymore," said Orion shortly, standing up from the table in no mood to endure a scolding.

He swiftly made his way out of the Great Hall, but as soon as he had crossed the threshold he felt someone grabbing his arm and turning him around, and he was confronted with a miffed and angry Hermione.

"Ron told the Headmaster about the spell," she said stiffly, "and I'm sure the Headmaster will want to discuss it with you. How could you do that to Ron-"

"It was nothing," snapped Orion with irritation, "I didn't mean any harm to him and I healed him."

Hermione released him and crossed her arms over her chest, her expression unforgiving. "But you let him run around with the effects of a love potion, and you used dark magic-"

"So what?" interrupted Orion sharply. "I'm a Black, want it or not I have dark magic in me. I told you this on our fourth year-"

"You're also a Gryffindor," said Hermione angrily, "and you allowed your friend to run around making a complete idiot of himself-"

"For Merlin's sake, Mione," snapped Orion briskly, inching his face closer to hers, "how can you possibly give it any importance given the times we're living in? Do you really think that I should be worrying about it when there're so many things going on outside these walls?"

Hermione frowned at him. "You mean the war-"

"Of course I mean the war," said Orion impatiently, "I have too much on my mind to be concerned about something as harmless as Ron making a spectacle out of himself."

"And what do you have on your mind?" said Hermione, sharply piercing him with her eyes. "You refuse to talk about the war with me, you refuse to discuss what you do with Dumbledore during your lessons, and you've been pulling away from Ron and me this whole time. You only spend time with Luna Lovegood and you brush your friends away."

"As I said, I have many things on my mind and I need to be alone sometimes."

"But we – I want to help you," persisted Hermione sternly. "I'm your friend and I want to help you, but you won't let me."

Orion measured her up and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want to help me with?"

"With what you'll have to do in the war," said Hermione quietly, her gaze intently inspecting him. "I want to help you fulfill the prophecy, the prophecy you've told the newspapers about but which you don't want to discuss with me. I want to help you since you're helping the Light, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," said Orion calmly. "I'm siding with Dumbledore, I've told you this already."

"Yes," interjected Hermione crisply, "and thus, you can't go around casting dark spells-"

"Will you let it go?" said Orion with irritation. "For that I'm sorry, I did it unintentionally, as a reflex when Ron attacked me, that's all. Nevertheless, I don't need you scolding me as if you were my mother; you aren't, and I don't appreciate it when you behave like an annoying mother hen."

Hermione drew in an angry breath, unwittingly passing a hand over her hair, which made it spring up like the quills of an offended, ruffled peacock.

"Fine," she said briskly, "but my point is that even though you're a Black, you're also the Boy-Who-Lived and you want to help the Light. Therefore, you can't behave like a dark wizard and attack your own friends; you are a dark wizard turned good-"

Orion snorted and brought his face close to hers, as he whispered sharply, "Turned 'good'? Where do you get these black and white notions from? Dark wizards aren't 'bad' and dark wizards helping the Light, like my father was or like I am, aren't 'good'. It's a simple matter of political views, Hermione, not good against evil."

"Yes, so you've told me before," she said sternly, piercing him with her eyes. "But in this war the dark wizards are the ones who want to kill all muggles and muggleborns-"

"So we're told by light wizards," countered Orion casually.

Her eyes narrowed into a shrewd, demanding gaze. "You want the Light to win, don't you?"

"Of course I do," said Orion sharply. "I agree with their ideals and I have Voldemort out for my blood, remember? That doesn't mean, however, that I consider the Light to be a bunch of noble, irreproachable group of witches and wizards. I view them in their reality; they're as flawed as anyone else."

"That might be so," said Hermione stiffly, "but they are the only ones protecting muggleborns and muggles, and they aren't out there killing innocent people."

Orion held in a roll of his eyes and merely nodded dismissively. Hermione was about to round on him again when a hoot interrupted her and Orion saw Ares flying out of the Great Hall towards him.

He held out his arm as Ares settled on it, before he quickly untied a rolled, small letter from the owl's leg.

_Must see you as soon as possible. Use the bracelet._

_S.V._

Orion frowned before he crumbled the letter in his hand and absentmindedly petted Ares on the head. He was rewarded with an annoyed peck on his fingers, before his owl flew away, surely miffed that he hadn't been compensated for his delivery with any treats.

Spoiled, demanding little blighter – thought Orion fondly as he watched his owl fly back into the Great Hall.

Swiftly, he flicked his wrist, catching his shooting wand in his hand, before he quickly tapped the letter with his wand's tip, turning the parchment into dust.

"What was that?"

Orion snapped his eyes to her, and said shortly, "Nothing important."

"You're still going to keep to yourself," said Hermione with a heavy, disgruntled sigh. "I'm your friend and-"

"Are you truly?" said Orion sharply, piercing her with his eyes.

Hermione drew up and said curtly, yet sincerely, "Of course I am, you know that."

"Yes, I do," interjected Orion quietly. "But I don't know if you'll stick by my side no matter what."

"What do you mean by 'no matter what'?" said Hermione, intently gazing at him.

"What I mean is," said Orion in a low voice, "that if I do things that you don't like but which I have reasons for, reasons you might not agree with, will you still show support for me? Will you be willing to understand me and remain my friend?"

"I will as long as you don't betray the Light," she replied sternly, piercing him with her eyes.

Orion mutely nodded; he had not expected anything else, but he did feel a frisson of grim disappointment. He truly considered her a friend and, when the time came, he wouldn't enjoy having her as an enemy, since he would never wish to harm her.

"What are you planning on doing?" said Hermione, deeply frowning at him.

Orion shot her a small smile. "I'm planning on doing my best so that the Light wins."

"Then why did you ask-"

"Because you might not approve of my methods," said Orion dismissively.

"What might those be?" pressed on Hermione, watching him closely.

Orion smirked at her. "Similar to Dumbledore's and I would bet anything that you wouldn't approve of his way of doing things either."

"You could tell me-"

"No, I can't," interrupted Orion curtly. "Dumbledore doesn't want me to tell anyone what we do during our lessons."

"Alright," she said with resigned exasperation, before she pierced him with her eyes, her voice turning sharp. "You have to fix things with Ron-"

"No, I don't," said Orion crisply. "If he has nothing better to do but throw a tantrum because of something as insignificant as what happened to him, then let him. I have much more important stuff to worry about than his overboard anger at me. And let's be honest, the only reason why he wanted to be my 'friend' was because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived –"

"That's not true," snapped Hermione, offended in Ron's behalf. "Ron's not like that-"

Orion snorted. "Believe whatever you want. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take care of something."

He turned on his heels and swiftly made his way to the entrance of the school, before giving her a chance of resuming their discussion and her scolding.

* * *

He was making his way along the spindly path down the hill, reaching the owlerly, since he wanted to write back to Sebastien Valois, both surprised and intrigued with the wizard's request to see him, when he caught sight of someone about to climb the stairs of the small tower.

Orion stopped short in his tracks and gazed at the wizard in surprise. He hadn't seen him since fourth year, though they had corresponded briefly some time ago.

The young wizard was even taller than before and was now a man; he looked strong and leanly muscled, his handsome face still openly friendly, with an air of noble goodness that only a Hufflepuff could manage. Yet Orion noticed some differences; the wizard's sandy hair was now cropped short, his gray eyes held a gravity they didn't have before, and his way of moving denoted efficiency and a strict training, which was instantly explained by robes he was wearing - the dark red robes of a full-fledged Auror.

"I'm glad to see you, Cedric," he said warmly, offering his hand in greeting, "it's been a long time."

Cedric shot him a smile and clasped his hand, shaking it with strength. "Orion, it's good to see you too." His gaze inspected him and he chuckled under his breath. "My, you've changed. You were a short little runt last time I saw you. Mind you, you're still short, but you've grown, and I've heard that you have a flock of girls trailing after you." He broadly grinned at him. "And you have a girlfriend as well. You've become quite the heartthrob."

Orion grimaced, and muttered, "I'm not that short, and I don't have a girlfriend, regardless of what she's telling others."

"Yes, I thought that was the case," said Cedric with a laugh, before he cut it short and eyed him carefully. "I remember that you were very attached to a boy of your school during your fourth year, but later I read that he had died during the Death Eater break into the Department of Mysteries-"

"Yes, he died," said Orion quietly, since very few knew that Lezander had truly come out alive when he had pulled him out of the Veil. He arched an eyebrow, and asked with curiosity, "What are you doing here?"

"My shift just ended and I'm meeting Cho in the owlerly before her first class," replied Cedric, broadly grinning at him.

"Ah, you're still dating her?"

He had to admit that he hadn't paid much attention to Cho Chang, and he only saw her briefly in the Great Hall or in the corridors, but she always acted strangely shy around him and they had barely crossed a few words.

"Yes," said Cedric, a beaming smile spreading over his handsome features. "And I plan to ask her to marry me as soon as she graduates this year."

Orion stared at him in surprise, and he said with heartfelt sincerity, "Well, congratulations are in order, then."

"Thanks," said Cedric brightly, before his voice lowered to a whisper, "but don't tell anyone, it's a surprise."

"I won't," said Orion, shooting him a small smile. Abruptly, his smile faded and he frowned. "What do you mean that your shift just ended?"

Cedric proudly grinned, tapping his wand's tip to the crest on his Auror's robes. "I finished Auror training a few months back and this has been my first assignment. It's been pretty boring so far, but I get the chance of surreptitiously meeting Cho once in a while-"

"Aurors - patrolling the school?" interrupted Orion, his eyes briefly widening.

Though he had never seen them, he should have suspected it. Of course there would be some Aurors protecting the school, since the incident in the Department of Mysteries had revealed to the wizarding public that Voldemort was indeed back. And of course that Dumbledore had pulled some strings to accomplish it, and that Scriumgeour had complied in order to seem to be doing something useful.

Ever since he had shown his public support for Scriumgeour, the Minister had been more active, and this was just a consequence of it; a very unfavorable one given Voldemort's plan of breaching Hogwarts. Though he was certain that Voldemort already knew about the Aurors; nothing escaped that man and he had spies everywhere inside the Ministry.

"Yes, Aurors have been guarding Hogwarts since the start of the school year," said Cedric calmly. He shot him a troubled frown, and added, "Students aren't supposed to know, since we don't want to alarm them, and we are supposed to remain out of sight. I only removed my disillusionment charm because I was about to enter the owlerly to meet Cho. You won't say that you saw me, right?"

"Don't worry," said Orion reassuringly, "I won't."

"Thanks, man," said Cedric, smiling as he patted Orion on the back. "I must take off, she must be waiting for me inside. We should get some drinks one of these days to catch up; send me a note by owl when you're free."

Orion smirked at him. "Sure thing, now go and enjoy her sweet ministrations."

"I will," said Cedric, shooting him a mischievous and deeply content grin, before he quickly climbed the steps of the owlerly.

Orion sighed and warily rubbed his forehead, turning around to get back to Hogwarts since he couldn't disrupt the couple; he would write to Sebastien later. Right now, since he had a few minutes before his first class, he was going to his dorm and use the two-way mirror to alert Draco about the presence of Aurors. He was sure that Voldemort knew but he was also certain that Draco wasn't aware of it; and his friend needed to know, so that he would be prepared when the day of the breach came.

He swore under his breath as he made his way back. Aurors were a complication he hadn't foreseen, and he could only hope that the attack wouldn't happen during one of Cedric's shifts.

He liked the young wizard very much; Cedric had never eyed him suspiciously or treated him wrongly just because he was a Black. And when the newspapers had disclosed that he was Harry Potter, Cedric had written to him a friendly letter, with no intentions of getting anything from him or fishing for more information, but just greeting him with warm camaraderie.

In his opinion, Cedric was just what a light wizard ought to be; friendly, open-minded, noble, a fair player, tolerant of others' differences of opinion and nature, brave, sincere, well-mannered, and kind. Not to mention that the wizard was able and powerful in his own right, and he always respected that.

During his fourth year at Hogwarts, Cedric and Fleur were the only light individuals with whom he had gladly formed a friendship; recognizing in both of them an unprejudiced acceptance of dark wizards. Nowadays, there were few light wizards or witches who didn't instantly consider any dark wizard to be an evil wrongdoer who deserved to be carted off to Azkaban, and Cedric and Fleur were one of the few.

But he sincerely doubted that they would remain so when the true war broke, given that Cedric was now an Auror and that Fleur was –according to her last letter- engaged to Bill Weasley, whom he knew to be part of the Order of the Phoenix.

Orion swore again as he entered Hogwarts, scaring a small first year girl who 'eeped' and disappeared from his sight when he shot her an annoyed glance.

* * *

He hurried down through the deserted corridors; the whole school was still in the Quidditch stadium, watching the match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. He had skipped it in order to continue his zealous study of Cadmus' journal; he was very close to finish all of it, and he knew that very soon he would be prepared to transfer Voldemort's piece of soul out of the Resurrection Stone.

That whole week, after his meeting with the Guild, he had plunged into his study with renewed fervor, wanting to attempt to rescue his father's soul as soon as possible. He was certain that he would be prepared in a few months, since he had learned a lot from the journal's previously hidden passages. He was so excited by his progress that it had started to consume his every thought, and he delved deeper into the journal every second he could spare.

He wasn't worried about anyone suspecting where he disappeared to, since with the use of the time-turner there was always his other self present among the other students. For instance, right now, his other self was watching the game, but he knew that in a few minutes the match would end, and he had to get into the forest as soon as possible, to be there the instant his other self used the time-turner to go back in time.

He rushed through the grounds and entered the Forbidden Forest just when students started to leave the Quidditch pitch, and he hid behind a tree, waiting for his other self to arrive.

In the meanwhile, he couldn't help chuckling under his breath as he remembered the Quidditch game. Who knew what had possessed her to do it, but Professor McGonagall had appointed Luna as the commentator for the match, and he had never enjoyed himself so much.

During the whole match, Luna had appeared singularly uninterested in such mundane things as the score, and had kept attempting to draw the crowd's attention to such things as interestingly shaped clouds and the possibility that Zacharias Smith, who had failed to maintain possession of the Quaffle for longer than a minute, was suffering from something called 'Loser's Lurgy'. And all the while, McGonagall had been barking into the megaphone the scores, her stern brow further furrowing at Luna with each passing second.

He stopped quietly chuckling when he saw himself arriving in the forest and quickly spinning the time-turner three times; knowing that his other self was about to go to Slytherin's chambers to study Cadmus' journal, just as he had already done.

As soon as his other self disappeared, he stepped from behind the tree and glanced around patiently. He had told her to meet him there, as they usually did when they agreed to spend some quiet time together.

And then he saw her; her misty, prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly as she made a beeline straight for him, her orange radishes earrings jostling.

"Hello," she said in her vague and dreamy voice, as soon as she reached him.

Orion warmly smiled at her. "Hi, Luna. Ready to go?"

"Yes," she said with a beaming smile, before they started to make way towards the clearing where they would find the thestrals.

It had become a custom for them to feed the creatures; Luna always brought the meat for them, and after they feed them, they sat in quiet companionship. For him, it had become a calm and relaxed tradition, where he could plunge into his wonderings and meditations while observing the fascinating creatures, while feeling the comfort of her presence by his side.

"Oh, by the way," said Orion with a grin, as they entered the clearing, "nice commentary during the match."

Luna blinked at him. "You're making fun of me, aren't you? Everyone has just told me that I was dreadful."

"I would never make fun of you," said Orion warmly. "I meant it. I've never enjoyed a commentary so much."

"Well, thanks," she said, brightly smiling at him.

They halted near the small family of threstrals, and Luna rummaged her bag, taking out a juicy slab of meat and handing it to Orion, before she took out another and approached one of the adult threstrals.

Orion carefully threw the meat at the baby thestral's hoofs, a small smile spreading on his face when the small creature excitedly attacked it, hungrily gnawing it.

"Ah, I went looking for you before the match," said Luna, cleaning her hands with a handkerchief before she started to rummage in her bag again. "Hold this for me..."

She thrust what appeared to be a green onion, a large spotted toadstool, and a considerable amount of what looked like cat litter into his hands, finally pulling out a rather grubby scroll of parchment.

"I've been told to give you this," she said smiling vaguely, as she took back the green onion, the toadstool, and the cat litter.

Orion accepted the scroll of parchment she held out for him, and sighed heavily when he unrolled and read it.

"I have a lesson with Dumbledore tonight," he muttered, as he sat down on the ground, pocketing the scroll.

"Oh," she said quietly, sitting by his side as she glanced at him with large, misty eyes. "Does it bother you that he's singling you out in this way?"

Orion shrugged his shoulders. "I've expected it ever since everyone found out I was Harry Potter."

"It's because of the prophecy the papers keep mentioning, isn't it?" she said calmly. "That's why the Headmaster is so interested in you."

"Yeah, that's why," he said, gazing contemplatively at the threstrals.

"Is it true that the prophecy foretells that you're the one who's going to kill You-Know-Who?"

Orion's eyes snapped back to her, not feeling intruded upon but at ease, as he always felt with her. "Not quite; it mentions that I'm able to do it."

"But you don't want to," she said serenely, peering at him with her large, misty eyes.

Orion shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to get into this with Luna. How could he tell her the truth when she had been brought up as a light witch, and furthermore, when she was still under Dumbledore's domain?

"If you don't want to, then don't do it," she said simply.

Orion glanced at her with a small frown on his face. "Aren't you going to tell me that it's my duty as the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"No," she said with a small chuckle, her voice dreamy. "I think you should do what you wish, no matter what others expect or demand of you."

"Thanks," said Orion, mystified as he looked at her.

"No thanks is needed," she said with a vague shrug of her shoulders, before she bore her misty eyes into his. "You're my friend; my only one."

Orion nodded awkwardly, accepting it.

"Sometimes I wish you could be more open with me," she said, gazing afar with a dreamy expression on her face. "You're changing and there's much troubling you."

"What do you mean?" he said, his eyes snapping to her.

"There's something in you growing," she said quietly, her large eyes peering at him, "that same thing I've always felt around you, and I think you know what it is."

Orion glanced at the threstrals with a small frown on his face, as she continued in her dreamy voice.

"I've always been different. They call me Loony, because I'm weird and say strange things. But the day I met you on the train, you knew at once that I 'sensed things'. And you said you sensed things as well, though you didn't say what."

"I perceive magic, as a tingling on my skin," said Orion calmly, glancing back at her. "I perceive it more than most, perhaps."

"That's not all you can do." She stared at him with her large, misty eyes, and added quietly, "Sometimes, I can touch ghosts. Can you?"

Orion glanced around and flicked his wand to cast silencing and anti-spying spells around them, before he sunk his eyes into hers. "I've never tried with ghosts. But once, I touched my mother's spirit."

Luna beamed at him. "I touched my mother once as well. It was in a dream, but it was real."

"Your mother died, right?" said Orion quietly. "You mentioned it once."

"Yes," she said serenely. "She was a quite extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment, and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine, and I witnessed it."

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, it was rather horrible," said Luna conversationally. "I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Dad. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?"

Orion pierced her with his eyes. "Isn't it?"

She blinked at him. "I thought you already knew. They just lurk out of sight, that's all. I hear my mother in my dreams sometimes. And I know she's with me. I'm certain that there is a way to contact her. Everything is possible." She showed him her radishes earrings, and added, "See these, they enhance the ability to accept the extraordinary. They're very useful, perhaps you want a pair? My dad cultivates them, so I have plenty. I was also thinking about giving one pair to Hermione, she could use them."

"Tell me," said Orion quietly, sinking his eyes into hers, "this thing you feel growing inside me, does it scare you?"

Luna gazed at him, and said placidly, "No. It feels… dark, but not wrong. It doesn't feel wrong in you. It feels as if it's part of you; something which is taking an increasing hold on you, but also completing you."

"Luna," he said quietly, after accepting her statement, "how do you feel about the war?"

She blinked at him and then gazed dreamily into space. "I will have some pudding."

Orion stared at her, a small smile tugging his lips; he had become quite adept in unraveling the meaning of her words.

"You mean that you're not planning on getting involved."

"As I said, I'll have some pudding," she said, glancing at him with her misty eyes, "and wait for it to fix itself. It always does in the end; always a new balance is reached."

"A balance in the forces of Magic?" said Orion, intently gazing at her.

Luna beamed at him. "Oh, you know about Ravenclaw's theories! My father taught them to me, ever since I was a little girl. Did someone teach them to you?"

"Not exactly," murmured Orion, obviously not telling her about the spirits or the brief mentioning of Ravenclaw's theories in Slytherin's journals; he could only regret that none of Ravenclaw's diaries had survived the pass of time, but he knew that the Founder's general idea was that the forces of Magic had to be left alone so that they found a balance on their own.

"So, in short, you'll remain neutral in the war?"

"You're my friend," she said as a reply.

Orion stared at her, disconcerted. "Yeah, but I don't see how that has anything to do with-"

"You're dark," interrupted Luna tranquilly, peering at him. "And you would never go against your own kind, not with what you have inside you. You can't ignore it; it's what makes you you, it's what makes you dark."

He almost gaped at her. "Er, you know this and you don't care that I'm really supporting-"

"I've always known," said Luna calmly, "since the first time I met you. That's why it surprised me that you accepted to have lessons with Dumbledore. Though I guess it's part of your plan. I don't mind whom you chose to support in the war; it's your right to make your own decision. And I understand it." She gazed at him, and simply repeated, "You're my friend."

Orion warmly smiled at her. "I get it, you're my friend as well and I wouldn't go against you either if you had taken a side in the war."

"I won't take one," she said serenely, "but I will help you if you need me."

"Thanks," said Orion with heartfelt gratefulness. He grabbed her hands, and said quietly, "And you're right, there's a way to see your mother."

"You know? How?" said Luna, her misty eyes boring into his.

"I can't tell you much," he said in a low voice, "because I'm bounded in secrecy, but I can tell you that there's a place where you can learn how to develop certain abilities, abilities you share with me, because I feel it in you. If you develop them enough, you'll be able to interact with your mother and others who have died, but it comes at a high price. The more you learn there, the more it changes you-"

"Necromancy," said Luna, her eyes bright. "Yes, I've read about it. There wasn't much I could discover, it was only briefly mentioned, but I've always thought that perhaps I could-"

"Yes, you could," interrupted Orion sternly, "but it comes at a high price and I wouldn't want you to get into it without fully considering the consequences."

"Then give me the choice," said Luna in her dreamy voice. "I've always felt that this-" she gestured around them "-wasn't for me. That I was missing something; that I was meant to be… somewhere else." She sunk her misty eyes into his, and added, "Give me the choice to decide if what you're talking about is what I want."

"Very well," said Orion, nodding at her, "I think I could take you there, but later." He pierced her with his eyes, and added sternly, "After you graduate, Luna. After you're able to understand what you would be giving up."

"Alright," she said, beaming at him. "Thanks-"

"Don't thank me yet," interjected Orion, "you might not like what becoming a Necromancer involves, what it will turn you into."

Luna sunk her eyes into his, and said with serene and eerie assuredness, "I will."

Orion gazed at her for a long while, and finally said quietly, "Yes, I think you just might."

* * *

After spending some more minutes in silence, each involved in their own thoughts, Orion brought down the spells around them before they made their back to school.

Luna seemed entranced in her own mind, dreamily gazing at space, as they entered Hogwarts, but they halted shortly when Orion saw Lavander standing at the foot of the marble staircase, looking thunderous.

"Why didn't you tell me that you had spare time? And why is she with you?!"

Orion inwardly groaned; his patience with her and her demands was running short. During the week, she had repeatedly accosted him to discuss their relationship –where she got the idea they were a couple, he didn't know, since he had already told her once that he didn't want to date anyone. Nevertheless, she persisted, as if deciding to forgive him for that mental lapse, and she insisted on having lots of in-depth chats about his feelings.

"Luna's my friend," he said shortly, "and I wanted to spend some time with her."

Lavander looked at him incredulously, her anger apparently rising. "You rather spend time with Loony Lovegood than with me? What, you like having your ears filled with ridiculous notions about such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack? Everyone knows she's raving mad!"

Luna gave her a withering look and flounced away, radishes swinging madly.

"Luna, wait!" yelled Orion, but she didn't turn back, and he spun around to face Lavander when she let out a derisive hoot of laughter.

"That was completely uncalled for," he snapped angrily, grabbing her arm forcefully, probably more than required since she yelped.

Lavander gazed at him with a pout and a soft expression on her face. "I just wanted to discuss with you-"

"I don't want to discuss anything," he interrupted sharply, not fooled by her attitude since it wasn't the first time she had pulled it over him. "I told you already that I don't want a girlfriend-"

"But you asked me out to Slughorn's Christmas party," she said, her pout more prominent. "And then you said we could date-"

"Yes, I said that at the time," interjected Orion, with ill-concealed short-temperedness, "but I didn't ask you out afterwards; I thought you would understand that I'm not interested in dating anyone. And I tried to make it clear a few days ago; I don't want a girlfriend."

"You led me on-"

"Perhaps I did," said Orion curtly, "and for that I'm sorry. But my point is that I'm not interested in you."

All pretense of niceness left her, and she crossed her arms over her chest, biting out snidely, "Then the rumors are true? You like boys - you're a pouf?"

Orion clenched his jaw, and gritted out angrily, "That's none of your business."

"Well," snapped Lavander, "you're clearly one if you're rejecting me."

"Think what you will."

Lavander drew up, flicking her blonde hair away from her shoulders, and said sharply, "You can forget about any of the other girls showing any interest in you after this. I'll tell them that-"

"Tell them whatever you like," said Orion crisply, "just leave me the hell alone."

"You bet I will!" she yelled angrily, her face flushing, before she turned on her heels and haughtily climbed the stairs.

Relaxing his clenched jaw, Orion didn't spare her a second thought and he trotted off to Dumbledore's office.

The gargoyle leapt aside at the mention of toffee éclairs, and he took the spiral staircase two steps at a time, knocking on the door just as a clock within chimed eight.

"Enter," called Dumbledore, but as Orion put out a hand to push the door, it was wrenched open from inside.

There stood Professor Trelawney.

Abruptly, he blanched, suddenly remembering the time he had seen her shuffling her tarot cards, her prediction now inexplicably ringing in his ears like a long lost, eerie voice. And now, he didn't cast them away as the nonsensical mumblings of a ridiculous witch.

Now, the words made sense, and he paled further.


	4. The sword & Sebastien's disclosures

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 4**

Orion unwittingly took a step back, his face devoid of color as his mind fogged with a hazy recollection.

In the next instant, he remembered the memory clearly; Trelawney muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack of dirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked, a whiff of cooking sherry surrounding her.

_"Two of spades: conflict… Seven of spades: an ill omen... Ten of spades: violence... Knave of spades: a dark young man, who'll be torn between love and destiny, one who will ruthlessly achieve darkness in the end…"_

An ill omen, conflict, violence, and a dark young wizard who will ruthlessly achieve darkness in the end… It was quite clear that the prediction was about him; about his choice between becoming the VA or sparing Voldemort, the man he loved.

And he had already made the decision of becoming the VA, but her prediction implied that things wouldn't turn out well, that there would be violence, that he would achieve his aim ruthlessly…

In short, that as much as he planned on sparing Voldemort, it wouldn't turn out that way; her prediction implied that the choices were mutually exclusive, a choice between destiny or love - between becoming the VA or having Voldemort by his side.

And he would 'ruthlessly achieve darkness in the end'… Just as his dreams always showed him; him killing Voldemort, and-

"Aha!" cried Trelawney, pointing dramatically at Orion as she blinked at him through her magnifying spectacles. "So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!"

Orion was jostled out of his thoughts, and he glanced at them, quickly forcing himself to regain his composure as he pulled a blank expression over his face, pushing his troubled thoughts away from his mind.

"My dear Sybill," said Dumbledore in a slightly exasperated voice, "there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Orion does have an appointment, and I really don't think there is any more to be said -"

"Very well," said Professor Trelawney, in a deeply wounded voice. "If you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it… Perhaps I shall find a school where my talents are better appreciated…"

She pushed past Orion and disappeared down the spiral staircase; they heard her stumble halfway down, and Orion guessed that she had tripped over one of her trailing shawls.

"Please close the door and sit down, Orion," said Dumbledore, sounding rather tired.

Orion obeyed, noticing as he took his usual seat in front of Dumbledore's desk that the pensieve lay between them once more, as did two more tiny crystal bottles full of swirling memory.

"You look pale, my dear boy," said Dumbledore, gazing at him from the top of his half-moon glasses. He paused, and his gaze intensified as he said quietly, "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Orion almost let out a dry bark of laughter – Something he wished to tell him? Yes, there were many things that the old coot would love to hear from him.

He checked himself in time, and under Dumbledore's piercing all-knowing stare, he didn't squirm on his seat, his shoulders didn't stiffen, and his posture didn't become rigid.

Instead, he calmly gazed back at Dumbledore as if he felt nothing but extremely relaxed and at ease with the old wizard.

Now, he was in control of every single feature on his face, just as Grindelwald made him practice till perfection, for circumstances such as this; his expression obeying what he wanted to convey, impassiveness and coolness.

But inwardly, he was being assaulted by a storm of questions and doubts; the ones he always wondered about.

What was Dumbledore playing at? How much did the old wizard suspect or know about? What was the old coot truly planning?

For he knew that Dumbledore was a force to be reckoned with, both regarding his magical abilities and his mental prowess.

The old wizard surely didn't fully trust him. Dumbledore knew about Grindelwald's unique dark magic, and the old wizard had seen his display in the Department of Mysteries; the old man certainly saw the resemblance between his powers and Grindelwald's.

And the man had to know that magic like that couldn't be easily locked away to never be used, yet that was what Dumbledore had asked of him after the Department of Mysteries fiasco.

Dumbledore had never mentioned it again, so the old wizard must believe that he was struggling to keep his dark magic at bay to never use it, or the wizard knew that he was allowing it to develop, disregarding his petition.

Furthermore, Dumbledore didn't know that he was Voldemort's spouse, but the old wizard knew that, in the past, there had been a closeness between Voldemort and him, since the traitorous rat Pettigrew –whom he had blessedly killed- had told Dumbledore that he had been Voldemort's favorite, and that Voldemort seemed to treat him differently from the rest.

That had been a long time ago, before the Department of Mysteries incident, but Dumbledore could still suspect that he hadn't cut all his ties with Voldemort.

Therefore, what was the real motive for their lessons, besides telling him how Voldemort could be destroyed? Surely Dumbledore didn't underestimate him so much; surely the old man was doing all of this for some other covert reason...

His mind spun, trying to find an answer - trying to discern how much Dumbledore could have found out about the Hallows, if the old wizard had ever discovered something about the VA, if the man even knew what it was- but he came out with nothing.

As always, he found himself unable to unravel all of Dumbledore's plots within plots; with the exception of what Severus had told him about Dumbledore's plans concerning Draco's task and the horcruxes – and even that wasn't clear enough for his taste.

There were too many uncertainties, too many unknowns; he couldn't reach an answer, and it filled him with wariness...

Orion cleared his mind, checking that his Occlumency barriers were fully raised as usual. He always took that precaution with Dumbledore, even if he knew that Dumbledore would never resort to Legilimency, since that would be too blatant and the old wizard was nothing if not subtle, and even if he knew that the only one who could breach his mind was Voldemort, since he was the wizard's horcrux and according to Grindewald his dark magic protected his mind from everyone else.

"No, Headmaster," he said calmly, gazing back at him. "I was just surprised when I saw Professor Trelawney here. I suppose she isn't happy that the centaur is teaching, then?"

He hadn't taken up Divination for his PRIMEs –the NEWTs counterpart in Durmstrang- since they didn't teach it at Durmstrang and he had only been forced to take it during his fourth year at Hogwarts, but he had often been subjected to Lavander's excited chatter about the centaur Firenze.

Though he still didn't know why Dumbledore had taken in the centaur; he suspected that perhaps the old wizard was trying to forge an allegiance with the centaurs through Firenze.

"She isn't happy at all," said Dumbledore, with a tired sigh. "Divination is turning out to be much more trouble than I could have foreseen, and I can't ask Sybill Trelawney to leave. Between ourselves, she has no idea of the danger she would be in outside the castle. She does not know - and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her - that she made the prophecy about you and Voldemort, you see. Even if Voldemort has already heard the prophecy, he would still attempt to seize her in order to break her mind and dig in for more information…" He heaved a deep sigh, then said, "But never mind my staffing problems. We have much more important matters to discuss." He pierced Orion with his gaze, and said gravely, "Firstly, I've been informed that you used a dark spell against one of your housemates."

"Ah, yes," said Orion coolly, "I'm sorry about that - it was a reflex."

Dumbledore shook his head, his expression one of deep disappointment. "My dear boy, the use of dark magic isn't allowed in this school, as I'm sure you're aware. I cannot condone such behavior."

"It was in self defense," interjected Orion gruffly. "Ron attacked me first-"

"Regardless," said Dumbledore sternly, "the use of dark spells is prohibited in Hogwarts, no matter the circumstances. And you have to abide the school rules now that you're a student here. I must impress upon you the severity of what you have done." He shot him a piercing gaze from the top of his spectacles. "You must never use dark magic again."

"I understand," said Orion calmly, "I won't do it again."

Dumbledore's gaze became more intent. "Good. Let this be your first and only warning, since if you relapse your punishment will have to be more severe. For now, you'll have to serve detention every Friday until the end of the school year."

"Alright, sir," said Orion, with a curt nod. "With whom?"

"Professor Trelawney; she could use some of your help."

Orion inwardly groaned. He had expected to serve detention with Severus, since the wizard was his guardian and they still acted as if they didn't tolerate each other.

"Fine," he grumbled.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore cheerfully, resting back against his plush armchair, before his expression turned serious again. "That sorted, have you managed the task I set you at the end of our previous lesson?"

"Ah," said Orion, thinking fast on what he had planned on saying in order to forestall the man, since he wanted to wait a bit longer before giving the old wizard the memory from Slughorn that Voldemort had already modified. The longer he held that memory from Dumbledore, the longer he had before the old man held all the evidence needed to embark on the quest of finding and destroying the horcruxes. "Well, I asked Professor Slughorn about it at the end of Potions, sir, but he wouldn't give it to me."

There was a strained silence.

"I see," said Dumbledore eventually, peering at Orion over the top of his half-moon spectacles and giving Orion the usual sensation that he was being X-rayed. "And you feel that you have exerted your very best efforts in this matter, do you? That you have exercised all of your considerable ingenuity? That you have left no depth of cunning unplumbed in your quest to retrieve the memory?"

"Well," said Orion, his tone of voice becoming defensive on purpose, "I approached him under the excuse of wanting to know a bit more about my mother, since in our first meeting with Professor Slughorn he made it evident that he had esteemed her. Then I remarked how she had sacrificed herself for me, and how her sacrifice would mean nothing if Voldemort wasn't defeated, and that to defeat him I needed to know as much as possible about Voldemort. But as soon as I mentioned the word 'horcrux', he freaked out, and yelled that he knew nothing about it and that you had sent me to-"

"Yes, he would have reacted in that way," interrupted Dumbledore sternly. "But I thought that after your first failure to retrieve the memory from Professor Slughorn, you would have tried further. I thought I made it clear to you how very important that memory is. Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you that it is the most crucial memory of all and that we will be wasting our time without it."

Dumbledore had not raised his voice, he did not even sound angry, but Orion could tell that the old wizard was expecting that cold disappointment would compel him to try harder to redeem himself.

And he wondered why Dumbledore was using that tactic, since it meant that he should be vying for his favor, that he needed the old man on his side. Even under the pretenses they were working with, why would Dumbledore believe himself to be the only person to whom he could turn to?

The silence stretched between them, only punctuated by the little grunting snores of the portrait of Armando Dippet over Dumbledore's head.

Orion felt it strangely ominous, as if there was something he wasn't grasping; the reason for Dumbledore's assuredness of his need of him.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said at last, making sure that his face didn't reveal the wary troubledness of his thoughts. "I should have done more. I should have realized you wouldn't have asked me to do it if it wasn't really important."

"Thank you for saying that," said Dumbledore quietly. "May I hope, then, that you will give this matter higher priority from now on? There will be little point in our meeting after tonight unless we have that memory."

"I'll do it, sir," said Orion with stern determination, while his mind raced trying to figure out what was escaping him. "I'll get it from him."

"Then we shall say no more about it just now," said Dumbledore more kindly, "and we'll continue with our story where we left off. You remember where that was?"

"Yes, sir. Voldemort killed his father and his grandparents and made it look as though his Uncle Morfin did it. Then he went back to Hogwarts and he asked Professor Slughorn about horcruxes."

"Very good," said Dumbledore. "But now, Orion, now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give us a full account of his life since he left Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you."

Dumbledore indicated the two little crystal bottles gleaming beside the pensieve. "I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely."

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Orion nodded as Dumbledore rambled about his conclusions after they had seen the first memory; the one he had already seen long ago, since the memory of Hepzibah Smith's house elf was one of the two memories he had stolen from Dumbledore's pensieve on his fourth year.

It was nothing he didn't know already; Tom, against the higher expectations of Hogwart's staff, had gone to work for Borgin and Burkes, and he had visited Hepzibah Smith. The memory showed the Hufflepuff's cup –which he didn't know where it was, though Tom had told him once that it was probably being guarded by some faithful Inner Circle Death Eater, possibly in a manor or vault- and Slytherin's locket –which, unbeknownst to Dumbledore, had already been destroyed when Voldemort merged back with Tom's piece of soul.

Nevertheless, it was still significant that Dumbledore had shared that memory with him, given that the old wizard had never showed him Ogden's memory, where Marvolo Gaunt had displayed the Peverell ring with the Resurrection Stone. Dumbledore had only narrated the event, without ever mentioning the ring.

Therefore, he was convinced once more that Dumbledore -even though the old wizard had no problem in discussing the rest of the horcruxes he suspected about- didn't want him to know about the Hallows. It only reaffirmed his suspicions that Dumbledore was keeping much to himself –as usual- and that the old man probably feared that he would find out about the existence of the Hallows…

Orion blinked, suddenly struck by a ray of comprehension; Dumbledore had some grasp about what he was – Grindelwald's successor, to name it in some way- and the old man didn't want him to travel the path Grindelwald had. Dumbledore might not know about the VA –and he was starting to seriously doubt that- but the old man certainly knew that the Hallows were needed for something; more valuable joined than separate...

Dumbledore knew much more than he had ever suspected, but yet, he still had a lot of questions on his mind about the expansiveness of what the old wizard knew or suspected. And the matter was starting to grate on him.

"…And now let's see the very last recollection I have to show you, at least until you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory for us. Ten years separates Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing..."

Orion was jostled out of his thoughts, and he got to his feet once more as Dumbledore emptied the last memory into the pensieve.

"Whose memory is it?" he asked.

"Mine," said Dumbledore.

And Orion dived after Dumbledore through the shifting silver mass, landing in the very office he had just left. There was Fawkes slumbering happily on his perch, and there behind the desk was Dumbledore, who looked very similar to the Dumbledore standing beside Orion, though his face was, perhaps, a little less lined. The one difference between the present-day office and this one was that it was snowing in the past; bluish flecks were drifting past the window in the dark and building up on the outside ledge.

The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something, and sure enough, moments after their arrival, there was a knock on the door and he said, "Enter."

Orion let out a hastily stifled gasp. Voldemort had entered the room.

His features were not those Voldemort had when the wizard had created one more horcrux, before Orion had convinced him to undo it by merging back with another: they were not as snake-like, the eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, and yet he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle.

It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that Orion knew they could become if the wizard kept making more horcruxes, since the wizard had undergone many blood rituals to make his body stronger - and Orion suspected that Voldemort must have used some snake-like magical creature blood for that purpose, given the way that Voldemort's features had turned snake-like when the wizard had stupidly created one horcrux too many.

Thankfully, he had convinced Voldemort to undo it by merging back with another horcrux, but still, something inside him painfully throbbed when he gazed at this Voldemort, feeling a surge of anger mingled with a hint of sorrow, knowing that everything could have turned out differently for Voldemort if it hadn't been for the spirits' meddling.

And not for the first time, Orion wished he could have a way of turning back time to fix things, to give Voldemort a chance to become something else out of his own free will.

He pulled himself out of his musings, and glanced at the scene before him. The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently this visit had been made by appointment.

"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore easily. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," said Voldemort, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured - the very seat, by the looks of it, that Orion had just vacated in the present.

"I heard that you had become headmaster," he said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been. "A worthy choice."

"I am glad you approve," said Dumbledore, smiling. "May I offer you a drink?"

"That would be welcomed," said Voldemort. "I have come a long way."

Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the pensieve, but which then was full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat behind his desk.

"So, Tom... to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Voldemort did not answer at once, but merely sipped his wine.

"They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said. "These days, I am known as -"

"I know what you are known as," said Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly. "But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."

He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless.

Nevertheless, Orion felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly: Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and Orion could tell that Voldemort took it as such. Furthermore, he agreed with Voldemort since Dumbledore was blatantly displaying a lack of respect and consideration by addressing him by 'Tom'; it was evident that Dumbledore wasn't trying to reach a peace-treaty between them. But it didn't surprise Orion at all, he knew that Dumbledore had never tried to fix matters between Voldemort and him; the old wizard had never tried to show Voldemort other possibilities, other paths to attain his aims, or to persuade Voldemort to have a different perspective about the problems of the wizarding world .

"I am surprised you have remained here so long," said Voldemort after a short pause. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."

Orion almost nodded, interested in the question, since he had often asked himself the same thing; Dumbledore's peculiar lack of ambition.

"Well," said Dumbledore, still smiling, "to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching too."

Orion held in a frown as he inspected the younger Dumbledore; the wizard's answer didn't sound too convincing to his ears, he wondered if there wasn't any underlying reason...

"I see it still," said Voldemort. "I merely wondered why you, who are so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who have twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister-"

"Three times at the last count, actually," said Dumbledore. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine. Dumbledore did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to talk first.

"I have returned," he said, after a little while, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected... but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard."

Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.

"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said quietly. "Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."

Orion inwardly grinned; that was just so 'Voldemortish'.

"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore delicately.

"Certainly," said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed-"

"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of some. Of others, you remain... forgive me... woefully ignorant."

Orion held in a scoff. The same could be said about Dumbledore and his refusal to consider the Dark Arts as a discipline of knowledge and magic worthy of being learned and preserved.

Then, for the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage, and Orion had to force himself to remain impassive as a shiver ran down his spine; it was a shiver of pleasure and longing, for he couldn't help feeling those things whenever Voldemort turned darker and more dangerous.

By Merlin, Orion had to admit to himself, that only Voldemort managed to thrill and arouse him in that way. He always felt a spike of smoldering lust when Voldemort became threatening, and that feeling only seemed to have intensified after their bonding ceremony, though luckily it had been a while since he had had a major confrontation with his spouse. He would never admit it, of course, but he sometimes missed their bouts of violent quarrels; their relationship had cooled off, each of them with other things on their minds… He missed it so much…

Orion cleared his head, annoyed at himself, and glanced back at the scene before him.

"The old argument," said Voldemort softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," suggested Dumbledore.

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?" said Voldemort. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

Orion stared at him with surprise; this was something Voldemort had never told him about. Why would the wizard want to become a teacher? It made no sense.

"And what will become of those whom you command?" said Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow. "What will happen to those who call themselves - or so rumor has it - the Death Eaters?"

Orion could tell that Voldemort had not expected Dumbledore to know this name; he saw Voldemort's eyes flash red again and the slit-like nostrils flare.

"My friends," he said, after a moment's pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure."

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," said Dumbledore. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken," said Voldemort.

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them - Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov - awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."

There could be no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Voldemort; however, he rallied almost at once.

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore lightly, though Orion quickly filed away that information for he hadn't known that the weird, old wizard of Hog's Head was Dumbledore's friend - a member of the Order nowadays, perhaps?

"Now, Tom…" Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture. "Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."

"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"

Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job -"

"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."

And Orion agreed with the man, Voldemort's request was strange. But then he saw Voldemort's gaze flicker to some point on the wall; it was imperceptible, in a fraction of a second, and he had only caught it because he was very familiarized with Voldemort.

He looked around, wondering what Voldemort had glanced at, and his eyes suddenly caught sight of something he had never paid much attention to.

Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage. "This is your final word?"

"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom... I wish I could..."

Orion felt a flare of indignation in Voldemort's behalf; the old coot could pretend to be as sad as he wanted but he had certainly never done anything to offer Tom a way out of becoming Voldemort. The old man's prejudices and dislike for dark wizards had never allowed him to consider helping Tom. And threats about making Voldemort repay for his crimes was evidently not the way to go.

For a second, Orion felt a frisson of cheering anticipation when he saw Voldemort's hand twitch toward his pocket and his wand; but then the moment passed, Voldemort had turned away, the door was closing, and he was gone.

Orion felt Dumbledore's hand close over his arm again and moments later, they were standing together on almost the same spot, but there was no snow building on the window ledge.

"Why?" said Orion at once, looking up into Dumbledore's face. "Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?"

"I have ideas," said Dumbledore, "but no more than that."

"What ideas, sir?" pressed on Orion, since he was fairly certain that the old man knew exactly why; if he had caught Voldemort's glance during his first view of the memory, Dumbledore had certainly detected it after seeing the memory several times.

"I shall tell you, Orion, when you have retrieved that memory from Professor Slughorn," said Dumbledore. "When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear... to both of us."

Orion felt a spike of anger and even though Dumbledore had walked to the door and was holding it open for him, he did not move at once.

"Was he after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He didn't say..."

"Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," said Dumbledore. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort."

The old wizard held the door open wider for him, evidently indicating that he was dismissed, but Orion didn't bother to acknowledge it, and he glanced around the office.

Finally, he caught sight of it, though it was in a different place than where it had been in the memory, and he purposely strode to stand in front of an obscured glass recipient imbedded into one of the walls of the office.

He felt powerful wards protecting the glass case, and he stared at the object inside, at what Voldemort had glanced towards; it was a beautiful sword with a handle gleaming with rubies of the size of eggs, and he stifled a gasp when he saw 'Godric Gryffindor' engraved below the hilt.

"This is what he wanted," said Orion quietly, his gaze never leaving the sword. "One of the reasons, at least, of why he wanted to be in Hogwarts for a while." He cocked his head to a side as he examined it further. "No doubt that Voldemort wanted to steal it and use it to make a horcrux."

He raised a hand to touch the glass pane when, abruptly, Dumbledore gently caught his wrist.

"I wouldn't touch it if I were you," said the old wizard calmly. "It's heavily protected."

Orion dropped his hand, and cocked an eyebrow. "Why? You have a lot of valuable artifacts in your office-" he glanced pointedly at the swirling and wheezing objects on the wizard's desk "- yet none of them are warded. What makes this heirloom so special?"

"It's a masterpiece of goblin-work," said Dumbledore, "made by Ragnuk the First."

"It's not a horcrux, is it?" said Orion, gazing back at it, though he knew the answer already; he didn't feel any strange pull towards it, as it happened with the other horcruxes.

"It isn't," replied Dumbledore, "but I believe that you're right in suspecting that one of Voldemort's reasons for petitioning the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts was to take a hold of it."

Orion imperceptively shivered; the sword held powerful magic, he felt it tingling on his skin, even through the warded glass panes.

"What can it do?" he said quietly, further inspecting the sword, itching to touch it.

"Nothing too extraordinary," said Dumbledore dismissively, with a small smile. "Now, I hope you'll instantly inform me when you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory."

Orion felt a surge of irritation at the old wizard's persistence in keeping him as ignorant as possible, but he nodded politely and made his way out, his mind spinning.

As he ambled along the corridors, making his way back to Gryffindor Tower, he wracked his brain to remember each time he had seen the sword, for it was clear that it was important if Dumbledore refused to tell him more about it right away.

He had never paid close attention to it, but it had been there every time he had visited Dumbledore's office, yet…

Orion frowned and bit his lower lip. Yet, the first time he had ever seen it had been when he had broken into Dumbledore's office in his fourth year, and he remembered seeing the sword but not in the same place, and certainly not with such powerful wards guarding it.

It was clear that, since then, Dumbledore had thought it important to protect it further. But why? Certainly not only because it was a heirloom. The old wizard had other priceless artifacts innocently lying around his office with no protection at all.

No, for some reason, the sword had become important as of lately. And he knew it wasn't a horcrux… so, why?

Orion fiercely rubbed his forehead, thinking hard. It was a matter of timing. The sword was important to Dumbledore now, as it hadn't been before… And the difference between now and then was…

He blinked and halted in his tracks. Of course, the difference was Dumbledore's quest to find and destroy all the horcruxes. So if the sword wasn't a horcrux, it could only mean…

His eyes widened with shocked surprise. It could only mean that the sword was powerful enough to destroy a horcrux!

He stifled a gasp. Merlin's beard, why had he never thought about that before? He snorted, and continued his way. Well, he knew why, he never had the serious intention of destroying any horcruxes so he hadn't bothered in thinking how it could be done.

Orion shook his head in befuddled startlement. It was quite astounding that the sword was powerful enough to destroy a horcrux. He knew perfectly well how horcruxes were created and all the protective enchantments that went with it. He had the book written by Sylvester Slytherin –courtesy of his childhood tutor Ragnarok and of the recently murdered Gregorovitch, both of them part of the Aux – and he had read it extensively a long while ago, when he had been knowledgeable enough to understand it.

So he knew that a horcrux couldn't be simply flung against a wall and broken; if a wild pack of hippogriffs stomped on a horcurx, it wouldn't even dent it. A horcrux could only be utterly destroyed by its original maker, or, logically, but a magical artifact powerful enough. A Light magical artifact, he corrected himself; in this instance, only light magic could overcome the intense dark magic of a horcrux.

But it perplexed him nonetheless. The sword had been made by goblins but it was clear that Godric Gryffindor had to be the one to infuse the artifact with magic. Had the Founder done it knowing what Slytherin had been researching? Knowing that his former best friend had found a way of anchoring his soul to this plane, and thus, the Founder had infused his sword with the magic necessary to destroy something which was an abomination to his eyes?

Yes, it could be, or perhaps some Gryffindor descendant had done it later, when Slytherin's grandson, Sylvester, had completed the research on horcruxes...

He shook his head; that wasn't important. What mattered was what to do about it. Should he try to steal the sword so that Dumbledore wouldn't have that means to destroy a horcrux? But then, if the sword was suddenly stolen, it would be too obvious; Dumbledore would suspect him right away…

Orion heavily sighed. No, he wouldn't do anything unless it was necessary in the future. He had enough to worry about. He would simply keep the sword in mind...

And what about his first concern; Trelawney's prediction?

He shook his head, swiftly deciding that he had to cast Trelawney's prediction into the deepest pit of his mind. Prophecies and predictions could pile on him as much as they liked, he was not going to allow them to influence his decisions or dictate his life; not when they kept foretelling nasty things coming his way.

Someone could have very well predicted that he was going to be a happy little bugger, couldn't they?!

Orion huffed with angry indignation as he stomped along a corridor, unwittingly frightening some wandering second year Hufflepuff who yelped and scurried away.

Trelawney's Inner Eye could very well obsess over someone else, instead of being insistently infatuated with him. He was tired of it!

Good, he wouldn't think about it; he had already decided to become the VA, and that was it - no turning back.

Nevertheless, now one thing was clear to him; no matter what Dumbledore suspected about his true allegiances, the old wizard had some reason to believe that he would turn to him, and that he would side with him, in the end.

He grumbled with troubled wariness. He could hardly ask Dumbledore, but - why? Why would Dumbledore be so certain about that, given all that the wizard must suspect about him?

Feeling deeply frustrated, reaching no conclusion, he carded his fingers through his hair, before pulling a carefree expression on his face when he said the password to the Fat Lady and entered the Gryffindor common room.

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Standing in the path that led to Sølvanghøj, outside Durmstrang's wards, Orion fastened his hooded cloak tighter around him while he plucked an elegant, silver bracelet from one pocket.

It was Saturday night, and he had surreptitiously left Durmstrang castle after spending some idle time with his friends after supper. As usual these days, Viktor had been absent from the sixth years' common room, surely being occupied with Titania somewhere, and Orion had been engaged in trivial chatter with Evander and Kara, since Calypso hardly said a word to anyone nowadays. He had long stopped his attempts to draw her in to their conversations, leaving her in peace, as he had promised her.

Though, he still worried about her, and he still felt a pang of hurt whenever he gazed at her pale and withdrawn face, her eyes sometimes finding his but refusing to disclose anything.

Orion had to admit that he missed her terribly, that he yearned to have her companionably lying on his bed with one arm draped around her while they quietly discussed matters, as they used to do before. He longed to have his best friend and most trusted confidant back, to tell her about all the good and terrible things he had discovered since their estrangement, to listen to her opinion and advice –since he still had many things to plan.

And by Merlin that it hurt every time he casually tried to hug her and she skittered away from him, shooting him an apologetic and sorrowful glance before scurrying away to her dorm to study.

She had left an emptiness in him that not even Luna could fill, since Calypso had always been the one person who knew him best and the one person who had always stood by him, no matter what.

Yet, however much it pained him, he was keeping his end of the bargain, and he was leaving her alone.

Orion sighed and pulled away from his despondent thoughts, while he glanced around to make sure that he was alone.

He clutched the bracelet tighter, and whispered, "Pierrefonds."

After an inexorable pull around his body and a swirl of meshing colors, his feet landed on the ground. The sky was dark and filled with sparkling stars, and he was once again standing before one of the most beautiful castles he had ever seen; though there were no muggle tourists snapping photos and entering the castle this time – it was too late at night.

He swiftly strode towards the entrance, crossing the archway and taking the steps, feeling magical wards tingling on his skin. Quickly, he smoothened his cloak with one hand, before knocking on the grand door.

Instantly, the door cracked open, and a small dignified house-elf, dressed in a petite frack coat, peeped outside.

Orion recognized him from before, and he said quietly, "Phillipe, je veux voir Sebastien."

The house-elf didn't seem to be in a very amenable mood, since he simply grumbled something about late hours and lack of consideration, and opened the door wider, before turning around and bustling along the wide hallway, the frack tails trailing on the marble floor.

Orion closed the door behind him and shrugged off his cloak, hanging it on a perch by the entrance, before making sure that his formal, dark green robes were wrinkle-free and properly arranged. Grindelwald had drilled into his skull that he always had to dress smart to appear magnificent and worthy of respect, especially when dealing with supporters and allies.

He heard a whistling of appreciation and he spun around, seeing Sebastien striding towards him with a charming smile on his face, the wizard's hazel gaze travelling over him. As usual, the French wizard looked princely in his light blue robes, and appeared to be in a friendly, mischievous mood.

"Iz zat for my benefit?" said Sebastien, looking pointedly at Orion's rich robes, a wicked smile on his face. "I'm flattered, but it wazn't necezzary, mon cher, I rather zee you without any robes at all."

Orion snorted and offered his hand in greeting. "We're here to talk business, so I dressed accordingly, Bastien."

"Buzinezz? Non, nothing zo boring az zat," said Sebastien pleasantly, disregarding the offered hand and wrapping an arm over Orion's shoulders, pulling him towards the main parlor while his gaze unabashedly inspected him closely, a smirk on his face. "It haz been a long time, but I'm happy to zee zat you look even more gorgeouz zan I remembered, mon petite."

Orion rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks." He side-glanced at him, and added with a small smile, "I'm glad to see you too, Bastien. The last time I saw you was in my bonding ceremony, but regrettably I don't have much time-"

"Nonzenze," interrupted Sebastien, waving a hand dismissively. "Zere iz always time to spend wiz a good friend, and we are good friends, non?"

"I don't know," said Orion cocking an eyebrow, as they entered the grand and elegant parlor. "Are we?"

Sebastien halted his strides, and glanced at him, chuckling. "Of courze we are!" He shot him a devilish grin. "It doezn't matter if you choze to attach yourzelf to zat nasty wizard, I still conzider you my friend." He grasped Orion's hand, pulling him down on a plush, XV century chaise lounge, and added with a wink, "And I hope you'll alwayz regard me az a friend az well."

"Yes, why not," said Orion coolly, glancing around him.

The room was the same as he remembered. There were several couches and tea tables, with the grand piano and harp on one corner, the walls covered by sky blue silk damask, with fleur-de-lis sparely engraved here and there, narrow light gray stripes marking the doors and windows, and several beautiful sculptures perched on column-like pedestals, while everything was illuminated by sparkling chandeliers hanging high up from the ceilings.

He glanced back at Sebastien, and caught him unawares; the French wizard was intently observing him, his expression troubled, before he cleared it from his face and broadly smiled at him in a carefree manner.

"Ah," said Orion, nonchalantly stretching back on the chaise lounge, "so many masks, Bastien, even between 'friends'. And you expect me to believe that everything stands the same between us? Even after I became Voldemort's spouse and after I decided to break away from the spirits, which you surely know about given that you're an Aux-"

Abruptly, Sebastien tightly clutched Orion's hands, and whispered sharply, bringing his face inches away from his, "Do you want me to take you away, Orion? You know zat nobody would find you in ze Lago Di Como Villa-"

"What are you talking about?" said Orion, startled. "Why would I want you to take me away?"

"Why?" hissed out Sebastien, a look of intense frustration on his face. Abruptly, he stood up and gazed down at him, his voice clipped, "Becauze you have irrevocably complicated matters, mon cher. I told you zat you shouldn't bond wiz ze Dark Lord, and now-"

"And now I am my own person," snapped Orion, remaining seated though leveling the towering wizard with a glare. "You wrote saying that I had to see you as soon as possible, so let's cut through the chit-chat, what's so important-"

"Oui," cut in Sebastien, angrily swatting away a curl of dark blonde hair from his face, "let'z cut through ze chit-chat." His light hazel eyes narrowed at Orion, and he said sharply, "Did you ever zeriously conzider my propozal?"

Orion blinked at him, before groaning and rubbing his forehead. "What – your offer of marriage, Bastien? Is that what all this is about? It's a bit too late for that, isn't it?"

"It'z not too late," said Sebastien fiercely, tightly gripping Orion's wrists to pull them away, as he pierced him with a hard glint in his eyes. "It'z not too late if you want out. And I'm in a pozition to give you zat."

"If I want out from what?" interjected Orion with exasperation, jerking his wrists free from the wizard's grasp. "From my marriage with the Dark Lord? No, I don't want out from that, Bastien-"

"Out from ze path you've taken," interrupted Sebastien sharply, his expression annoyed and frustrated. "Away from danger, now zat you've turned ze spirits against you, and away from ze perils zat will threaten you if you persist on becoming ze Vindico without zeir support and without being truly prepared, zince you're too stupidly stubborn to realize zat ze only pozzible way you'll succeed is if you kill your beloved Dark Lord!"

Orion gazed at him with a deep frown on his face. "Wait – how can you speak to me so openly about the VA and the spirits if you're bounded by a vow of secrecy?"

"But zings are changing, aren't zey?" said Sebastien shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know Komorov, oui? You know zat Roman iz ze Aux leader now." Orion nodded, and the French wizard continued, now tightly smirking at him. "Well, I've risen in ze ranks too, I'm hiz right hand, if you will, and az such, I'm no longer bounded to ze more restrictive measures of ze vow I took as an Aux of ze lower echelons of our hierarchy. Everything has started to change now zat Vagnarov can no longer be ze leader. Ze young taking over ze older Aux, as it inevitably has to happen at zome point. Changes of allegiances and power shifts within ze Aux are happening; and zat's why I'm offering you a way out, now zat I can, before you get in too deep."

"Wait a minute," said Orion, shaking his head as he stood up, before he pierced the wizard with a sharp, demanding gaze. "What are you telling me, that you and other Aux don't want me to become the Vindico?"

"I don't want you to keep following ze path to become ze Vindico," said Sebastien in clipped tones, "if you're not fully committed to it. Of course zat I want someone to become ze VA eventually, but it doesn't have to be you if you don't want it. And now is your last chanze to turn back-"

"I don't want to turn back," snapped Orion impatiently, "and I am fully committed-"

Sebastien scoffed. "But you refuze to kill ze Dark Lord, oui? Zat's not being fully committed, mon cher."

"Listen to me," said Orion sharply, taking a step to stand inches away from him, "how I go about it is my business, but I am fully committed to become the Vindico. That you, the rest of the Aux Atrum, and the spirits see no other way for me to do it without killing Voldemort, doesn't mean that there isn't another way!"

"Ah, oui, by becoming a Necromanzer, right?" snapped Sebastien, scowling at him. "And how iz THAT a good idea?"

"It seems that you're kept well informed now that you're the Aux's second in command," said Orion coolly, smirking at him. "Good for you, my friend. And yes, that's exactly what I intend to do. And I don't see why you oppose it, since I'm positively certain that it's exactly what the spirits want me to do."

"Precizely," hissed out Sebastien, his eyes narrowing, "zat's what ze spirits want you to do and you're falling in zeir plans. On ze other hand, I don't want you to become a Necromanzer becauze I know what will happen to you-"

"And you care for me," said Orion, with a snide snort, "is that it?"

"Oui!" snapped Sebastien heatedly, glaring at him. "Zat's exactly why I'm offering you a way out-"

"You're suggesting that I flee to your Villa, Bastien," cut in Orion, in a steely tone of voice. "That won't solve anything, since I have many things to do and since I want to become the Vindico. You're offering me an escape, and I don't want to escape from anything. Not to mention that even if I wanted to escape, I couldn't because of the bloody pull of my dark magic-"

"I could find a solution for zat," interrupted Sebastien sternly. "I'm sure zere are potions to diminish ze intenzity of one's dark magic-"

"And then I would do what, for Merlin's sake?" said Orion with exasperation. "Lull around your Villa like a useless lump of a wizard? Doing nothing, with my magic muted, while wars are raged in the wizarding world? I think not!"

Abruptly, Sebastien tightly grasped Orion's chin, pulling his face inches away from his, and he hissed out, "Zen, if you truly want to become ze Vindico, do it properly, mon cher. Kill Grindelwald, kill ze Dark Lord, and stop playing around. Your time is running short and ze longer you take ze more dangerouz it will be for you-"

"Dangerous?" said Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. "The only danger I face is to die if I don't survive the VA test, or to go mad if I don't eventually attempt it."

Sebastien scoffed, before arching an eyebrow. "Do you truly think zat's it? Do you truly think zat no one will threaten you and zat you'll rise unopposed?"

"What are you talking about, Bastien?" said Orion, deeply frowning at him. "Other wizards, threatening me?" He snorted. "The Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore?"

"To name a few," said Sebastien sharply, "and you shouldn't undereztimate-"

"I never underestimate others," interrupted Orion, piercing him with his eyes. "But, as far as I know, no light wizard knows about the VA, so how could they represent a danger?"

"Zey'll eventually find out when you get clozer to your aim," said Sebastien sternly, "and zere's no way of discerning how much Dumbledoor really knows. Circe knows zat we have Aux spying on him wherever we can, but zat wizard is a sly one, mon cher, and he's on ze move; he has been for a very long while. But I'm not only talking about light wizards, I'm also referring to ze dark wizards who will oppose you all ze way until you become ze Vindico, because dark wizarding kind won't follow you until zen, unless you count with ze spirits' support. And since at present you don't, ze Aux can do nothing to protect or help you."

"How can dark wizards know if the spirits support me or not?" said Orion, frowning at him. "No one, but the Aux, knows about them."

Sebastien smirked at him, his hazel eyes glinting. "Ah, but ze spirits have always planned on doing zeir grand apparition before ze masses. Zey've never done it before, of courze, but zey will when zey are certain zat ze candidate will succeed, and zey have to do it before ze candidate undergoes ze ultimate test. It is zen, when zey'll disclose zeir existence. Imagine it, Morgana and Mordred appearing before masses of congregated dark wizards, proclaiming zat zeir task is done and zat ze prophet of dark wizarding kind's legends has finally arisen, telling zem zat zeir prophesied prophet is no other zan ze one who can become ze Vindico. Can you imagine ze impact it would have, mon cher, how it would change everything, causing global shifts of power and allegiances?"

Orion gaped at him with wide eyes, his mind spinning as he whispered, "I had no idea that they were planning on doing that-"

"Zey are," interrupted Sebastien sharply, "but only when zey're absolutely certain about ze candidate. When zey know zat ze candidate has all ze Hallows and zat he's powerful enough to zurvive the VA test; power, zat at present, you don't have becauze you haven't killed Grindelwald or ze Dark Lord. And if you're truly zincere in your wish to become ze Vindico, zen you must kill zem and you must gain ze spirits' support again, zince without zeir open proclamation, few would believe zat you're ze prophet."

Orion dazedly shook his head. "I don't understand you, Bastien. You tell me to run away from it, and that you don't want me to follow their plans to become a Necromancer, yet now you tell me that I have to regain their support?"

"I told you to ezcape, mon cher," said Sebastien quietly, his fingers releasing Orion's chin to caress Orion's nape, "if you weren't fully committed to become ze Vindico. Zen, you could do whatever you wished az long az you stayed away. But if you truly want to become ze Vindico, what I'm telling you is zat you'll need ze spirits and zat you'll need ze Aux. I might not agree wiz ze spirits' way of doing things, or ze way zey've manipulated you, but I admit zat without zeir show of support –which is meant to be impactful and spectacular, since zey will reveal zeir existence and disclose what zey have been attempting to create all zis time- zen dark wizarding kind will not follow you so eazily, and you'll encounter more opposition zan necessary. Not to mention, zat if ze spirits openly zupport you - if you become powerful enough to zurvive ze VA test- zen ze Aux will be able to become your Inner Circle, and we'll be able to help you and protect you." He pierced his light hazel eyes into Orion's, and said in a low voice, his fingers still carding through the back of Orion's head, "We'll be able to protect you from wizards who will want you dead because of ze threat you represent to zem. I'm not only speaking about powerful light wizards, mon cher, but also about other dark wizards, for instance, your Dark Lord-"

Orion jerked his head away from Sebastien's lulling caress, and he hissed sharply, "I won't need protection from him."

"Are you truly zat deluded?" snapped Sebastien with angry exasperation. "Do you really think zat Lord Voldemort will do nothing while you snatch away supporters, while you steal ze power base from him?" He inched his face to Orion's, and said harshly, "When you threaten his pozition as ze leader of ze Dark, he'll kill you without a thought!"

"There's much you don't know about him and me," said Orion, through gritted teeth. "I'm his-"

"His spouze?" snapped Sebastien, his eyes flashing with anger. "Zat will mean nothing to him!"

Orion mutely shook his head, since he couldn't tell him that he was Voldemort's horcrux, though he admitted that if Voldemort was furious enough –or madly insane enough when confronted with the possibility of losing supporters and his leadership- then that wouldn't matter much to the wizard either...

Feeling the start of a pounding headache, he fiercely rubbed his forehead.

"He'll kill you," said Sebastien quietly, "and for even more reazon if ze spirits hail you as ze prophet. Zat's why I, and ze rest of ze Aux, insist zat you must kill him first, as zoon as pozzible-"

"I can deal with him," interrupted Orion, dropping his hands away from his face as he glared at the French wizard. "I don't need the Aux's protection from him, because IF he makes a move against me, then I'll be perfectly able to defend myself."

"Oui, to defend yourzelf," snapped Sebastien with irritation, "but will you be able to kill him? You haven't done anyzing contemplating zat pozzibility; you haven't destroyed any of his horcruxez-"

"I see," hissed Orion incensed, narrowing his eyes at him, "that the spirits have told you much."

Sebastien waved a hand dismissively. "Zey recently informed Komorov about the horcruxez, and he told me." He pierced him with his light hazel eyes, and added sharply, "Zey told us because zey doubt zat you're strong enough to destroy ze artifacts yourzelf; and I'm not talking about magical strength, I'm talking about guts."

"Listen to me, Bastien," bit out Orion angrily, clutching the wizard's collar, "if one of you dares to destroy one of his horcruxes, I'll make you pay, you hear? His soul is fractioned and split into bits, but it's still complete and I won't have you destroy it!"

"Non, zat will be your job," said Sebastien sharply, "I'm only here to remind you of it, and to tell you zat ze Aux will resort to dezperate meazures if you don't act. If you don't start destroying horcruxez, zen, eventually, we'll do it. Though, of courze, we'll leave ze last one –Him- to you, zince it's you who has ze capacity of abzorbing his dark magic once you kill him."

Orion's jaw clenched with fury, and he said through gritted teeth, while he tightened his grasp on the wizard, "You tell the Aux not to meddle with his horcruxes, Bastien. By Merlin that I'll kill any of you who destroys one-"

"Zere's no need of zat," cut in Sebastien, "if you start gathering and destroying zem-"

"Oh, I'll gather them, alright," snapped Orion angrily, "just to make sure that you and the Aux keep your claws away from them. I'm not kidding about this, Bastien. I don't care how 'desperate' the Aux become while I do things my own way, while I become the VA in the manner I see fit, because in the meantime, I'll strike back if you threaten him, and that obviously includes threatening to destroy pieces of his soul!"

Sebastien drew up to his full height, wrenching away from Orion's grasp, and said quietly, his face holding a hint of regret, "You're a fool, mon cher. Zis iz exactly why I told you to never bond wiz him, becauze I knew zat you wouldn't kill him if you became his spouze, becauze I knew zat you would zuffer when confronted wiz ze reality zat ze only way you'll zucceed is if you kill him. But you wouldn't listen-"

"I listened and I disagreed," snapped Orion crisply, eyeing him with hint of contempt mingled with pained disappointment. "What's happened to you, Bastien? I liked you much better when you were just one more Aux, and not Komorov's right hand. You've changed."

"I haven't changed," said Sebastien quietly, his expression marginally softening as he gazed back at him. "I'm ztill trying to help you. I'm ztill trying to make you zee what'z best for you."

"Yes, perhaps you think you're helping me," said Orion grimly, "but my point is that you weren't this ruthless before. Before, you would have understood me better. And I don't need a friend who simply wants to push me into murdering my spouse. I need a friend who helps me do things the way I want, not the way others dictate. Because I'm through with that; I'm through with allowing others, like the spirits, to manipulate me as if I were their puppet. Now, I'm doing things my own way, and it might be harder and it might take me longer, but at least I'll know that I will have tried my best to spare killing someone I care for."

Sebastien's jaw clenched, and he snapped with angered frustration, "You're making zings harder, and endangering yourzelf in the procezz, just to spare zomeone who would kill you if he knew what you can become!"

"Do you think that I'm not aware of that possibility!" spat Orion incensed. "I know how he is, I know that he could become so insanely infuriated that he would kill me, thinking he wouldn't regret it afterwards, but he would. He would regret it; it would pain and crush him when he realized-"

"Zat, if it's to be believed," snarled Sebastien, fiercely clutching Orion's chin, bringing him close, "doezn't change ze fact zat he would kill you first and regret it later, when it's uzeless to do so!"

"I know that, I'm not a deluded idiot!" snapped Orion heatedly. "But I want to give him a chance, because he deserves it and no one has ever given him a chance before! Everyone has always prejudged him, acting according to their own perceptions of him, and they have ruined him! And it's not fair. He deserves a chance to prove how he would act, before I move against him just to follow your preconceived notions of what his reaction will be. You, the Aux, the spirits, and Grindelwald, all of you believe that he would kill me, but I won't act against him until he's proven that he's capable of truly hurting me in a serious way, now that we're spouses and that he knows that I want to be with him!"

Sebastien's angry heaves of breath slowed down, and he gently released Orion's chin, saying quietly as he intently bore his eyes into Orion's, "Fine, you win, mon cher; give your spouze a chanze. But, at least, gather ze horcruxez, just to be prepared."

"I'll gather them if they come my way," said Orion, in between haggard pants as he cooled down, "but I won't actively seek them, because I have no time to spare on another task." He pierced the French wizard with a hard gaze, and added sharply, "I won't destroy any horcruxes in my power, either. They'll simply be a security net. And I want your Wizard's Oath that the Aux won't seek to destroy his horcruxes."

"I can't give you a Wizard's Oath," said Sebastien, shaking his head, "but I'll inform you if, or when, ze Aux decide to take zat courze of action."

"Bastien-"

"I can offer you nothing better, in zat regard," interjected Sebastien, intently gazing back at him.

"Fine, whatever," grumbled Orion, glaring at him.

Sebastien deeply sighed, before he swiftly seized Orion's arm, pulling him back to the chaise lounge.

"I won't stay," said Orion stiffly, attempting to jerk his arm free as he stood away. "I must get back to-"

"Pleaze, stay a bit longer," said Sebastien, insistently pulling him down as he sat down, "I don't want us to part when we're still angry at each other. I didn't want it to go zis way; it hadn't been my intention to quarrel."

Due to the wizard's persistent grasp, Orion momentarily lost his balance and ended plopping down beside him, rubbing his forehead as his headache came back with full force.

"You've inextricably entangled and complicated everyzing," said Sebastien, smirking at him, "you know, wiz your stubbornnezz of doing zings your own way."

"Can you blame me for wanting to be free from everyone's clutches?" shot back Orion, side-glancing at him, still rubbing his forehead.

"I guezz not," said Sebastien nonchalantly, before he devilishly smirked at him. "You have a headache, I zee. I could help you wiz zat; I've been told zat I'm deliciously superb at giving mazzages."

Orion dropped his hands away from his forehead and pressed back on the chaise lounge, eyeing the wizard as he said coolly, "I wonder how many masks you wear around me, Bastien. Is this the true you or are you just playing a part for me?"

Briefly, a flash of hurt crossed the wizard's light hazel eyes before it quickly disappeared, and Sebastien said sharply, "I have no need to be other than myzelf around you. I've always treated you wiz complete honesty, ze problem iz zat sometimes you don't like what I have to zay. And if it's so torturouz for you, you can leave, and I'll never bother to help you again."

"No, I think I'll stay for a while," said Orion impassively, stretching and relaxing on the chaise lounge, though that did little to mollify his headache or to help him figure out the French wizard. He shot him a small smile. "Would you play for me, Bastien?"

Sebastien arched an eyebrow, before he smirked and stood up, swiftly approaching the grand ballroom piano.

"Cloze your eyes and listen to ze muzic, it might help eaze your headache," said the French wizard, shooting him a charming smile, as his long fingers started to skillfully strike the keys, a soft, romantic melody filling the vast room.

Orion nodded and obeyed, feeling exhausted after their argument and after having spent some previous hours in one of Grindelwald's grueling lessons. With his eyes closed, the music seemed to cocoon around him, lulling him into languid and comfortable relaxedness.

But he still couldn't get out of his mind the things Sebastien had said, and slowly, he stood up and approached the wizard, leaning on the piano as he observed him.

Sebastien had his eyes closed, with an expression of true, tranquil enjoyment and a small placid smile on his face, which made him look even more handsome and charming, while he was softly humming the melody his fingers were skillfully playing on the piano.

"You play beautifully," said Orion quietly as he observed him, suddenly feeling a warm fondness for the wizard.

The French wizard hummed, keeping his eyes closed as he enjoyed the music he was producing, and experimentally, with curiosity, Orion brought his fingers to the wizard's nape and started to slowly trail them over the wizard's VA mark, feeling a thrum of magic when he made contact.

Sebastian felt… his… as if he had some claim to him. It was what he had felt towards Roman Komorov, when he had touched the wizard's mark, only stronger and more intense, probably because he liked Sebastien more and because he knew the French wizard better.

He felt Sebastien shiver under his touch, and Orion allowed a bit of his magic to pleasantly rush into the wizard's mark, while he got closer and asked quietly, "You truly wanted to help me, didn't you?"

"Yes, I wasn't zure if you wanted to become ze Vindico," said Sebastien, his voice a bit hitched, "so I wanted to give you an alternative – a way out. And I alzo wanted to make you zee zat you had to gather ze horcruxes - maybe just in case, as you zay; but it'z important zat you're prepared, nonetheless. I didn't know about zem before – I didn't know what a horcrux was or zat killing ze Dark Lord waz so complicated, so I wanted you to start acting."

"Were you angry because I became Voldemort's spouse when you had already offered me the same?"

"Angry? Non," replied Sebastien, "but I waz deeply dizappointed – hurt, even."

Orion narrowed his eyes, but kept his voice soft and pleasant, as he infused Sebastien's mark with some more of his magic, feeling him shiver again under his caress. "Tell me, did you contemplate the possibility that I could become your spouse if I killed Voldemort? Is that another reason why you favor so much the idea of me killing him?"

Sebastien cracked open his hazel eyes, stared at him, and said straightforwardly, "Yes."

Orion's lips tightened but he nodded in acceptance; Sebastien had attended Beauxbatons, but he knew that the wizard was dark and sly, he wasn't dealing with a Hufflepuff, after all.

He kept caressing the wizard's nape, with soft, lulling motions, and said quietly, "How many Aux know about Voldemort's horcruxes?"

"Only Roman and me," replied Sebastien, who continued relaxedly playing the piano, now his eyes closed again in deep contentment.

Orion inwardly sighed with relief; the fewer who knew the better.

He kept caressing the wizard's nape, and said quietly, "Do you know if the spirits are influencing some of my friends? Draco Malfoy or…" His eyes narrowed when he was struck by a possibility. "Or Calypso Rosier, perhaps?"

"Non, I don't know," said Sebastien, his voice breathless as Orion continued to pour a bit more of his magic, "but I don't think zey would compel ze Rosier girl, she iz Romulus' daughter and he's one of uz. As for Draco Malfoy… I know zat ze spirits think zat it's not necezzary to compel him. He already…" He cleared his throat, and cracked open his eyes to look at him. "He's already in lo-"

"Yes, I know," interrupted Orion, a slight frown on his face. "But in the same way that you thought that I could become your spouse if I killed Voldemort, the spirits might be planning that I could become Draco's spouse. I know that they want to bring us together in order to produce a powerful heir-"

Sebastien snorted snidely. "Draco Malfoy might carry powerful blood, but he'z not fit to be your partner. He doezn't have what it takes, ezpecially if you become ze Vindico."

"And you do?" said Orion, narrowing his eyes at him. "Or do you simply want me to dispose of Voldemort and become your spouse because of the influence you'll gain?"

"Both," said Sebastien calmly. "I like you, I find you immenzely attractive, and I certainly think zat a match between the Black and Valois Houzes iz highly convenient, but I alzo know zat I'm strong enough to be ze Vindico's partner. I wouldn't crumble under prezzure, as Malfoy would, I could help you accomplish your aims, I would zupport you, and I wouldn't envy or hate you due to your pozition and power, as ze Dark Lord would-"

"Yes, but you forget that the Vindico isn't supposed to have an equal, he isn't supposed to have love," said Orion, frowning at him. "Grindelwald told me-"

"He'z right," interjected Sebastien, "but I'm not talking about being equal to you or about being your loved one, I'm talking about being your partner, clozer to you zan any other follower but without ze restraints of being emotionally involved. Not because I wouldn't want zat, I would, but if you become ze Vindico, you wouldn't be able to feel it; not strong attachments at least, az far az I know. But even knowing zis, I would still want to be your partner."

"Yet, the spirits and Grindelwald think that Draco should be the one," mused Orion aloud. "I sometimes wonder why. He has the blood, certainly, but as you say, he isn't strong enough. He has been too protected by Lucius and Narcissa. But I see why the spirits would consider him a worthy choice, since Draco is being forced to become tougher now that Lucius isn't around. He's being forced to manage on his own, and with a difficult task as well…"

He shook his head, and said crisply, "Yes, I understand why you're still offering to become my partner, and I understand why Grindelwald thinks Draco is appropriate, but none of you truly know me if you believe that I would kill my own spouse and then get another one – that's disgustingly insidious. Regardless, I am not going to kill Voldemort; he's what I want, and he certainly has all the attributes required to be the Vindico's partner – he's powerful, fierce and ruthless, certainly strong enough to bear it all."

"Oui," said Sebastien calmly, "but ze issue is zat you're supposed to kill him to become powerful enough to zurvive the VA test. Even if you want to disregard zat, bear in mind zat he doesn't share power. Now, he's ze Dark Lord, and you're ze Dark Lord's spouze, zecond to him in everyone's eyes. But if you become ze Vindico, he'll be ze one dizplaced, and he won't be able to tolerate zat; he'll zee you az a threat to his standing, he'll kill you-"

"If I become the Vindico, he'll adapt to the new circumstances," said Orion, waving a hand dismissively, removing his fingers from the wizard's nape and breaking the connection between his magic and the wizard's mark.

For a moment, Sebastien frowned, before he jumped to his feet, glaring at Orion while he briefly touched his own nape. "What were you doing to me?"

"What did you feel?" said Orion, smirking at him.

"I waz relaxed," replied Sebastien, his eyes narrowing. "It felt warm, pleazant, enticing… lulling."

Orion's smirk widened as he gazed at his fingers with a hint of wonder. "Ah, yes, it's peculiar that I can easily give my magic the feeling I want it to have when I'm touching an Aux's mark, since it's so difficult for me to manipulate my unique dark magic when I want to direct it outwards in a duel." He gazed up at the French wizard and smirked smugly. "If I can use your marks so easily, I guess it means that I'm a bloody good VA candidate."

"You uzed it," snapped Sebastien angrily, "to manipulate me."

Orion arched an eyebrow, utterly unfazed. "I used it to make you more willing to answer my questions with complete honesty. I didn't manipulate you, I just made you feel my magic; I made you feel welcomed and relaxed." He smirked and inched his face close to his. "You became an Aux because you wanted to. You knew that there was a possibility that someday a Vindico would arise. Bear in mind that if I become the VA you'll be mine, so I don't see how this can bother you. I'll certainly use it often – both to give pleasure and pain, I think."

"I'll be yourz?" said Sebastien, arching an eyebrow, before a wicked smirk crept on his lips. "In what capacity will you have me, mon cher?"

Orion snorted. "You and the other Aux will be mine, my followers, Bastien. I'm not aiming to have a harem, thank you very much."

"Well, I don't want you to have a harem either," scoffed Sebastien, before he rubbed his nape again and gazed back at him with a small frown of wonder. "You weren't able to do zis when we stayed in my Villa – you're becoming more powerful already."

"It's Grindelwald's lessons," mused Orion. "I never had to practice the use of my dark magic as constantly as I'm doing now; I think that's why I'm getting stronger."

"Oui, I've heard zat he's wiz you," said Sebastien, smirking at him. "I'm zorry zat I mizzed ze attack on Nurmengard. We were all surprised when ze spirits told us zat you had executed it."

"Me and some friends," said Orion grimly.

"And Dietrich Emmerich."

Orion's eyes snapped to his, and he demanded, "How do you know that he participated in the attack?"

"Pleaze," replied Sebastien, waving a hand, "who elze would have been involved in zuch madnezz? And from whom elze would you have gathered ze information about ze prison's wards? All ze Dark Allies believe zat it waz Dietrich's scheme, and zat he convinced zome of his nutty, old pals to do it. After all, Dietrich never appeared after ze attack on Nurmengard and ze Dark Allies know zat ze Dark Lord had nothing to do wiz it –he was quite mad and he interrogated uz during one of ze Dark Allies meetings to know if zomeone had been involved- so ze Dark Allies think zat Dietrich died during ze attack and zat it waz all his idea."

"Um, that's good news for me, if no one is looking for other suspects," said Orion sighing. He glanced at the French wizard with a small frown on his face. "There's something which isn't clear to me. You said before that I would encounter opposition, from both light and dark wizards, as I came closer to my aim-"

"Oui," interrupted Sebastien, nodding at him, "but dark wizards will rally to you if ze spirits decide to openly show themzelves and zupport you, hailing you as ze-"

"Yeah, I understood that," interjected Orion quietly, "but I'm doing everything covertly, no one except the Aux, the spirits, and Grindelwald know that I'm gathering the Hallows and that I'm aiming to become the Vindico – and I want to keep it that way until I succeed. So why would light wizards oppose me when they still believe that I'm their good, obedient Boy-Who-Lived? I'm not going to declare my true allegiance to the Dark in the open, and Dumbledore can suspect, but I'm still regarded as the Savior of the Light, so I don't see why they would oppose me before I became the Vindico and came out to the open. I truly don't see those dangers that you were talking about-"

"Mon cher," said Sebastien, looking at him in surprise, "even if you try to pass unnoticed az a light wizard, zey will feel ze dark magic in you zoon enough. And when zey do, zey will feel threatened; zey won't know what you are – a Vindico candidate- but zey will sense ze intensity of your dark magic. At zat point, no matter what you try, zey will know what zey are up against, and powerful light wizards will zeek to bring you down, becauze you'll be a threat."

Orion deeply frowned at him. "What do you mean that they'll 'feel' and 'sense'?"

"It's quite zimple," said Sebastien, smirking at him. "If you keep developing your dark magic, zere will be a point in which no matter how much you restrain it inzide you, it will be too strong to cloak it." He arched an eyebrow, and added, "I mean, you have been cloaking it zo far, haven't you?"

"Yes, of course," said Orion, staring at him pensively. "I started doing it a few years back, when Calypso told me that she could feel that I had become more powerful. I thought it wise to cloak it, since I didn't want others feeling it. But that's my point, you can cloak your magic so that no one feels it-"

"Can you?" interjected Sebastien, arching an eyebrow. "Surely, the majority of wizards don't need to, because their magic izn't powerful enough to overflow out from zeir magical cores, but think about ze truly powerful wizards and witches. Those who have zat level of magical intenzity can't fully restrain it. Others will feel and recognize zat power. Think about Dumbledoor and ze Dark Lord."

"But I always thought that they didn't cloak their magic on purpose," said Orion, gazing at him with wide eyes. "You can feel it in Dumbledore, his light magic calmly surrounding him, and he sometimes sends it out soothingly, when he has to tranquilize students and address them. And I felt his light magic becoming thunderous when he battled Voldemort. But I thought that he was purposely unfettering it for others to sense. And on Voldemort, you can feel his dark magic wrapping and pulsing around him with vibrating intensity, and it becomes fierce and violent when he's dueling, but I also thought that he did it on purpose, to intimidate his enemies, and to entice other dark wizards and witches. And you can also feel Grindelwald's dark magic-"

"Oui, exactly," interrupted Sebastien, smirking at him, "everyone can feel Dumbledoor's, Voldemort's and Grindelwald's magic because it's uncommonly and astoundingly powerful. Oh, I agree zat all zese wizards gladly allow zeir magic to be sensed by others, but my point is zat even if zey tried to cloak it, zey wouldn't be able to; not all of it."

"So you're telling me," said Orion slowly, frowning at him, "that if I keep becoming stronger as I continue to exercise and develop my dark magic, there will come a point in which I won't be able to cloak it and others will sense it, and thus feel that it's dark magic?"

"Precizely," replied Sebastien, widely smirking at him. "And I dare zay zat it will happen to you zoon. You're trying to cloak all of it now, yet I can feel it around you, probably becauze of my mark and ze way it reacts to you. But zoon, you'll zee others reacting to ze power you hold, and zen you'll know zat zey are sensing it. And you'll feel it az well, when you're unable to stop your dark magic from pulzing around you, az it happens to Voldemort and Grindelwald."

"Well, that explains a lot," said Orion, deeply sighing as he rubbed his forehead.

He wasn't disappointed to know that he wasn't powerful enough for others to easily sense it in him, since he had long discovered that he wasn't as powerful as Grindelwald during his lessons with the old wizard.

Nowadays, he managed to inflict some nasty dark curses on his mentor but he hadn't defeated the old wizard, not even once. And he had realized then that Voldemort had never used his full powers when dueling with him; and the man had attempted to kill him in two circumstances.

He had been quite miffed when realizing that Voldemort hadn't considered him powerful and threatening enough for the wizard to use his full power. And when he had mentioned it to Grindelwald, the annoying wizard had laughed at him, saying: 'Mein junge, why would he show a lesser opponent how powerful he really is? Why would a basilisk take the trouble of displaying its magnificence to a mouse, when it can easily devour it?'

And Orion had been forced to admit that Voldemort had never dueled with him with the show of power and magical skills that the wizard had used when dueling with Dumbledore in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

In his duels with Voldemort, they had exchanged dark curses and Unforgivables, but that was it; the wizard hadn't deemed it necessary to pull out all his repertoire of magical abilities.

Realizing that he still had a stretch of a way to go to surpass wizards such as Voldemort, Dumbledore and Grindelwald, only made him more determined to apply himself with renewed fervor in his lesson with Grindelwald.

But he also knew that he wasn't that far behind because he felt his dark magic exponentially growing in him, and by the fast rate in which he was progressing in his lessons, he knew that people would soon start to feel his power when he was around them.

The issue was that, when it happened, he wouldn't be able to run around under the pretense of being the Boy-Who-Lived, since at some point others will feel that he was uncommonly powerful and that he wielded dark magic.

Oh, light wizards knew that he was a Black and that he carried dark blood in his veins, and therefore, that dark magic was the natural kind of magic which came to him, but they also believed that he had forsaken it. But when light wizards felt the strength of his dark magic, they would know that he had developed it, that he was indeed using it, and therefore, that he was utterly dark.

On one hand, he was glad because he had become tired of acting as the Savior of the Light, and he was looking forward to showing his true colors. But on the other hand, as Sebastien had told him, it would complicate matters for him because he would have light wizards opposing him, and dark wizards trying to undermine him, whilst he was busy with attaining his aims.

He saw now why Sebastien thought that the spirits' support would be useful in the future to cement his leadership, but he absolutely didn't want to go back into the spirits' clutches.

He would have to think a way in which to deal with them to gain their open support, and then kill them – because he wasn't relinquishing that.

"You look tired, mon cher. You could spend ze night here," said Sebastien silkily, devilishly smiling at him, "in my luxuriouz bed."

Orion's eyes snapped to his, and he snorted. "What – are you looking for more petting?"

"Caresses aren't ze only thing I have in mind," said Sebastien, his smile broadening wickedly.

"I'm tempted," said Orion with an amused snigger, "but I have to get back to Durmstrang. Thanks for trying to help me, Bastien. I'm glad to know that even if you're an Aux, you're still on my side."

"I am," said Sebastien, eyeing him carefully, "but I'm also taking my duties as an Aux zeriously." He took a step closer to Orion, and said in a low, urgent voice, "Many things are changing, mon cher, you must be prepared. Ze plans for ze continental war are stepping up, ze Dark Allies have almost finished setting up everything in zeir countries, and ze Dark Lord will soon strike in England. It's a shame zat you aren't coming to ze Dark Allies meetings, zince you're missing much."

Orion gazed up at him. "I wish I could but there's no way that I can leave Hogwarts without Dumbledore noticing, and during the weekends I have no time left to attend meetings. But I will start doing it once I'm finished with a few things I must do first." He brought his face close to Sebastien's, and whispered, "When is it going to happen? When will the Dark Allies act?"

"In a few more months," replied Sebastien. "You still have time zince it has been agreed zat ze Dark Lord must first gain control of England, and zen we'll proceed to strike in continental Europe."

Orion heavily inhaled, while he raked his fingers through his hair. "Voldemort wants Dumbledore dead first, before gaining control of the English Ministry of Magic, doesn't he?"

"Oui," said Sebastien, regarding him closely, "he's told ze Dark Allies zat zere's a plan underway to kill Dumbledoor, though he refused to tell us much elze. It's agreed zat once Dumbledore is disposed of, ze Dark Lord will lead his Death Eaters to gain control of ze English Miniztry, 'Ogwarts, St. Mungo's, and ze Wizengamot. Once wizarding England is firmly in his grip, ze Dark Allies will start moving in zeir respective countries. Ruzzia and Germany will be controlled first, and zen we would move to strike Franze, Spain, and Italy. Once those predominantly light countries are under our regime, we'll move against ze rest of Europe."

Orion gazed at him frantically, his voice hitched. "And this will start happening in a few months? It's too soon! I'm not ready. I wanted to become the Vindico before the continental war started-"

"Yes," interrupted Sebastien sternly, "ze Aux and ze spirits also want you to try to become ze Vindico before ze continental war starts. A war of this magnitude has been attempted before, and we all know zat Grindelwald failed and that countless dark wizards were killed because of it, not to mention the backlash of repression against Houses of dark bloodlines. We're aware zat ze chances of our coup succeeding are marginal if you don't step up in your plan of becoming ze Vindico. Zat's why I told you zat you must kill Grindelwald and Voldemort as zoon as pozzible-"

"You think we'll fail?" interrupted Orion, fretfully biting his lower lip. "You think that the Dark Lord and the Dark Allies will be defeated if I don't become the VA soon enough? But why? The Dark Allies have been planning the war ever since Voldemort came back, and Voldemort himself is confident that this time he'll win-"

"Ze Dark Lord is confident zat he'll win in England," interjected Sebastien quietly, "and ze Dark Allies think we have good chanzes of conquering Europe afterwards, but ze truth is zat ze Light are readying themzelves as much as we are. Dumbledoor has been very buzy zince ze Dark Lord came back, and we know zat Dumbledoor has already gained many zupporters in Franze, Spain, and Italy. He has my old Headmistrezz –Madame Maxime- helping him to recruit French wizards, and he's courting zeveral creatures for his cauze. Ze truth is zat we might have a chance of winning, but ze wars will be very prolonged, and under thoze circumstances zere's no way of forezeeing if ze Dark will be ze victor, and even if it is, many dark wizards will die in battle and bloodlines would be lost. But if you became ze Vindico on time, zen ze undecided dark wizards would follow you, and all ze Dark would be united under you, more strongly zat it could be under ze Dark Lord, therefore our armies would be larger and victory would be swifter. Not to mention zat you have ze Zraven vampires and ze English werewolves as your allies-"

"Yes," said Orion distressfully, "but it's too soon, Bastien! Remus and his packs will help the Dark Allies, since he's already part of them and the Dark Allies agreed to his terms, but I haven't seen Remus in a very long time and I know that he won't get involved unless I'm there. I convinced him to support the Dark because I told him that I would make sure that Voldemort fulfilled the terms of the alliance. I can do that but not until I'm done with all the other stuff I have in my hands. Moreover, I must regain the support of the Zravens because we had a pretty nasty quarrel, and I'm not going to see them until summer! And I'm still training with Grindelwald, I still have to kill Dumbledore and acquire the last Hallow, and I still have to get my father back before I try to become the VA, so how on Earth am I going to do all that in just a few months?!"

Sebastien placed a hand on his shoulder, and said quietly, shooting him a small smile, "Don't stress yourzelf, mon cher. I told you all this so zat you realized zat time is running short, nevertheless, you can still do all zat if you plan it carefully. I eztimate zat you have one year, because ze Dark Lord is planning to start taking hold of wizarding England zis summer, zen it will take him a few more months to establish his rule and to make certain zat England is under his control. Only zen will ze Dark Allies strike in other countries, starting to take hold of Ruzzia and Germany first, from within, before our armies are launched upon the rest of continental Europe. Zerefore, you have a year and zome months, before ze war in Europe erupts."

"A year and some months… I thought I had more time," muttered Orion slowly, breathing deeply while he fiercely rubbed his forehead. He gazed up at Sebastien, nodding curtly. "Alright, I'll do my best."

Sebastien tightened his grasp on Orion's shoulder, and he said sternly, "Good, but remember zat you must also gather ze horcruxez-"

"Oh, bother the horcruxes!" snapped Orion impatiently. "I don't have time for that on top of everything else-"

"I thought," said Sebastien sharply, his exasperation evident, "zat we agreed zat it was necezzary, in case killing ze Dark Lord becomes ze only alternative left for you."

Orion narrowed his eyes at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "The spirits and the Aux don't know what all of his horcruxes are, do they? That's why you're pushing me to do it, even if you claim that the Aux would do it themselves if I don't." He clenched his jaw, and gritted out, "Oh, I know that the spirits are aware of how many horcruxes he made, after all, they made an Aux implant that compulsion on Voldemort when he was young. But I bet that the spirits lost control of him when he became older and more powerful, therefore, they might not know which objects he used to make the rest of his horcruxes. Am I right?"

"You are," replied Sebastien nonchalantly, waving a hand dismissively. "We know how many he made but we aren't zure where or what zey are. Nevertheless, I'm certain zat we could discover it if we're forced to hunt ze horcruxes ourselves, if you don't." He shot him a pointed glance. "So, will you do it?"

"I will for the reasons I gave you before," said Orion crisply, "to protect the horcruxes from the Aux, and to have them, just in case. But that task is not on the top of my list of priorities. As you said, I have a year and some months, I'll worry about it later."

"Very well," said Sebastien pleasantly, shooting him a smile, "as long as you do it, I zee no reazon to prezzure you further about ze matter."

"Good," said Orion stiffly. "Now, I have to go, I have much to think about and plan for."

Sebastien sighed, before he patted him on the shoulder, charmingly smiling at him. "Come, come, let'z part amicably, mon cher. Remember zat my purpoze is to help you. I'm ze Aux's zecond in command, but I'm alzo your friend. I'm zure zat you realize zat I've disclosed all this to you acting against ze spirits' orders. Indeed, if zey ever found out, zey would have my head."

"Yeah, I know," said Orion with a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead. He gazed up at him, and shot him a tentative warm smile. "And I do appreciate it, Bastien. Thanks."

Sebastien nodded, before his lips curved into a suggestive, devilish smile. "Are you zure zat you don't want to spend ze night here, with me? I could help you relieve zome of your stress, mon cher."

"By Merlin," said Orion chuckling, shaking his head with amusement, "wedding vows mean nothing to you, do they?"

Sebastien snorted, before he shot him a wicked smirk. "I'm a French dark wizard, mon cher, and we believe zat love making is an art to be enjoyed wizout ridiculouz moralistic restrictions." He brought his face close to Orion's ear, and breathed out in a silky purr, "I'm zure I could make you understand this and zat I could introduce you to a whole new world of zenzatory pleazures if you spend ze night with me, mon cher."

"Tempting," said Orion, smirking at him, "but I must decline. Voldemort gives me all the pleasure I desire."

"Pfft, ze Dark Lord can't hold a candle to me, I'm zure," said Sebastien, waving his hand dismissively. He devilishly smiled at him, adding, "Ze offer will still stand if you change your mind."

"Alright, I'll keep it in mind," said Orion, sniggering in amusement. He clapped his hand on the French wizard's shoulder, fondly smiling at him. "Take care, Bastien."

"You too, mon cher," said Sebastien, winking at him.

Orion nodded, shooting him another smile, before he turned on his heel and made way towards the entrance, his mind busily working on the next steps he was planning on taking.

As he wrapped his cloak around him and left Pierrefond Castle in order to portkey back to Bornholm Island with the use of the bracelet, he decided that it was time to finally give it a shot.

He had studied Cadmus' journal to exhaustion, he had already formed a plan to confront and defeat Cadmus to release his father's soul, and he was getting better and better in casting the Necromantic spells detailed in Cadmus' journal, so he knew that in a month or so he would be ready to take out Voldemort's piece of soul from the Resurrection Stone.

And immediately after that, he would go to the Guild and use one of their Necromancer's Gate to finally kill Cadmus and resurrect his father.

That would be his next step.


	5. The Breakthrough

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 5**

The next months flew by for Orion while incipient summer settled around him and the year moved into May.

While he applied himself with urgent, renewed fervor in his lessons with Grindelwald and in his study of Cadmus' journal, he breezed through his classes at Hogwarts and Durmstrang with the attention span of a gnat.

At Durmstrang, everything was much the same, he briefly spend some idle time with his friends, mostly with Kara and Evander since Calypso was making herself more scarce than usual, while Viktor and Titania sometimes dropped in the sixth year's common room to be with them; holding hands, Viktor looking extremely smug and happy, Titania fondly rolling her eyes at his antics and sometimes shooting Orion measuring glances holding a hint of thrilled expectation.

Titania hadn't approached him to discuss his estrangement from the spirits, and even if she wanted, Orion knew that the secrecy vow she had taken as an Aux wouldn't allow her to speak openly, since she wasn't as high up in the Aux's ranks as Sebastien was. But he knew what she was waiting for, since he was certain that all the Aux had been informed that he was training with Grindelwald. They were all waiting for him to step up in his plans of attempting to become the Vindico.

Regardless, even though she was an Aux, he still considered her a friend, and more importantly, she was his right hand in the Elite, now that Calypso didn't attend the DA's training sessions. When they held battle simulations, he always put her in charge of the opposing side while he led his own group of fighters, and he had come to trust her as a competent leader and an efficient, powerful follower, who obeyed his instructions yet always expressed her own opinion if she disagreed with him.

Orion was becoming increasingly proud of the Elite and their abilities, and also of the rest of the DA, seeing that some were starting to reconsider their choices in the war. All the members of the Dark Army were dark purebloods with relatives or parents who were Death Eaters or supporters of Voldemort, and they knew that a war would soon break out in the wizarding world.

As initially intended when founding the DA, the members were training to become skillful fighters, readying themselves for the war, but also to have an alternative other than becoming Death Eaters to participate in the war. They would soon have to decide if they would take the Dark Mark or if they would become his followers, since they all knew by know that he was Voldemort's spouse, part of the Dark Allies, and that he had his own group of supporters, such as the English werewolves and the Zravens.

Many DA members had already approached him to discuss their options, like the Elite had done time ago, wanting to see what they would gain if they supported him and not the Dark Lord.

Orion had admitted to them that he wanted to have his own followers, to fight alongside Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the Dark Allies, independent from them but also part of the Dark side. And he had set up several meetings with the interested DA members, offering them what he had offered the Elite.

Moreover, he had revealed to them that some of their DA comrades had already pledged their allegiance to him, telling them about the Elite and which DA members conformed it, and that those interested in forming part of the Elite would be first evaluated and tested by the rest of the Elite, and then welcomed if they wanted to become his supporters.

From the sixty two students who now formed part of the DA, half of them had already told him that they were interested in becoming his followers, most aspiring to be accepted in the Elite, while the other half were still carefully weighing their options.

Nevertheless, Orion had no intention to push them and he had gladly expressed that they had all the time they wanted to make a choice between becoming a Death Eater or his follower, since he wouldn't be acting yet.

All in all, however busy he was with his own plans, he was satisfied about the way things were going in Durmstrang; with the exception of Calypso's increasingly introverted behavior, but he was leaving her alone until she was ready to confide about what was troubling her.

In Hogwarts, however, he had started to act indifferently towards his 'friends' and acquaintances, with the exception, of course, of Luna.

At first, Hermione had kept approaching him, insisting that he had to fix things with Ron, but after he had resolutely and sharply told her that he wouldn't do such thing, she had dropped the matter. Nevertheless, even though she was now friends with Ron, she attempted to divide her time between the two of them, though he usually made himself scarce since he was always busy with his own studies of Cadmus' journal and the scheming of his plans.

Nowadays, he spend some time with her while they did homework in the library, Luna accompanying them, but he no longer felt at ease with her, since Hermione had started to steal glances at him, her expression pensively troubled and shrewd, as if she were trying to unravel something, like a hound sniffing the air for some track or clue.

Ron, obviously, was no longer his friend, and the red-headed boy would glare at him, fist his hands, and stomp away every time they saw each other.

Lavander kept acting as if he didn't exist, most times whispering with a bunch of girls and snidely giggling whenever he was present, other times flicking her hair at him and haughtily turning her back to him.

But none of it bothered him, since he was concentrated in his own goals and had finally completed several tasks. He had finished translating Slytherin's research journals from parselscripture to English, writing it into the thick tome he was planning on giving to Snape as soon as possible, he was progressing astoundingly quickly in his lessons with his mentor, and he had plotted in excruciating detail how to free the Resurrection Stone, how to kill Cadmus and how to rescue his father's soul in the process.

Moreover, he had asked Loki to take him to the Guild on three circumstances, and as agreed in their pact, the Necromancers had taught him how to communicate with a Dementor.

Necro Master Vresi had taken upon her that task and Orion had spend with her countless hours in a dark chamber of the Guild's third level, while time passed by quicker for them than for the rest of the world, allowing him to stay in the Guild for several days while just a few hours crept by for the outside world.

He wasn't allowed to see much of the Guild, he was always quickly taken to a third level chamber while passing countless locked doors thrumming with magic, while he heard distant howls, far away eerie voice, and sensed shapes lurking in the dark.

Learning how to communicate with a Dementor hadn't been pleasant or easy, and it was even more complicated since the Necromancers couldn't summon a Dementor in order to make him practice on the real thing, since his confrontation with Cadmus was meant to be a surprise attack and since the Guild remained neutral and supposedly ignorant of his plan.

Regardless, after three lessons of countless hours, Necro Master Vresi had deemed him ready. In simple terms, to communicate with a Dementor he had to use his skills in Legilimency and his Necromantic powers. Necro Master Vresi had simulated the mind of a Dementor as well as she could, and had made him practice on her.

Since a Dementor had no soul of its own, only those he captured and slowly consumed, the creature's mind was a havoc of messy, intelligible instincts. It was the instinct to hunger for souls which ruled a Dementor's behavior, since without a soul of its own, the creature didn't have awareness, not in the traditional sense, and therefore, it didn't have a clear process of thought but yearnings and incoherent strings of ideas; incoherent, at least, for humans.

But Orion had learned something he hadn't known before; however soulless a Dementor was, it still had some faint recollection of its previous life. And the more a Dementor fed - the more souls it had inside- the more 'aware' the creature became and the more it remembered.

Orion had realized that it was due to the partial 'awareness' that a Dementor gained when fed, that Cadmus had been 'aware' enough to know that he wanted to Kiss his father, taking revenge on Ursula Black by killing her descendants, like he had promised in his journal.

Thrilled, finally discovering a way in which he could kill Cadmus, Orion had persuaded the Guild to help the Dementor feed as much as it could on the souls in the spiritual plane which were ready to undergo the Ultimate Transcendence, since he wanted Cadmus to be as 'aware' as possible during their confrontation.

The Guild had agreed, mystified and curious about his request, but he hadn't disclosed his plan to them; it was risky, it had great chances of failing, and he knew that it would only work on Cadmus, but it was the best scheme he could come up with, and he counted on his understanding and empathy for the wizard to help him destroy the Dementor.

All in all, he was as ready as he could ever be, and he knew it; it was now or never. And the only thing he still needed was the Resurrection Stone, with its powers unrestrained and untainted by Voldemort's piece of soul.

And he was ready to unleash it as well, but not now, he would do it tomorrow, as planned, because at present he was running for dear life and he had to force himself to concentrate and disregard the pain he was in.

It was Sunday evening and the grounds of Potter Manor had never looked so beautiful. One could bask in the ambiance of dogwoods and redbuds and flowering peaches and plums**. **Like billowing sails, the pine trees, oaks and cedars waved their leaves through the breeze, spouting tiny flowers, seeds and twigs. Birds twittered happily, basking in the dusking sunlight, while squirrels skittered and deer grazed in the surrounding forest, some gently lapping water from the large pond.

But Orion didn't have time to contemplate such things; he kept running for dear life, his heart pounding wildly, his chest aching, his left arm throbbing with a deep slash which kept spurting blood, his twisted ankle sending shocks of pain through his leg, while his shredded and scorched robes flapped around him as he willed his legs to carry him faster.

A searing pain ripped through Orion as he was struck by another curse, and gnashing his teeth, he rolled to the ground, before he crouched and aimed his wand at the forest, "Arbulum ripto!"

A bunch of nearby trees were ripped from the soil, and with a knee sunk on the ground and a foot firmly in place to maintain his balance, he brought up his left hand, his fingers flexing as if grabbing something.

Swiftly, with the use of Occlumency, he reordered and compartmentalized his mind as Grindelwald had taught him, to be able to cast spells simultaneously with wand, nonverbal, and wandless magic.

Wandlessly, with his left palm, he directed the uprooted trees towards the advancing wizard, while he shot a nonverbal spell and aimed his wand at him, shouting, "Crucio!"

The trees flew across the expanse of terrain, brutally ramming against Grindelwald, knocking him to the ground, before Orion's nonverbal spell transformed the trees into a tight cage which trapped the old wizard inside, just as the Cruciatus Curse struck the old wizard's chest.

With a smirk of satisfaction, his wand aimed at his mentor, still subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, Orion slowly stood up, his body painfully aching as he smoothed his ragged robes with a hand.

Grindelwald was flailing and convulsing inside the cage, but the old man didn't let out a single scream, and even from the distance, Orion could see a gleeful smirk on his face; the old wizard was always sadistically giddy during their duels.

"This won't be enough, mein junge!" shouted Grindelwald, his voice pained but taunting nonetheless, as his limbs jerked and snapped against the ground. "We will end in another stalemate if you don't come up with something better!"

Orion nodded, tiredly carding fingers through his hair while he maintained the Cruciatus Cruse a bit longer, watching with intense satisfaction as his mentor writhed in pain – it was only fair after all the curses the old wizard had managed to inflict on him despite his best shields and counterattacks.

But the old man had a point; lately, after having fully mastered how to fight simultaneously with the three types of dueling tactics and after controlling his dark magic in elemental form, their endless duels had always finished in a stalemate, both of them too injured and exhausted to continue.

At present, both of them were already in pretty bad shape after five straight hours of dueling, where everything was permitted for him except the Killing Curse, though the old wizard did like to cast it once in a while, just to keep him on his toes.

Orion flicked his wand to end the Cruciatus Curse, and immediately bellowed inside his mind, 'Sectumsempra!'

But before the nonverbal dark spell struck to rip and slash the old wizard's chest, Grindelwald had wandlessly blown apart the cage, flicking his wand –the Phoenix wand Orion lend him for their lessons- and Orion was blasted away.

He flew through the air and painfully crashed against the hard ground, letting out a hiss of pain when his damaged ankle cracked. Swiftly, he stood up while he muttered a spell, conjuring bandages which tightly wrapped around his ankle, while he leaned all his weight on his uninjured leg.

He saw Grindewald standing up and quickly casting some healing spells on himself as well, and quickly, he aimed his wand at the old wizard and bellowed, "Cruor hervire!"

The blood boiling curse was swiftly blocked by the old man with a powerful shielding charm, and with a vicious smirk, Grindelwald crouched and pressed his palm on the ground.

Knowing what to expect, Orion groaned and made a dash for it as he felt the ground under his feet quake and grumble, before a great crack split open, forming an abyss. He jumped to a side, rolling and tumbling as the ground shook and spikes of earth and rock soared upwards.

Orion quickly cast a cushioning charm around his body as he rolled and crashed against the walls of rock that kept surging around him, while Grindelwald kept using his unique dark magic to manipulate the elements of the earth.

His head impacted against a hard mound of rock and soil, the earth still quaking and cracking under him, and dazedly, Orion allowed his Necromantic abilities to surge in him, aiming his wand at the chortling old wizard, and he bellowed, "Malsana maleficio!"

That shut up the old wizard's crows of sadistic enjoyment, and Orion saw Grindelwald grimacing as the wizard's leg started to quickly rot and decompose, the Necromantic curse killing every living cell of the flesh as it spread further and further along the leg, starting to creep towards the wizard's hip.

Grindelwald quickly wrapped his fingers on his hip, his face contorted in concentration and pain as he made the curse stop, though he couldn't reverse or heal the damage already done.

Eyeing the dead and blackened flesh, Orion sniggered smugly, though that was before Grindelwald shot him a nastily malevolent smirk, and suddenly, a rolling mass of earth swamped over Orion, suffocating him as his body bounced and crashed against rocks and stones, while a great wedged opened in the ground again, and Orion was flung into the abyss, still entrapped in the mass of earth.

He felt himself rapidly dropping into a free fall; he couldn't breathe, the pressure from the stones, rocks, and soil around him becoming excruciating as his lungs burned for air and as he kept impacting against the tight, hard mass.

Without a second thought, he transformed into Firebreath and batted his grand wings while he let out a surge of fire through his jaws. He kept batting his wings and flinging his limbs as he tried to break through the mass of earth, and finally he soared upwards as the earth kept falling into the abyss Grindelwald had created.

He flew upwards, shooting out from the great wedge in the ground, and as soon as he landed, he transformed back to himself and dissapparated.

With a 'crack', he apparated to stand behind Grindelwald, who was glancing around, his posture alert and ready, and Orion aimed and roared, "Lingua extracto!"

But before he managed to rip out the old wizard's tongue, Grindelwald had jumped to a side, the curse shooting past him, and bellowed, "Crucio!"

The curse struck Orion on the chest, and he crashed against the ground, his teeth gnashing and his jaw clenching to hold in his screams of pain as his body convulsed and his limbs snapped against the hard, cracked ground.

He didn't know for how long the old wizard was maintaining the curse, but the waves upon waves of burning, piercing, excruciating pain were mercilessly ravaging his body and he wouldn't withstand much more of it, since it was the third time that he had been subjected to it during the duel.

As he writhed in pain, Orion cracked open his eyes and saw that Grindelwald was calmly looking down at him, his hazel eyes alit with gleeful satisfaction and enjoyment though the wizard was also sporting a grimace of pain as he tried to shift his weight away from his deadened, blackened leg.

With supreme effort, pulling his mind away from the waves of pain, Orion summoned all the strength and dark magic he could muster and he slapped a palm on the ground, swiftly copying Grindelwald, making the earth under the wizard's feet shake and grumble.

When the wizard lost his footing, Orion swiftly stretched out a hand towards him, conjuring a swirling mass of black flames, shooting it outwards and making it encompass the old wizard.

The Cruciatus Curse stopped ravaging his body, and with deep, pained gasps of breath, Orion crouched on the ground as he observed the sphere of black fire tightening around Grindelwald, the wizard's robes catching in flames and his blond and gray locks of hair scorching.

While Orion tried to feebly stand up and recuperate from his wounds and the lingering pain surging through his body, Grindelwald shot a hand through his shrinking prison of fire, the black flames burning off the flesh of his wrist, but the old wizard seemed resolved to disregard the pain and the stench of burning flesh, and he directed his palm towards Orion.

Abruptly, Orion found himself trapped in a swirling mass of black water, the orb rising from the ground with him flailing and flapping his limbs inside, his lungs burning and filling with water.

Frantically gasping for air, he tried to swim towards the periphery of the swirling orb of water, to breathe and to keep shooting his dark magic outwards to maintain the walls of fire around Grindelwald; to enclose them around the old wizard to harm him enough to force him to stop directing his dark magic towards him, so that the sphere of water would disappear.

But Orion found that every time he swam towards the border of the orb, the water surrounding him swirled violently, throwing him to the center of the sphere in a vortex of spiraling waves.

His eyes stung, his lungs were fiercely burning while he frenziedly gasped for air and flapped his arms. He stopped focusing his dark magic to produce the walls of fire around Grindelwald and he tried to direct it to manipulate he water around him, but he found that he couldn't control it since it was formed by Grindelwald's unique dark magic, not his.

In the same way that his fire harmed Grindelwald, the old wizard's water was now drowning him. They were only unaffected by the manifestations of their own dark magic; even if it was the same kind of power, the other's dark magic hurt them.

Orion forced himself to relax and think clearly, and in the midst of violently swirling waves of black water, he aimed his wand at his face and conjured a bubble charm. He took a deep breath of air, his lungs and throat painfully throbbing, and he allowed his body to be violently swirled within the orb of water, while he slowly directed his palm towards Grindelwald.

Through the black mass of water, he could see the wizard looking up at the sphere, no longer encompassed in black flames, though the wizard looked like death warmed over.

The old wizard's hair was singed, his robes scorched and ragged, a hand with burned flesh peeling off, a blackened, dead leg which hung limply, his torso had several deep, bloody cuts, and his body was jerkily shuddering due to the several Crucios that Orion had managed to cast on him during the duration of their five-hour duel.

Yet, Grindelwald wasn't proclaiming that the duel was over, and he was the only one allowed to determine that.

Orion slowly moved his head inside his bubble, as he flapped his arms inside the sphere of water, trying to convey to Grindelwald that this was madness and that the only way this would end was in a stalemate and with both of them on the brink of death.

He was bruised and battered, with a broken ankle, a sprained arm, several damaged ribs, deep cuts and wounds, and his nerve-endings were still painfully snapping with the lingering pain of the Cruciatus. His body was more resilient and he healed much faster than Grindelwald thanks to his youth and to Lezander's blood, but nevertheless, there was so much that his body could withstand before his mind shut itself to make him fall into a magically healing coma.

Grindelwald merely shook his head, smirking at him as he flipped the hand which was directing the sphere of black water, and Orion found himself aggressively jostled inside it, the bubble of air surrounding his head popping in a cracking implosion, before his lungs were painfully filled with water.

With a snarl of fury, damning the stubborn old wizard, Orion tried to find a sense of direction as he was violently rolled inside the orb of water, and when he caught sight of a blurry Grindelwald, he shot his palm towards him and produced a tunnel of tempestuous black wind, directing his dark magic outwards.

Orion found himself rushing out of the mass of water, flying through the air midst a violent wind, and he quickly cast a powerful cushioning charm on himself, before he struck the hard ground and bounced several times on it, ending up sprawled in a jumble of aching limbs.

He heard a curse being bellowed and he snapped to attention, jumping to a side with a gasp of pain, swaying and about to drop on his knees from exhaustion.

Tired and feeling an increasing surge of simmering anger, he aimed his wand forward, not truly caring where, and hissed, "_Bassilisska flameo!_"

A grand, magnificent basilisk of flames and smoke rose several feet before them, its tail coiling and its sharp fangs smoldering, as it hissed threateningly, and Orion hissed crisply, "_Burn the old man until he passes out!_"

"Beautiful, mein junge!" said Grindelwald, cackling joyfully, hopping on his good leg while he grabbed the Phoenix wand with his uninjured left hand. "But parselspells won't be enough either. And today, I won't admit a stalemate between us. Today, you defeat me or we go on until we're both dead!"

The basilisk lunged at Grindelwald, but with a soft 'crack' the old mad had dissaparated –since Orion had adjusted the wards around Potter estate to allow him to do that within the borders. He saw Grindelwald smirking gleefully, having apparated behind the basilisk and shooting a great spurt of water at the creature.

Orion snorted, and jeered, "That won't be enough, old man!"

Water dosed the basilisk, its flames only marginally dwindling while greater swirls of smoke crept into the air, before the creature reared its magnificent fiery head, hissing, before it launched an attack on Grindelwald again, snapping its jaws.

The old wizard shot him a toothy, crooked smile, before casting a Killing Curse his way, disapparating again with a soft 'crack'.

With a snarl of anger, Orion flung to a side, the beam of bright green light rushing over his head, and he crouched on the ground, his arms shaking under the strain of his own weight.

"Crucio!"

Orion was forced to roll to a side to avoid the incoming curse shot at him, and he saw Grindelwald standing near him, jerking his hand at the basilisk and producing a black storm of wind which captured the immense creature, flinging it towards the nearby pond.

With a great splash of water, the creature of fire loudly hissed as the black ravaging wind forced it to submerge deeper into the pond, and it summarily disappeared from the surface, its tail flailing as its fire was consumed, the water of the surface boiling and letting out rivulets of stinging smoke.

Grindelwald swiftly spun around to aim his wand at him, a broad smirk on his face. Orion, crouched on his hands and knees, swiftly stretched out a palm towards the wizard, feeling exhausted beyond his limits, infuriated with the wizard's stupid persistence of getting the both of them injured beyond repair, and sensing his dark magic violently and animatedly burbling and swirling throughout his body.

In a blink of an eye, he allowed his dark magic to swell and completely take hold of him. But this time, it was different; this time, his raw, wild dark magic didn't simply fling the wizard into the air to make him crash against a wall.

Orion could only think that he wanted the duel to end, that he wanted the wizard in great pain to utterly incapacitate him, and his magic burst out from his body through his fingertips in a blasting wave that shone in the most brilliant of obsidians, waves of wild, roaring, melting and blazing dark magic.

His forehead began to fiercely throb, his heart was pounding with elation, the blood in his veins seemed to boil, growing hotter every moment, and his dark magic seemed to be burning inside him, bursting him open while he felt an indescribable pleasure surging throughout his body.

And he limply slumped on the ground, his eyes feverishly glazed over as more waves of magic burst from his extended fingers, seeing how they rushed forwards in undulating motion, swiftly striking Grindelwald before the wizard had time to blink.

In a second, he saw the old wizard utterly encompassed by the ever-expanding waves of darkness, and Grindelwald shrieked. For the first time, the wizard screamed in agonizing pain, and Orion, slumped on the ground, did nothing but smile in elation, wonder and a deep sense of triumph due to the soaring pleasure he was feeling.

His breath was haggard, panted and heavy, his wide eyes unseeing and glazed, and he was utterly lost in the extraordinary sensations he was feeling.

He was aware of the movement in the air, and how everything around him seemed to vibrate at different rates with each beings' pulse; his quickening, Grindelwald's weakening. He was aware of every dimple in every stone on the ground, every crack in the rocks. He was aware of the frantic flapping of birds' wings, of the rushing fleeing pounding of deer's hooves in the forest, of the swish of his robes around him.

Time lost all meaning to him, while his magic seemed to expand, filling everything around him until he felt that he was his surroundings, that he was his dark magic which undulated and rushed and roared in smoldering waves, waves with a purpose, magic obeying his desires and wishes as it wrapped around an agonizing Grindewald, the old man's screams rising and ringing in his ears.

But the screams meant nothing to him, he was too far gone in the pleasure, in the elation of feeling such power and darkness; in feeling himself, utterly unrestrained for the first time in his life.

The extraordinariness of the magic he was unleashing enticed him in a fiery vortex of pleasure, elation and hunger for more.

But suddenly, he felt as if he were in a midst of a burning fire which rose within him. He was suspended and trapped in the magic which kept roaring inside him and flowing outwards without restraint.

Abruptly, he screamed and his limbs flailed as he was consumed by searing pain, something inscrutably and relentlessly pushing from within him, painfully ramming and bursting. He clawed at his throat, feeling he couldn't breathe, feeling he couldn't think, as it inexorably grew; demanding, fierce, restless...

His sight seemed to explode in a burst of darkness and then all his senses where encompassed by a rushing of feelings, sensations, images, and voices...

_…A wizard with a handsome, aristocratic face framed by silky platinum-blond hair was writhing and agonizingly screaming on the floor, blood spurting from his mouth, contorted with horror and terrified agony, as the silvery eyes lost focus and began to roll to the back of his head, dilated…_

_…Wizards fiercely fighting against wizards in the midst of the night… dark creatures, vampires, werewolves, attacking and ripping limbs, the flash and clink of swords… screams and wails of pain and shouted incantations… there was magic pulsing in the air, vibrating all around them… the carnage was brutal… and in the midst, a lone figure, untouched by the violence and surrounded by wizards and creatures who fought in front of him, as if creating a protective circle around him…_

_"Yes…yes," whispered an enticing, lulling voice, "come to me, my child… I'm waiting… longing for you… so close…"_

_A frenetic chant that became louder with each heart beat… like drums being banged wildly, increasing in tempo, as two words were repeated by a large crowd of eager voices…. "Lord Black…. Lord Black… Lord Black…"_

_A handsome, cold, and ruthless face with intense all-black eyes which surveyed the carnage in front of him with impassivity... A fear-gripping, powerful aura of dark magic pulsed violently around him…_

_….A wizard with black hair and green eyes was cradling a baby in his arms, a beautiful baby girl with wisps of black hair, her eyes closed while he lovingly rocked her, his body trembling, hunched protectively, while his green eyes were unfocused, tormented, pained, and brokenly sorrowful…_

_…Wizards and creatures ran into a battle, a wizard continuously swished his wand through the air… His raw magic funneled into a massively destructive force which flooded outward like a wave intent on destroying everything in its path… Dark magic shot from his hands, striking enemies within reach… torn bodies soon dropping dead with a last agonizing scream…_

_"Feel it," whispered the enticing voice, "See it… what will happen… no change… no alteration… accept… come to me…"_

_…A wizard with all-black eyes coldly smiled as ghostly forms rose from convulsing living bodies, dark magic pouring from his palms and enveloping the shapes which screeched and twisted until they disappeared in puffs of whiteness…_

_Intense, all-black eyes looked unfeelingly at a weakened wizard. "Just tell me why, Tom..."_

_…Hungry lips against soft ones, fingers being carded through platinum blond hair, silvery eyes looking up dazedly as a black haired wizard plundered the soft lips of the young wizard below him, caressing demandingly, undulating his body against the other's, feeling a deep scorching surge of maddening desire and inexorable, lustful hunger…_

_…An old woman raked a long, sharp fingernail across a wizard's cheek, his green eyes wide, observing her, as his skin broke along the fine cut, small drops of blood dribbling down his jaw._

_Her intense obsidian eyes glowed while she smudged her fingertip with his blood, bringing it her mouth. A red tongue flicked out and quickly licked the blood from her fingertip, and she closed her eyes, slightly tilting her head backwards._

_"Hmm… Perfection… at last… I've waited for you…" she whispered in a low, deep and eerie voice, her words cutting through the deadly silence of the room…_

_"Why, you ask? Is it not plain enough to you, Orion?" Crimson eyes flashed in anger and fury, but also with an unvoiced plea. "I DID IT FOR US! -- I DID IT FOR YOU!" The wizard shakily advanced forwards and clasped the other wizard's shoulders. "I ASK YOU TO SAVE SOME PART OF US!"_

_"You did it for yourself," said the other wizard, his voice cold, unforgiving, his all-black eyes glowing._

_…A chant became reverent, high-pitched and eager as the fighting continued… voices became zealous, fervent and feverish as they screamed a name as if it was their battle-cry, while swords were plunged and dark curses bellowed… "Lord Black!… Vindico!… Vindico!… Vindico!…"_

_"Yes," whispered the enticing voice, "feel it… let it fill you… accept it… direct it… unrestrained… powerful… wild… this is you, my child… I'm waiting…"_

_…A tall young man with long black hair and slightly slanted pale blue eyes was softly kissing a wizard slumped against a wall, green eyes wide and dazed as the other deepened the kiss hungrily, demandingly, but also gently. There was warmth, belonging, and urgency as their clothed bodies writhed together, each gripping the other closer._

_Pale blue eyes darkened with need. "It's not too late. Don't you feel it – our blood bond calling us to complete it? This was meant to be, dragostea mea. I won't let you go again. I will not lose you again. I can't."_

_Incisors sharpened and elongated, and they sank into the smaller wizard's neck, green eyes glazing with fevered need and desire before they rolled, and the wizard sagged against the taller young man who moaned and kept drinking..._

_"I've allowed you to live for this long because of what we once shared," said a toneless, ruthless voice, all-black eyes cold. "I can't afford to postpone it any longer; it would always end like this, Tom."_

_"I'm waiting, my child," whispered the enticing voice. "You're so close… almost ready… come to me…"_

_…An intense, black blast of magic seemed to plunge into a wizard's chest, as if a hand was gripping something inside and pulling it out. The wizard violently convulsed, his crimson eyes wide, and he screamed in agony as his flesh started to be ripped apart by the black magic coming from a wizard with cold, unemotional all-black eyes._

_The air became unbearably heavy as the dark magic finally pulled a ghostly shape from the wizard's body, and with a last agonizing scream, the wizard dropped to the ground, his corpse only a torn mass of flesh, the crimson eyes wide, empty and lifeless..._

_The remaining wizard's hands shook as the trapped ghostly form began to violently twist; unearthly, high-pitched wails and shrieks of agony pierced the deathly silence of the vast landscape._

_Dark magic poured from the wizard with all-black eyes, the magic going into a dark sphere as it plunged into the ghostly shape, savagely ripping it to pieces._

_The wails decreased and finally silenced, when the ghostly form was reduced to nothingness, ceasing to exist with a blast of powerful dark magic exploding from the empty sphere…_

_"This is it," whispered the enticing voice, "I've been waiting so long… so long… you're here, at last… let it have you… make it yours… direct it… open your eyes and see… I'm waiting… come soon… open your eyes…"_

_…The wizard dropped his hands and his all-black eyes glanced at the corpse at his feet, staring unemotionally at the crimson, lifeless eyes, as he whispered coldly, "There's nothing left of you now. Good-bye, Tom."_

_"Make it yours… Open your eyes!"_

A wave of blazing pain surged through Orion's body and he screamed, his eyes snapping open, his body giving one last jerk, before it suddenly stopped.

Everything seemed to halt and his scream died in his throat, his eyes glancing around, wild, frantic, burning with the prickle of tears, his head throbbing and swirling with the images he had seen, his heart pounding and aching with what he had felt.

And then, he caught sight of what was happening around him. He saw Grindelwald lying motionless on the ground, his body ravaged beyond recognition, everything dark and vibrating around him, his dark magic still pouring from him in undulating, searing waves of unrestrained, wild magic.

Frenziedly, terrified, Orion haggardly gasped for breath, unsteadily trying to stand up, but he screamed in pain when his broken ankle gave way under him, and he fell to the ground.

He was frantic, scared, horrified as he gazed at the unmoving German wizard, but he forced himself to relax. He took deep breaths, he shrouded himself in his Necromantic abilities, finding detached tranquility, and he imagined his dark magic, searching for his inner magical core.

It seemed to thrum all over him, flowing and vibrating through his veins, he could feel it pulsing within him, in time with his heart. And everything inside him seemed to be glowing black, pumping like his blood pumped through his veins.

He wrapped himself in it, and took a deep breath, clenching his extended hand, calling back his magic, forcing it to obey and come back to him, to fill him. And he took back control of what felt like his broadened consciousness—he took control of the raw dark magic he had released, still vibrating in the surroundings and suffusing everything in darkness.

He breathed in and continued to call it back, and the air began to move, began to swirl around in twisted spirals; his unleashed dark magic began to obey. He pulled it toward him, and he heard a sucking sound that grew to a roar, and watched as the dark magic pulled itself away from Grindelwald.

With urgency, he gathered all his focus and will, and forced it to come back to him at once, and abruptly, with a deafening BANG which resounded throughout the grounds, the air around him collapsed back on itself and he saw his waves of dark magic rushing towards him, plunging into him as he was thrown backwards…

Groaning, Orion found himself lying on his back, feeling dazed while his body seemed to be burning with searing pleasure and vibrating power. He shook his head and slowly got to his knees, and then stood up, feeling revitalized, empowered, invincible and complete.

There was a pleasant, warm thrumming around him, wrapping him, and in wonder, he glanced down at himself, and he saw it for the first time; his dark magic pulsing around him like a zealous lover, relaxedly vibrating, embracing him.

And he knew at once that this was what Sebastien had referred to; his dark magic had overflowed, he wouldn't be able to cloak it, he wouldn't be able to restrain it so that others wouldn't sense it.

It had happened, and everything would change because of that.

He heaved in deep breaths, forcing himself not to panic though he knew what this new development meant and the consequences it would have.

When he regained his composure, he straightened and hopped towards Grindelwald, paying no mind to the numerous aches and complains of his battered body, while his chest clenched with pained dread, fearing that he had killed his mentor, and that part of the backlash had been the old wizard's power plunging into him.

As he neared the motionless, ravaged old wizard, his mind spun and his throat constricted. It was too soon, he still needed Grindelwald, it hadn't been his intention to kill him. He cared for the old man.

He shakily carded his fingers through his hair, his eyes burning. Merlin, don't let him be dead!

Orion dropped to his knees besides Grindelwald's fleshed out body, ravaged with deep bloodied wounds, the skin scorched, black and purple, the old wizard's face burned beyond recognition.

He gazed at him, his stomach churned, and he froze, his body becoming rigid, his face losing all its color as he observed what he had done, his chest painfully clenching with wrecked guilt, remorse, and deep-rooted sorrow.

Abruptly, Orion lurched to a side and retched everything inside his stomach, his body violently shaking and arching as he kept frantically heaving, unable to stop himself.


	6. The new visions & RR's Wisdom

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 6****  
**

Orion wiped his mouth clean with his ragged, soiled sleeve, and he forced himself to clear his mind from rushed conclusions in order to act efficiently and calmly.

Drawing in a hitched breath of hopefulness, he gazed back at the savaged body before him and he whipped out his wand, quickly casting a diagnostic charm.

Grindelwald's body glowed in a faint, weak red light, and Orion let out a long breath, before he snapped his fingers and called frantically, "Daisy!"

The chief house-elf of Potter Manor, a tiny little thing clothed in a pink dress, popped right before him, her large blue eyes taking in the destruction of the grounds around them, fretfully clasping her hands and rocking on her feet.

Though, Orion knew that she was used to see such havoc being wrecked on the Potter estate, since after every single lesson with Grindelwald an army of house-elves had to bustle around the estate, frenziedly snapping fingers in order to arrange everything to what it had been.

Then, her eyes landed on him, and she pelted forwards with a horrified expression on her face, her large ears bobbing frantically, as she cried, "Master is injured! Master Potter must come inside, sir. I is taking Master inside to be healed-"

"My guest is more important," interrupted Orion quickly, his voice anxious. "He's very weak, Daisy, and I need your help and that of three other house-elves. We need to heal him right away or he'll die in a few minutes. And I must have your help, if I work alone I won't save him on time. Do you understand?"

Her eyes widened in alarm, and she repeatedly nodded, rushing out, "Yes, Master Potter, sir. I is helping you heal him. I is, and other house-elves too."

"Good," said Orion hastily, "then take us to his suite, if I apparate him he'll be jostled too much. And call the others to us. Make them bring all the potions they can from the storeroom. Blood Replenishing, Magical Wounds Healing, Muscle Relaxing, Pain Numbing, Dark Curse Inhibitor, and Strengthening potions, along with Burn Healing Salve and Strong Sleeping Draught. Understood?"

Daisy quickly nodded her head, and without further ado, she snapped her fingers, and Orion felt as if he was floating in a limbo, right before his feet landed on cold, marble floors.

He glanced around and saw that they were in the suite he had assigned to Grindelwald, in Potter Manor's family wing, a luxurious yet warmly comfortable bedroom done in cobalt blues and silver hues.

Orion saw Grindelwald being levitated on top of the plush, dark blue covers of the four-poster bed, and he rushed to his side as Daisy popped out from the room.

He started to quickly trace his wand in intricate patterns over the wizard's body, while he murmured a long string of healing spells, his forehead scrunched in deep, urgent concentration.

He heard other house-elves popping into the room, worriedly bustling around, and then the clink of potion vials being set on the nightstand, but his gaze never left the wizard lying before him and he kept muttering spell after healing spell to fortify the old wizard's body, as thick beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his arms trembling from exhaustion and his body shaking and aching. But he continued, knowing that if he stopped for even one second, Grindelwald's life would slip away from him.

"Daisy," he said hastily, "vanish his clothes and force the Magical Wound Healing potion down his throat, be gentle. The rest of you, use your magic to infuse him with some strength."

With Grindelwald now naked, though only recognizable as a large lump of torn flesh, Orion continued casting layer upon layer of healing spells to close deep gashes, mend broken bones, and repair shredded muscles and tendons, while the house-elves obeyed his orders.

He didn't know how many hours passed by, but as he ordered the house-elves to feed the old wizard potion after potion, and after Grindelwald's wounds started to heal, the skin knitting back together, he quickly ordered, "Daisy, apply the Burn Healing Salve over his skin. Be careful of not letting it touch any open wound."

Soon, a pungent odor spread throughout the room as Grindelwald's body became covered by a thick, yellowish ointment, Daisy's small fingers working quickly and gently to spread it.

Suddenly, Orion's vision fogged and he started swaying. Shaking his head, he quickly snatched a Strengthening potion vial and gulped it in one shot, summarily getting back to casting more healing spells.

"Master need healing!"

Orion side-glanced at the angry female house-elf, who was leveling him with a hard glint in her eyes, her arms crossed over her small chest.

"I'll heal after he's out of danger, and I don't want to hear another word about it, Daisy," said Orion curtly, and then he snapped when she was about to retort, "That's an order. Now, please feed him another Blood Replenishing potion."

He heard a dissatisfied huff, but she soon complied, while the other three house-elves were hovering around Grindelwald, casting their own elvish magic on the old wizard as he had ordered. Though Orion knew that wizarding magic was more efficient and powerful to heal humans than elvish magic, but he would take whatever he could work with, since he couldn't possibly move Grindelwald to any wizarding hospital, or ask Severus to floo from Hogwarts to Potter Manor – no one knew that he had access to the Manor since no one knew that he had Potter blood, and he had no intention of giving Dumbledore reasons to find out about anything.

It was hours later when Orion finally cast a spell to induce Grindelwald into a magical healing coma, knowing that the wizard would awake when strong enough. He also casted on the old man an alarm charm which would go off if the wizard's condition didn't steadily improve, and he tiredly took a step back, barely able to move a finger due to the exhaustion, which seemed to seep into his very bones.

Finally, it seemed that Daisy couldn't hold her worry any longer, and she said rushed to him, tugging his ragged sleeve, "Master must heal."

"I'm fine," mumbled Orion, grabbing an armchair and pulling it besides Grindelwald's bed. "I just need to sit down while I watch over him. Someone must be awake in case he relapses."

Daisy scowled at him and snapped her fingers, and he soon found himself glowing in a pale yellow light, and the house-elf chided angrily, "You is no fine, Master Potter, sir. You need healing too. Bones broken, bleeding inside, and dark curses on you. You will be healed! I is good chief house-elf. I no let Master refuse healing!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, alright," muttered Orion, plopping unto the armchair, "you win, Daisy."

She nodded with satisfaction and lurched towards the nightstand, grabbing several vials and gently handing them to him.

Sighing, Orion gulped down some of the potions which would help him recover, before he vanished his robes and shirt, leaving him only with his black trousers, and he started to wave his wand over him, casting the healing spells required to mend his fractured or broken bones and to knit back his skin and heal the gashes, later casting bandages over his ankle, hand and torso.

It was soon after, with Daisy concernedly hovering by his side, refusing to leave him alone, that he fell asleep, utterly drained and exhausted, his mind swirling with the visions he had seen, most of them haunting him.

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Sunlight was pouring through the velvet cobalt blue curtains of the bedroom, whilst Orion was deep asleep on a plush sofa by Grindelwald's bedside, his bandaged body limply sprawled out, his head precariously hanging to a side.

Abruptly, he let out a startled yelp when he felt a singing wave of pain, as if struck by an electric shock, and his eyes snapped open, glancing around wildly while he instinctively whipped out his wand.

He heard a crow of laughter and his eyes quickly looked around for the source. Grindelwald was lying on his bed, head raised on a fluffy pillow, his body heavily bandaged and partly covered by a duvet. The old wizard looked pale and battered, but his face was no longer burned beyond recognition, his skin was no longer flayed, all the wounds seem to have healed, and his locks of blond hair with gray streaks were no longer scorched. Moreover, the old man was toothily grinning at him, the Phoenix wand clutched in his bandaged hand.

"What the hell was that for, you sadistic old bugger?!" snapped Orion, groaning in pain as he gently rubbed his bandaged chest, his body still aching and throbbing.

Grindelwald shot him a broad, crooked smirk. "Revenge."

"Oh," muttered Orion quietly, eyeing him carefully. "I guess I deserve much worse. It wasn't my intention to hurt you so badly and much less to kill you. I'm sorry for what happened-"

"Nonsense, mein junge," said Grindelwald, toothily smiling at him, "I'm proud of you. That was the breakthrough I've been waiting for. You know what it means, don't you?"

"Um, yeah," said Orion distractedly, as he accommodated himself into a more comfortable position on the sofa. "Hang on, I was on an armchair-"

"Your chief house-elf transfigured it into a sofa," interrupted Grindelwald dismissively, "It couldn't go against your wish to remain here, but it could at least make you be more comfortable."

"She," said Orion, shooting him an annoyed glance. "Don't call her 'it'."

Grindelwald snorted. "For any pureblood and dark wizard worth his salt, house-elves are 'it'."

"Well, not for this dark wizard," said Orion crisply. "I like Daisy, and I like house-elves in general, and so should you, since you'd be dead right now if they hadn't helped me to heal you."

"And who's to blame for my precarious state of health?" interjected Grindelwald, arching an elegant eyebrow. "Eh, mein junge?"

Orion gazed at him guiltily. "Merlin, I'm sorry for that, Gellert. You must know that it wasn't intentional-"

"Of course it was," interrupted Grindelwald, his lips quirking into a triumphant smirk, "your raw dark magic was obeying your desires." He arched an eyebrow with interested curiosity. "What were you thinking about when you made your dark magic attack me?"

"Er, well, I wanted the duel to end, I was quite fed up and tired," replied Orion, a bit sheepishly, "so I wanted you to be in enough pain to make you pass out."

Grindelwald let out an amused crow of laughter. "Well, you certainly did that, mein junge. I think I've never felt that level of pain before. You exceed my expectations."

"I thought I had killed you," muttered Orion grimly.

"Did you want me dead?" said Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow. When Orion shook his head, he continued smugly, "Precisely. You just wanted to put me out of commission so that the duel would end, and your magic did just that. Don't you see, mein junge, that it obeyed your wishes to the last word? I've been waiting for this for a long time. This was the final breakthrough for your magic, mein junge. From now on, you'll be able to do with it whatever you want. It will be increasingly easy for you to do so. At last, we've fulfilled the objective of our lessons-"

"But I still want to keep having them," interrupted Orion hastily. "There's plenty of other things I need to learn, and I still need to practice more-"

"You can do all that on your own," said Grindelwald dismissively. "I don't have much else to teach you."

"Yes, you do," insisted Orion sternly. "I don't want our lessons to end, yet."

Grindelwald scrutinized him, hawkeyed, and his lips quirked. "You're just postponing your duty to me. You know that our deal is that I give you lessons and that when these are over, you must kill me in return. I'm glad to have survived to see you fully master your dark magic, but now, you have to keep your end of the bargain. Now, you must kill me."

Orion stood up and crossed his arms over his bandaged chest, glaring down at him. "I won't kill you-"

"You must-"

"I won't kill you – yet," said Orion sharply. "Mastering my dark magic isn't enough, I still need to learn plenty of other things, and I need you for that."

Grindelwald gazed at him skeptically. "Things like what?"

"Um, er," said Orion uncertainly, before he pierced the old man with his eyes and drew up to his full height. "Many things. I still need to keep practicing my dueling skills and I would like you to teach me battle tactics, for example. But most importantly, I will need you to tell me about Dumbledore. After each of our lessons, when we sit down to heal ourselves, we've always spent time talking, but you've always made me talk about my life. I've told you everything about myself, but you've refused to tell me about yourself and about Dumbledore. I need to know more about him. The more I know of him, the easier it will be for me to exploit his weaknesses. That's what you can do for me."

When Grindelwald eyed him unconvinced that he wasn't just trying to evade the task of killing him –which was partly true- Orion gently placed a hand on the old wizard's bandaged shoulder, and he said quietly, "I still need you, Gellert. I promise that I'll kill you, but I'll do it after I've killed Dumbledore and obtained the Elder Wand. I think that's the best moment to do it. Just agree, please? You're the only one who knows everything about me. I don't want to lose that yet. I have too many secrets and I can only openly talk with you. Grant me that, for a few more months."

After a long silence, Grindelwald nodded, while he said sharply, "Alright, mein junge, as long as you keep your word and kill me afterwards."

"I will," said Orion quietly, sitting back down on the sofa. He pulled closer to the old wizard and gazed at him intently. "You're right, I didn't want to kill you and I should have known that my magic would obey me without going overboard, since it was going to happen sooner or later given that you've been training me for months, always pushing me to develop my dark magic and to learn how to control it when I unleash it in its raw form. But I thought I had killed you because something very strange happened, Gellert."

Grindelwald frowned at him. "What happened, mein junge?"

"Remember that I told you about the voice that I hear in my dreams?" said Orion quietly. The old wizard nodded, and he continued, "Well, when I made my raw magic pour out to attack you, at first it was pleasant and exhilarating but then I felt pain… lots of pain… it was strange but now I know what it was. I was my dark magic bursting from me, more unrestrained than I have ever allowed it to be; it was as if my magic was ramming inside me, wanting to break free to be no longer contained. It was what Sebastien Valois told me about. Remember, that I told you what he said? Well, I think that's why I felt pain, because my dark magic broke free and now I can no longer contain it. But that's not all, in the middle of it, before I called it back, I had my dreams – my visions. But I've never had them when I was awake; this has been the first time, and in this instance I saw much more than before. New visions… and I felt every single emotion that came with them. Furthermore, the voice also spoke to me. She said that I had to make it mine. She was referring to my raw dark magic, but when I saw you lying motionless, apparently dead, I thought that she had also referred to your magic-"

"It could have been if you had killed me," interjected Grindelwald impassively. "I'm fairly certain that the voice is waiting for you to kill me soon, so that you can obtain my dark magic as well-"

"Yes," interrupted Orion sharply, "but you don't know what I saw – what I heard. The voice – it's her. It's the Kraljica Mati, I'm almost sure. I saw an old woman with glowing black eyes… the same eyes I saw in Zraven Citadel when I found out that Lezander was alive. And I saw the vampire old woman tasting my blood, telling me that she had been waiting for me. And the voice always tells me that it's waiting for me-"

"You think that this Kraljica Mati is the one giving you the visions?" said Grindelwald, raising a skeptic eyebrow. "Mein junge, I've told you that no one can breach our minds, our dark magic protects us from that."

Orion carded his fingers through his hair, and snapped with exasperation, "But there are exceptions, aren't they? Voldemort can breach my mind because I'm his horcrux, but Merlin knows what the Kraljica Mati's powers are!"

He rose to his feet and started to pace the room, anxiously. "She's the Queen Mother of the Sdravkuls, the Founder of that vampire bloodline. Who knows how powerful such an ancient being is! Not to mention that Lezander's mother is her descendant. Mireilla is a Sdravkul as well, and she supports the Kraljica Mati. Razvan and Mireilla argued about the spirits and the Kraljica Mati, saying that both parties had the same aims though different methods. Mireilla wanted to tell me that Lezander was alive because the Kraljica Mati wanted me to know, while the spirits didn't, and Razvan ended up obeying the spirits – not that he was happy about it, the vampire seemed positively tired of being between the spirits and the Kraljica Mati."

He spun around to gaze at Grindelwald, and added sharply, "Furthermore, she has something to do with the vampire legend they refused to tell me about –Sanguini told me that- and she had something to do with the partial bond Lezander formed with me-"

"I thought that you said that the vampire boy was unaware that he was being manipulated by the Kraljica Mati," interjected Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, that might be so," said Orion, biting on his lower lip, "but the fact is that Lezander and I almost completed the bond to become mates - we shared blood, he took mine and I drank his. Now, it's incomplete, but I saw…" He gazed at Grindelwald, troubled, his voice breathless while he remembered. "I saw Lezander and myself, we… I think we were about to complete the bond."

He heavily sighed and dropped on the sofa again, muttering, "Not only that. I saw myself with Draco…" He swallowed thickly. "I desired him. I wanted him… I felt the need…it was consuming…" He groaned and fiercely rubbed his forehead. "I think I was about to shag him, or he about to shag me."

Grindelwald's eyebrows shot to his hairline, before he let out a crow of amused laughter. "Well, mein junge, I see nothing wrong in that! You should enjoy yourself as much as you can."

Orion fulminated him with a dour glance. "Enjoy myself? What – fucking two other people when I already have a spouse?"

"Why not?" said Grindelwald, smirking at him. "It's very common in pureblood circles, both Light and Dark, for spouses to have discrete affairs with lovers. And indeed, for dark wizards, it's vastly accepted, as long as you don't flaunt your affairs so that your spouse doesn't lose face."

He inched his face close to Orion's, briefly grimacing due to the linger pain in his body, and added with a toothy, crooked smile, "And you forget what you told me about the so called vampire legend. Didn't the Zravens say something about 'thrice bonded'? It can mean, as you suspected, that you'll have three types of bond with the same person, or that you'll be bonded with three different people. At present, you're bonded with Voldemort by a magical bonding ceremony and also because you carry a piece of his soul, and you have a blood bond with the vampire because you shared blood with him. Therefore, it seems to me, that perhaps you'll bond with the Malfoy Heir as well. And then, you'll have your 'thrice bonded' part fulfilled."

Orion gaped at him, his eyes wide. "I hadn't thought about that… but… but…" He shook his head, before he pierced the old man with his eyes, saying sharply, "But the Vindico has no love. According to everyone, if I become the Vindico I will not be able to -"

"The Head of Valois House," interrupted Grindelwald pointedly, "told you the truth about this matter. The spirits believe that the one who undergoes and survives the Vindico test will be changed, not necessarily physically, but he will not be entirely human. I suspect that the configuration of his mind and powers are what changes. As I told you before, I have reason to believe that even though the Vindico will not be able to feel deep attachments, he will surely be able to have any number of lovers he desires. And you, since you still have time before trying to become the Vindico, should be enjoying that aspect of your life."

He comfortably stretched on the bed, and added with a rogue smirk, "For instance, I'm a Dark Lord, and my priority has always been to give back glory and power to the Dark, but I've always enjoyed carnal pleasures, mein junge. I admit no love and no equal, but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy fucking whomever I fancy." His smirk widened. "I've always been a randy wizard."

Orion choked, his eyes wide and watery, before he burst into a fit of laughter. "You're incorrigible, old man."

"Ja, I am," said Grindelwald, crookedly smirking at him.

Orion chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, before his expression turned grave and serious again when his mind got back in track.

He gazed at the old wizard, the only person alive with whom he could truly share his thoughts and bear out his feelings –just as he could once do with Calypso- since the man knew him very well after all the conversations they had held.

He sucked in a breath before he said quietly, "I saw Draco being tortured. It's what I always see in my dream, but this time it was clearer… I think he was dying."

With difficulty, Grindewald propped himself on his elbows to pierce him with his eyes, and he said sternly, "You must prevent it from happening; the Malfoy Heir cannot be lost."

"Yes, I will," said Orion grimly, "but that's not all." He stared at the old man, his eyes perturbed, his throat constricting. "I saw a baby girl. I think… I think she's my daughter. I felt this unconditional love towards her… she is precious to me…"

"A daughter?" asked Grindelwald with startled surprise. "With whom?"

Orion shook his head. "I don't know; with Voldemort, I suppose. It should be with him. But I wasn't the Vindico yet, or a Necromancer; my eyes were still green. So how can I have a daughter if I'm planning on becoming the Vindico in a year? And Voldemort knows that I want to wait until after the war-"

"He could have already tricked you into bearing a child for him," pointed out Grindelwald.

"How?" scoffed Orion. "The potion which rearranges a wizard's insides to allow him to carry a baby causes great amounts of pain. I think I would know if I had taken it, Gellert."

Grindelwald frowned pensively, but remained silent, and Orion jerkily carded his fingers through his hair, his eyes unseeing, as he said quietly, "Something terrible will happen… I was cradling the baby, feeling intense love towards her but I also felt sadness… such sorrow as I've never felt before, even more wrecking than when I saw my father soulless or when I thought that Lezander had died… What could it be? I don't know, but it's something terrible, Gellert… And the voice said I couldn't change anything… but I don't want to believe that..."

"What else did you see?" whispered Grindelwald, his face lined with worry.

"I saw myself with Necromancer's eyes, leading others into battle as they call my name, they call me 'Vindico'… I always see that in my dreams," said Orion, before he swallowed thickly. "And I saw myself confronting Voldemort… I was different, I think I was already a Necromancer, I had no mercy… he did something and I couldn't forgive… I kill him and I know exactly how; with Necromancy, with one of the spells I've learned from Cadmus's journal, one of the spells I've practiced till perfection…"

He stared at Grindelwald, his eyes pained, his voice a muttered whisper. "I destroyed Voldemort. I didn't send his soul to the spiritual plane; I obliterated it, completely. What could possibly make me do such thing? I would never do that, not even to my worst enemy. But I said 'There's nothing left of you now'." He gazed at the old wizard frantically. "Do you know what that means, Gellert? That I had destroyed all his other horcruxes as well! I gave him no chance of coming back, I truly killed him, Gellert!"

Grindelwald heavily sighed, leaning back on his fluffy pillow. "What do you want me to say, mein junge? That these things will not happen? That you can change them?"

"Yes."

"I can't," said Grindelwald, shooting him a commiserating glance. "I don't know who's sending you the visions. Perhaps it's the Kraljica Mati as you suspect, but since I've never met her or taken much interest in vampires, I can offer you no viable answers. From all what you've told me, I can only hope that you didn't see the Malfoy Heir being killed, just tortured, and therefore, I hope that you'll be able to help the boy." He pierced his hazel eyes into his. "He cannot be lost, he has powerful blood in him."

"He cannot be lost," said Orion sharply, "because he's my friend, not because the spirits will lose one of the offspring they wanted to create. Not because of his blood, but because I love him as a friend. But you're missing the point, Gellert. From all what I saw, I can accept Draco being tortured because I'll do whatever it takes to stop it when it happens. I can also accept that I'll be with Draco and Lezander, because that's nothing in comparison to the rest. What concerns me is the baby and the sorrow I felt! What concerns me is that I destroyed all of his horcruxes and then killed Voldemort and his last piece of soul. Don't you realize that it means that the horcrux in me was already destroyed by then?"

Grindelwald frowned at him. "But that can't-"

"Exactly, that can't be done by me," said Orion, nodding at him. "I'm a stable human-horcrux; his piece of soul completely merged with mine. There's no way of killing one without killing the other. Furthermore, the only one who can destroy the horcrux in me is Voldemort himself, and for that-"

"He has to kill you," muttered Grindelwald, his frown deepening. "Ja, he has to kill you but you saw yourself killing him, so you survived."

"How?" said Orion, deeply perturbed. "If he kills me, he destroys the piece of soul inside me and he destroys me, there's no way I can survive, and there's no way that I can destroy the horcrux in me myself."

"We don't know if you can't survive death," interjected Grindelwald, piercing him with his eyes. "You're the first stable human-horcrux of existence, mein junge. We don't know what would happen if he killed you. Perhaps by killing you he would be killing the piece of soul inside you, but maybe you survive thanks to your Necromantic abilities."

"Yes, who knows, it's all speculation," muttered Orion grimly, "but the crux of the matter is that, presumably, he'll try to kill me. Why would he do that? Furthermore, why would I utterly destroy him? All the pieces of his soul… so ruthlessly… so unforgiving… that's not me… unless he did something terrible-"

"I think you should accept that it might come to happen," interrupted Grindelwald sternly. "I've always told you that killing him is one of the few alternatives you have if you want to become the Vindico. If what you saw is real, if the voice told you that you couldn't change anything-"

"She said 'no alteration, no change', that I had to accept what I was seeing," interjected Orion bitterly, his voice dejected, before he pierced the old wizard with his eyes and snapped fiercely, "But I can't accept that I'll destroy all of Voldemort's horcruxes and then ruthlessly kill him! Don't you understand, Gellert? Everything I'm doing is for him, to save him!"

"Ja, I know," said Grindelwald quietly. "But that doesn't mean that you'll succeed without being forced to kill him."

"Why shouldn't I succeed?" snapped Orion angrily. "I'm doing things my own way, just as you suggested. I'll kill you and I'll become a Necromancer to have the power necessary to survive the Vindico test. So why would I kill Voldemort, telling him that it was the way it would always end? If I told him that, it means that I killed him to become the Vindico, but everything I'm doing right now is in order to circumvent that. So why shouldn't it work?!"

"I don't know, mein junge," said Grindelwald with a weary sigh, "but I think it would be wise of you to accept it as a possibility."

"No, never," bit out Orion. "All these visions could be a manipulation just for that very same purpose, to make me believe that I'll end up doing all those things-"

"Ah, but other visions have come true, haven't they?" interjected Grindelwald, piercing him with his eyes. "Even if the Kraljica Mati is the one sending you the visions, the crux of the matter is that she's been right in several occasions. You had a vision about your father's soul before truly seeing him inside the Dementor and you had a vision about Voldemort killing you before it happened in the illusion the Manticore spun in your mind. Everything points towards the visions being accurate. I dare say that you should work with the assumption that the visions you saw yesterday will, in truth, come to happen. You should prepare yourself for it, mein junge, to be ready to act accordingly."

The old man pierced him with his eyes, and added sharply, "For instance, you must be ready to protect the Malfoy Heir. You can't allow him to be killed. Furthermore, as Valois suggested, you should gather the horcruxes, since it's possible that you'll end up deciding –for whatever reason- that Voldemort must be killed."

"That's your advice to me?" said Orion crisply. "Just to accept it?"

"My advice is that you should accept what you can't change," said Grindelwald sternly, "and change what can be prevented – those occurrences which weren't conclusive in your visions, like the Malfoy boy's death." He tiredly sighed, adding quietly, "That's the best advice I can give you, mein junge. You should seek your answers with the Kraljica Mati if you believe that she's the one giving you the visions."

"Yes, I know," muttered Orion grimly, "and I will do it. I'm fairly certain that she already knows that I'll go to Zraven Citadel during the summer, and I bet that she'll see me then. During a Christmas party at Hogwarts, Sanguini Sdravkul told me that she would want to see me soon - remember that I told you about it? During the summer, I'll seek her out. I won't change all my plans just because she's sending me these damned visions. I won't give her that satisfaction."

"Ja, I agree," said Grindelwald curtly, "you should go on with your plans, but keep the visions in mind. Gather the horcruxes and protect the Malfoy Heir."

Orion nodded dismissively, his mind swirling with troubled thoughts. That was until he heard a gleeful bark of laughter and saw Grindewald observing him with a satisfied and proud smirk on his face.

"What is it, old man?" said Orion, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm very proud of you, mein junge, you've become powerful indeed!" said Grindelwald, chortling joyfully. "Look at you now, with your dark magic vibrating around you!"

Orion looked down at himself, and surely, there it was, a soft black veil of pulsing magic; his dark magic now languidly and pleasantly thrumming around him.

"Why the long face, junge?" said Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow. "You should be ecstatic! Now, you'll intimidate them. Now, they'll fear you when they see you coming!"

"Yeah, that's fantastic," muttered Orion sarcastically, "but you forget that I still attend Hogwarts. How on Earth can I go around like this, with my dark magic uncontained? Dumbledore will instantly know that I've been putting up a farce all this time!"

"Then leave Hogwarts," offered Grindelwald simply.

Orion shot him an annoyed glance. "I can't leave Hogwarts, Gellert. I have to help Draco with his task and I still want to find out what Dumbledore's plans are. Not to mention that I have to kill the old coot and it's not likely that I'll get a better chance of doing it. I have to do it when Voldemort launches the attack on the school. I have to be there for Draco, because of the Unbreakable Vow I took. Due to the Vow, I must first allow Draco to attempt to kill Dumbledore, and then, I have to kill the old man myself. That way, the Vow will be fulfilled and I'll gain the Elder Wand. If I'm not at Hogwarts, I won't be able to do either of those things, and the Vow would kill me."

"Ja, you're right," said Grindelwald, frowning pensively while Orion tiredly rubbed his forehead, dejectedly slumping on the sofa.

Suddenly, the old wizard's hazel eyes lit up and he slowly shifted closer towards Orion, saying quietly, "There's a way to contain your dark magic inside you so that no one will sense it. It's dangerous and exhausting, but it's the only solution I can think of, if you're willing to bear the consequences."

Orion arched an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"A potion," said Grindelwald, his eyes now holding a glint of troubled reminiscence. "It's a very simple potion, easy to brew with common ingredients. Long ago, one of my followers came up with it. She was a brilliant Potion Mistress and I had charged her with the task of creating a potion to mute my dark magic, suppressing the pull of my dark magic but also allowing me to use all my powers. At that time, I was already perceiving that my mind was weakening, that I was slowly losing my sanity, since I wasn't going forth with the pull of my dark magic because I already realized that I wouldn't survive the Vindico test. Therefore, I ordered her to find a potion which would help me with my problem-"

"But it didn't work, did it?" interjected Orion, frowning at him. "It couldn't have worked since in the end you resorted to allow Dumbledore to defeat you, so that you would be imprisoned in Nurmengard, under the wards that Dumbledore casted; wards which suppressed your dark magic and, therefore, muted the pull, allowing you to remain sane."

"Ja, that's true," said Grindelwald impassively, "the potion wasn't a solution for me because it helps in the short-run but not in the long-run. You see, it's basically poison. You have to take the potion every day at the same time, so that your dark magic is contained inside you without anyone sensing it. It will mute the pull yet it will not weaken your magic or powers, but it will increasingly weaken your body. Furthermore, you can only take the potion for six months. If you take it for a longer period of time, it will kill you. Moreover, since it's basically a poison, when you withdraw from it, you'll undergo several days of great pain, as your body expels it from your system." The old wizard grimaced. "Believe me, mein junge, it's not pleasant and you'll suffer much."

Orion happily grinned at him, and said eagerly, "But then, I can use it, right? It was useless to you since you wanted a permanent solution, but I only need a short-run solution, and six months is plenty of time! It's perfect-"

"Ja," interrupted Grindelwald sternly, piercing him with his eyes, "but if I were you I would stop taking it as soon as I possible. And always remember to take it every day at the same time. If you miss one day, you'll instantly go into withdrawal and you'll be incapacitated for several days, suffering severe fevers and horrible bouts of pain. You'll have to go through that regardless, because you must stop taking the potion before the six months are over, or the potion will kill you otherwise. That's clear to you, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes," said Orion excitedly, "and I'm all up for it, Gellert. I don't mind going through a withdrawal, I had to go through one when I became addicted to the Invigorating Draught during my fourth year, remember?"

"Ja, you told me about it," said Grindelwald curtly, "but that was nothing in comparison to what you will suffer during the withdrawal of this potion."

Orion waved a hand dismissively. "I'll bear it. Can you teach me how to brew it today? I have to make a large batch of vials right away."

"Ja, we'll do that, but don't you have to get back to Hogwarts soon?" interjected Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow.

Orion's eyes widened as he glanced around and finally saw, through the parted curtains, that the sun was already setting. "It's Monday evening already… we slept through the whole night and day… and using the time-turner won't be enough…" He heavily sighed. "Oh, bother, I'll just say that I took a tumble down a stair and that I had to stay in Durmstrang's infirmary, healing from a cracked skull or something. Missing one day of class at Hogwarts can't be that suspicious."

"Very well," said Grindelwald relaxedly, before he pulled the duvet away from him and used his hands to extend the only part of his body which wasn't bandaged; his blackened, deadened leg. He pierced Orion with his eyes, and said crisply, "Now, mein junge, if you don't mind, are you going to heal this?"

Orion smirked at him, standing up. "That's what you get for pissing off someone with Necromantic abilities. But there's no reason to raise your hackles at me, old man. I couldn't heal it until you were stronger."

Grindelwald let out a short-tempered harrumph but allowed Orion to work quietly as he closed his eyes and called forth his Necromantic powers, to be encompassed by them as he gently placed his hands around the old wizard's decomposed flesh, slowly starting to bring it back to life while he muttered the counter-curse.

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Early Tuesday morning, Orion finally apparated to Bornholm Island, outside Durmstrang's wards, in order to reach the school and use Vagnarov's floo connection to reach Hogwarts.

Before leaving Potter Manor in the wee hours of the morning, he had taken the potion that Grindelwald had taught him to brew the previous evening, and he had checked on the old wizard, finding him deeply asleep.

He knew that the week of rest would be positive for Grindelwald after being so badly injured, and it would also give the wizard time to plan what to teach him during their subsequent lessons.

Curiously enough, when he had reached Vagnarov's office, the old wizard hadn't questioned him about his presence at Durmstrang during a weekday, nor had the Headmaster asked him about his whereabouts. The old wizard had simply greeted him with a broad, deeply satisfied smirk on his face, before continuing reading several parchments stacked on his desk, dismissing his presence entirely.

Therefore, Orion was fairly certain that Grindelwald had, at some point, allowed the spirits to contact him through his mind; surely to let them know about the 'breakthrough', as they now called it.

But it didn't worry Orion, since he knew that whatever Grindelwald did was always for his benefit, and not the spirits'. Let the spirits know that he was now powerful enough for others to sense his aura of dark magic, and let the spirits wonder what his next independent steps would be.

As usual, he had flooed into Dumbledore's office from Vagnarov's, ready to lie smoothly about the reason for his absence, though he found himself with no need to do so, since Dumbledore hadn't been there.

He soon found the reason why when he climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. There had been a small group of seventh years clustered together around a girl; it was Katie Bell, looking completely healthy and surrounded by her jubilant friends. She had been let out of St. Mungo's and Dumbledore had brought her back to the school.

Orion blessed the event, since during the next few days the Gryffindors were boisterously animated and happy to have the girl back and none had asked him why he had been absent on Monday; none, except Hermione, but she seemed to have believed his lie.

Furthermore, now that Katie Bell was back, interest in the imminent Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game was running extremely high throughout the school, since the match would decide the Championship and the Gryffindor team now had their star chaser back. And that allowed Orion to pass unnoticed.

Nevertheless, as promised by Grindelwald, the potion he was taking daily worked superbly well. Not even he could sense his dark magic; he didn't have it thrumming and vibrating around him any longer, though he knew that he could use it, as Grindelwald had said.

Orion had to admit that he did feel strangely empty without it, but it was a necessary measure, and with some luck, he wouldn't start feeling the negative effects –like tiredness and physical exhaustion- for some time.

It was finally that Friday when he decided to do what he had planned on doing on Monday.

He had everything set and ready in Slytherin's private study, with Cadmus' journal open on the page detailing the spell he was going to use and with the Resurrection Stone lying on the middle of the desk, ready to be subjected to the Necromantic spell which would release it from Voldemort's piece of soul.

But first, Orion grabbed the thick tome he had been working on for so many months. With great satisfaction, he was going to finally hand it to Severus.

Summarily, he apparated from Slytherin's private study to a bathroom stall of his dormitory, and casting the parsel-invisibility spell on himself, he merrily left Gryffindor Tower, eagerly excited about what he was going to accomplish that evening; bringing back the Resurrection Stone to its former state, with its magic unblocked from Voldemort's piece of soul.

With a happy gait in his steps, he finally reached the dungeons and softly knocked on the door of Snape's office.

"Enter," came the surly response, and Orion did so, quickly cancelling his invisibility and strolling inside with a smirk plastered on his face.

Not surprisingly, Snape was behind his desk, with orderly stacks of paper arranged on one side, and several shelves lined with potion instruments and vials, systematically labeled and ordered.

Snape glanced up at him, his expression dark and dour, and gestured at the hard wooden chair on the other side of the desk, for Orion to take a seat.

"What do you want, Black?"

Orion arched an eyebrow; his guardian was certainly in a sour mood if he was reversing back to calling him Black.

Eyeing with distaste the uncomfortable chair proffered, he sauntered to the desk, leaning on it and thus forcing Snape to crane his neck back to scowl at him.

He shot the snarky wizard a toothy, impish grin –which seemed to irk the man, to Orion's delight.

"Well, what is it?" snapped Snape impatiently. "I don't have all night to entertain you, annoying brat."

"Ah, as always, your words warm my heart, Severus," said Orion, cheekily smiling at him, which only made the wizard scowl more darkly at him.

Quickly, he cast silencing and anti-spying spells around them, and said cheerfully, "I came here to finally give you your long overdue Christmas present."

He carefully brought out from his pocket the thick tome and set it on the desk, in front of Snape. It was a handsome journal, really; the pages rimmed with silver, the covers of a soft black leather, and with a silver clasp and key-lock.

Orion tapped a finger on the cover, and flashed a smile to Snape. "Read the first page and weep with joy."

Snape shot him a dour scowl before his long, dexterous fingers carefully opened the book. Instantly, his eyes imperceptively widened as he read aloud, "Compendium of Salazar Slytherin's Research Journals on Blood, translated and transcribed by Orion Sirius Black."

The wizard's fingers jerkily clasped around the book and he looked up at Orion. "This is…" He cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes at him. "Is it truly Slytherin's research? A compendium of his journals?"

"It is," said Orion, happily grinning at him. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" snapped Snape incredulously, before he eyed the book, his eyes softening as if caressing it. "Do you know what you have given me, boy?"

Orion scoffed. "Of course I do. It took me ages to translate all seven of Slytherin's journals, I'll tell you that. By now, I know them by heart."

"Why would you give me this treasure?" said Snape, looking up at him. His eyes narrowed, and he said crisply, "What do you want in exchange?"

Orion rolled his eyes, and said exasperately, "Nothing, it's a gift for Merlin's sake. I know that you will appreciate it. It's filled with detailed brewing instructions for countless potions. Potions created by Slytherin, you know. I bet you're itching to try them. Not to mention the dark spells Slytherin invented. All of it is riveting, you'll see."

"Why?" said Snape, his voice slightly hitched.

Orion warmly smiled at him, tapping his finger on the end of the first page. "You forgot to read this."

Snape gazed down, and read aloud, "For my esteemed friend and trusted ally, Severus Prince." His eyes snapped to Orion's, and he said flatly, "I'm not a Prince."

"You are," said Orion, grinning at him. "And I think it's proper to address you as such; a wizarding surname should always have precedence over a muggle one. Really, I don't know why you won't go to the Ministry and demand to have the right to use the Prince name. Your old grandfather might have banished your mother from the line, but you still are the only Prince Heir left; you could claim the inheritance, you have the right. And you would have much more influence if you went around using the name."

Snape cleared his throat noncommittally, leaning back on his high-armchair, intently scrutinizing him. And at last, he muttered with great effort, "Thank you. I'll always cherish it."

"I'm sure you will, and I'm glad that you value it as it should be," said Orion, broadly smiling at him. "Now, do you have the small silver key I gave you for Christmas?" Snape curtly nodded, and he added, "Good, you'll need to cast a blood spell on the book and on the key, so that only you can open and read it. I don't want anyone finding out about it."

"Dumbledore knows you're a parselmouth, Orion," interjected Snape sternly. "If he found out about this book, he wouldn't be surprised that you had found Slytherin's journals and translated them." He pierced him with his deep, black eyes. "Where _did_ you find Slytherin's journals?"

Orion waved a hand dismissively. "That's not important." He intently gazed at the wizard, and added crisply, "Yes, Dumbledore knows that I'm a parselmouth because the traitorous rat Pettigrew blabbed about it, but the old coot has never talked to me about my parseltongue ability." He heavily sighed. "I know that he knows, and he knows that I know, but he has never addressed the matter; as with so many other things… We're like two chess opponents, each with their secret tactics, wondering what the other will do and what the other knows or suspects, but never openly discussing it, just trying to outsmart the other."

Snape snorted, smirking at him. "Yes, that's how Dumbledore plays. That's how the Dark Lord plays with Dumbledore, as well."

"Hmpf," grumbled Orion, "but at least Voldemort gets to attempt to kill the old coot whenever they see each other. On the other hand, I see Dumbledore constantly and I have to behave like a good little boy."

He shook his head and straightened away from the desk, before he intently gazed at Snape. "Keep it secret, keep it safe, and blood-spell it." The older wizard curtly nodded, and Orion stepped closer to him, saying quietly, "There's one more thing. When you finish reading it, I want you to replicate Slytherin's experiments with modern techniques and potions. I need you to prove his conclusions; all of them, in detail. They'll be useful, later."

Snape's eyebrow shot to his hairline. "You realize, don't you, that it will take me years, perhaps decades? And what would you do with my research? Do you mean for me to publish-"

"Yes, eventually," interrupted Orion curtly. "And it won't necessarily take you years. Once we win the war, you can get your own group of researchers to help you with it."

Snape shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, and he said impassively, "Orion, I will, most probably, not survive the war."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Orion, frowning at him. "Of course you'll survive."

Snape smirked at him. "I'm a triple spy, boy. I spy for Dumbledore, I spy for Voldemort and I spy for you. Eventually, either of them will consider me a traitor, given that my true allegiance is to you. Or, eventually, I won't be of any more use to them, which will signify my imprisonment or death. Furthermore, this task that you're appointing to me will be useless unless the Dark wins, and what makes you believe that it will?"

"It's very simple, Severus," said Orion nonchalantly, "I cannot affirm that the Dark will win but I know that many of us will not rest until it does, many of us will die trying. Therefore, I want you to replicate Slytherin's research in case the Dark wins, and if we lose, it won't matter to me, since I would be dead."

He clasped his guardian's shoulder, and added firmly, "Regardless, by the oath we gave to each other, you know that I'll do anything to protect you as long as I live. You will survive the war, Severus, even if everything blows up in our face and you're discovered. You know that as my ally you'll always count with me, don't you?"

Snape pierced him with a measuring, scrutinizing gaze, and finally curtly nodded.

"Good," said Orion, with a small, satisfied smile. "I'll leave you now, so that you can enjoy your present."

He had not taken two steps towards the door when he heard Snape's voice behind him.

"What about Draco? Are you helping him?"

Orion turned around to face him, and said quietly, "Not yet. The stubborn prat refuses my help, so far."

Snape wearily pinched the bridge of his nose, before he stood up and went around his desk, reaching Orion. He pierced him with his dark, obsidian eyes, and said gravely, "Force him to accept your help. I can see that he's having trouble with his task, though he refuses to tell me anything-"

"Of course he won't tell you anything," interjected Orion, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you know what he told me when I confronted him outside 'Slughorn's' Christmas party? He told me that you would rat on him to Voldemort. He doesn't trust you, Severus. And can you blame him when you're his godfather but you've never taken a personal interest in him during his whole life?"

Snape glowered at him. "I will not have you-"

"Have me what?" snapped Orion crisply. "Tell you the truth, as he sees it? I remember when we were ten-year-old kids. How Draco always wanted me and our friends in common to visit him at Malfoy Manor. I remember how happy he was when we once stayed to have a Quidditch match. Then, I remember how lonely Draco always seemed, with Lucius doing business and always busy with the Ministry, and Narcissa, bless her, trying to spend time with Draco, but also occupied in promoting the Malfoy House in the social circles. And you, his godfather… well, what can I say? You were never there. I never saw you with Draco."

Snape drew up to his full height, and glared down at Orion over his hooked nose, snarling angrily, "I was busy as well, brat. Do I need to remind you all the spying I've been doing during all these years? Nonetheless, I care for my godson-"

"I know you do," interrupted Orion calmly. "I was just pointing out why he won't trust you. It's up to you to remedy the situation when you can."

"Quite," said Snape, his lips a tight line while he narrowed his eyes at him. "Nevertheless, at present, it's you who must help him; it's you who's bounded by the Unbreakable Vow you stupidly took. Thus, I'm asking you to make him accept your help."

Orion heavily sighed. "Alright I will. I was planning on doing it at some point. I might as well talk face-to-face with him today."

"Good, do it," said Snape sharply.

Orion nodded and took a turn to leave, but suddenly, he remembered, and he glanced at his guardian over his shoulder. "Oh, one more thing. Can you come to Black Manor this Saturday at ten in the evening? I'll leave the floo connection open for you and I'll have the wards admit you in."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "For what do you need me?"

"You'll see," said Orion, flashing him with a broad smile. "Just bring your potions with you, and come rested. I'll need your help for many long hours."

"What hare-brained scheme do you have now?" demanded Snape, narrowing his eyes at him. "I won't have you putting your life in jeopardy again. I had enough with saving you from a Manticore's lethal poison."

"You won't be saving anyone, I will," said Orion nonchalantly. "But I'll need your skills in potions, and more importantly, in Legilimency."

Snape darkly scowled at him. "I demand to know what you are planning-"

"You'll understand on Saturday," interrupted Orion, with a small, secretive smile. "I'll see you then, Severus. Enjoy your present."

And with that, he quickly left the room before Snape had a chance to launch a full-scale interrogation session – he didn't put it pass the wizard to try to forcibly dose him with Veritaserum.

He rather have Snape willingly go to Black Manor before knowing that the one whom they'd be helping was none other than his father; hopefully, no longer soulless.

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As soon as he left Snape's office, Orion took out the Marauder's Map, which he always carried with him since he had to constantly check where everyone was when he used the time-turner.

Snape had a valid point, he needed to have a chat with Draco, and he could postpone his task with the Resurrection Stone for a few minutes.

Making sure that no one was around, he tapped his wand on the folded parchment, and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He scanned it carefully. As it was late in the evening, nearly all the students were inside their various common rooms, the Gryffindors in one tower, the Ravenclaws in another, the Slytherins in the dungeons, and the Hufflepuffs in the basement near the kitchens. Here and there a stray person meandered around the library or up a corridor. And then, he saw a dot with the label 'Draco Malfoy', and it wasn't moving.

He kept observing it for a while, and wondered what his friend was doing there for so long, and with such an unlikely company; surely by now, Draco would have left.

Orion sighed and quickly tapped the map to clear it, before he pocketed it. He swiftly cast the parsel-invisibility spell on himself, and dashed up marble staircases and several corridors until he reached the sixth floor.

There, he cancelled his invisibility and reached the boy's bathroom, quietly pushing the door open.

Draco was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink, his platinum-blond head bowed.

"Don't," crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles. "Don't... tell me what's wrong... I can help you…"

"No one can help me," said Draco, his whole body shaking. "I can't do it... I can't... It won't work... and unless I do it soon... he says he'll kill me..."

And Orion realized, with a shock so huge it rooted him to the spot, that Draco was crying -he had never seen his friend crying- tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin.

Draco gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into a cracked mirror and saw Orion staring at him.

Suddenly, he wheeled around, drawing his wand, and instinctively, Orion pulled out his own.

"No! Stop it!" squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. "Don't attack him!"

But her cries were unnecessary, neither of them did anything, and Orion just observed him with wide eyes.

Draco looked pale, with dark shadows under his eyes, his skin had a grayish tinge, probably because he so rarely saw daylight these days, and there was no air of his usual smugness, excitement, or superiority - and that was simply wrong, in Orion's opinion.

"Are you going to curse me, Draco?" said Orion softly, glancing at the wand aimed at him, "Because I'm seeing you like this?"

Draco straightened and angrily wiped his tearful face with his robes' sleeve, instantly pulling a closed off expression over his features. He glowered at Orion, and bit out sharply, "Leave. I want to be alone. You have no business here."

"You fool, you are my business, you're my friend," said Orion quietly, eyeing him carefully. "Why didn't you tell me that the situation was so serious? That you were having so much trouble-"

"I'm fine!" spat Draco, heatedly glaring at him. "I don't need your help. I can manage on my own."

Orion scoffed. "Yeah, I can see that-"

"Don't you dare mention this," snarled Draco, pointing his wand to Orion's face. "I am not weak, whatever you and others might believe! I can do it!"

Orion lowered his wand and pocketed it, sadly gazing at Draco as he said quietly, "I don't think you are weak, Draco. I only think you're stupidly stubborn. I told you that I took the V-"

He clamped his mouth shut, and glanced at the ghost protectively hovering by Draco's side, her watery eyes narrowed menacingly at Orion.

Orion stared at her, and said in a steely tone of voice, "Leave. I want to talk to him alone."

"I'm not leaving him!" said Moaning Myrtle in a high pitch. "He needs me and you'll attack him!"

"Needs you?" snorted Orion snidely. "What can a ghost like you do for him? Nothing at all except wail, sob, and splash water around."

Myrtle puffed herself up, and shrieked, "That's right, let's make fun of poor, mopping, moaning Myrtle! Because she does nothing but sob and wail! Why don't you go on and throw something at me, just to see if I can feel it! Ten points if you get it through my head!"

She looked positively deranged and angrily swooped towards Orion, apparently about to stick her ethereal fist through his head, but his patience quickly vanished, and in an instant, he allowed himself to be suffused with his Necromantic powers.

Orion swiftly seized her throat, piercing her with his all-black eyes, and said in a low, grave voice, "I can touch you, ghost. I can hurt you. Now, leave us or suffer the consequences."

Myrtle's eyes widened in horror as she stared into his glowing all-black eyes, and Orion released her. She let out a terrified wail, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into a toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, leaving a tense silence behind her.

"Your eyes," murmured Draco, staring at him, his eyes wide. "Why are they like this? What did you do?"

"Nothing that matters," said Orion dismissively, swiftly making his Necromantic powers lie quietly inside him, knowing that his eyes got back to normal.

He gazed at Draco, and swiftly cast silencing and anti-spying spells around them, before he said quietly, "I told you about the Unbreakable Vow I took, Draco. Why didn't you tell me that your situation was so desperate as to make you come in here to cry-"

"Don't say it!" hissed out Draco angrily, his wand still aimed at Orion. "This means nothing; I am not useless, I am not weak-"

Orion had enough, and he quickly took some steps and tightly hugged Draco, who stiffened in his arms.

"You idiot," he murmured against Draco's ear, "do you believe that I think that you're weak just because I saw you crying? What you feel is just stress, because of your task. Merlin knows that I've shed my share of tears due to pressure as well. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Draco relaxed in the embrace, and said quietly, "Malfoys don't cry."

"Blacks don't cry either," said Orion, shooting him a broad grin while he loosened his arms. "Yet, here we are."

Draco broke away from the hug, and angrily kicked the door of a bathroom stall. "This is so messed up. I didn't want you to see me like this. My father would sneer at me with contempt if he knew, and I would agree-"

"Nonsense," interjected Orion, grabbing one of Draco's arms, turning him around to face him, "Lucius loves you; he would try to help you, he would understand. Voldemort should have never appointed this task to you. None of the responsibilities we carry should burden our shoulders, Draco. We are just teenagers who are being forced to grow up and shoulder an adult's responsibilities. It's not our fault; it's theirs."

Draco angrily wiped clean his face again, and stiffly nodded.

"Voldemort threatened to kill you," asked Orion, his voice laced with anger, "if you didn't finish fixing the cabinet soon?"

"Call him the Dark Lord, for Merlin's sake!" snapped Draco with a shudder, before he replied worriedly, "And yes, he summoned me yesterday and said he would kill me if I don't accomplish it before the school year ends." He gazed at Orion, and added with deep distress, "He said that he wouldn't break out my father either; that he would let him rot in Azkaban."

"That's an empty threat, Draco," said Orion sternly. "The Dark Lord-" he emphasized the words with annoyance, since it was simply awkward for him to call his spouse by that title "-will need to break out the Death Eaters in Azkaban soon. He'll need them when the war truly erupts, and your father is one of his most skilled Inner Circle Death Eaters. You shouldn't worry about that; Lucius will be freed."

"I realize that," said Draco quietly, "but that doesn't mean that the Dark Lord won't kill me if I fail." He shuddered and clasped his arms around himself. "I think he will do it. Even if the Dark Lord releases my father, I think he'll kill me; to punish me and to punish my father for allowing the group of Death Eaters he was leading to be captured in the Department of Mysteries." He briefly glanced at Orion, and added quietly, "And for having made the marriage contract between us. I think the Dark Lord is still mad because of that, even if he destroyed the contract."

"Yes, you're right," said Orion straightforwardly, since it was better for Draco to be aware of his situation.

Draco glanced away from him, his posture rigid, and he murmured, "So what can I do, Orion? I don't know how to fix the cabinet. I have tried everything and the repairing instructions Borgin sent me are way beyond my comprehension." He shuddered slightly. "I don't understand them. I don't know how to cast the spells to fix the cabinet."

"Then let me help you," said Orion, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder, briefly squeezing. "Take me to see the cabinet and show me the instructions. Together, we'll figure it out."

Draco wanly smiled at him. "You won't understand the instructions either. Everything is written in complicated equations in arithmancy and ancient runes. And I'm much better in those subjects than you are."

"That's not true, my friend," said Orion, grinning at him. "We are excellent in both, and you might be better in Arithmancy but I surpass you in Ancient Runes. Come on, let's take a look, we lose nothing by trying."

Draco drew himself up, and smirked at him. "Alright, let's go. Just because I'll enjoy seeing you scratching that mop you call hair."

"My hair is as fine as yours," scoffed Orion. "And it's even better since it's black, and not the pouf-like platinum of yours."

"You're calling me a pouf?" snorted Draco, arching an eyebrow. "Look who's talking."

"Oh, I admit it proudly," said Orion, broadly smirking at him. "Now, let's get going. You told me you were keeping the cabinet in the Room of Requirements, right?"

"Yeah, if you persist on calling it that," replied Draco, walking towards the exit of the bathroom, "to me it's the Room of Hidden Things, because I had to think about a place in which to conceal the cabinet."

"Alright," said Orion, following him, "but before we step out, I think we should disillusion ourselves. It's better if no one sees us wandering together. Do you know how to cast the Disillusionment Charm?"

"No," said Draco, staring at him, "it's beyond NEWT level."

Orion nodded. The disillusionment charm was, admittedly, a very tough spell to master; he had spent many long hours during several sessions with his Elite to teach them the charm before the break in to Nurmengard.

He wondered if he should offer Draco the Invisibility Cloak, so that his friend could move around the castle undetected. But he soon cast away the idea, since he didn't want to jeopardize a Hallow.

"Okay," said Orion, "I'll cast it on you this time, but make sure to learn it on your own. It's very useful."

"When did you learn how to cast it?" said Draco, arching an eyebrow.

"A while ago," replied Orion, tapping his wand on the platinum-blond head, "out of need, of course. Besides, it shouldn't surprise you; I used it when we took a room in the Leaky Cauldron, when you were angry at me after learning that I was Harry Potter."

"Oh, yeah, you're right."

In a few seconds, he saw Draco disappearing from his sight, and a hand grabbed his.

"Disillusion yourself," said Draco's voice, "and don't release my hand. I don't want to lose you along the way."

"I do know how to get there, you know?" scoffed Orion, but Draco didn't loosen the hold, so he simply rolled his eyes before casting the charm on himself.

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With their hands still clasped together, they finally made it to the seventh floor corridor, and they reached the stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to do ballet.

Orion was pretty excited about the whole thing. His father had often told him about the Room of Requirements but he never had a reason to use it, so this would be his first time, and he was eager to see it.

Draco dragged him to walk three times up and down along the stretch of wall, while muttering, "I need the place where everything is hidden… I need the place where everything is hidden… I need the place where everything is hidden..."

And suddenly, before Orion's eyes, he saw a great door materializing on their third run past.

They quickly went inside and Orion swiftly cancelled their disillusionments. When he glanced around, he gasped, overawed by what he was looking at.

They was standing in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Orion knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants.

There were alleyways and roads bordered by teetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover halfheartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon eggshells, corked bottles whose contents still shimmered evilly, several rusting swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.

Draco smugly smirked at his awed expression and grabbed his hand once again to pull him forwards into one of the many alleyways between all this hidden treasure. They turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, walked on a short way, and finally took a left to stand before a broken cabinet, beside a large cupboard that seemed to have had acid thrown at its blistered surface.

Orion gazed at the cabinet while Draco started talking about it, but he listened half-heartedly; there was something distracting, something tingling on his skin, something with very powerful dark magic nearby.

Puzzled, he glanced around; Draco –now focused on inspecting the cabinet with frustrated scowl on his face- not noticing when he took some steps following the pull of the magic he was sensing.

Orion shivered as he got closer to the source, and he had to stifle a gasp when he recognized the sensation; what he always felt around a horcrux. His eyes widened in shock due to such accidental discovery.

As if in a trance, only feeling the dark magic being emitted, he reached a crate which had on top of it a chipped bust of an ugly old warlock, a dusty old wig and a tarnished tiara.

Slowly, he stretched out a hand towards the objects and then he felt it more strongly, more enticing, something inside him fluttering upwards as if wanting to make a connection; Voldemort's piece of soul inside him recognizing the match.

And his fingers grabbed the tarnished tiara, and there he saw the engraving: '_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_.'

Orion held in a gasp. How many times had he heard Luna saying the famous phrase of Rowena Ravenclaw? This was the diadem Slytherin's portrait had told him about; Ravenclaw's Diadem of Wisdom. The only horcrux he speculated about, since locket Tom and Voldemort had never wanted to tell him what was the last horcrux he hadn't figured out for certain.

Suddenly, everything clicked, like pieces of a puzzle. Tom Riddle had wheedled the location of the lost diadem out of the Gray Lady – Helena Ravenclaw. And Orion knew, thanks to Slytherin's portrait, that Helena had been found by the Bloody Baron in an Albanian forest. Therefore, Tom must have traveled to that far-flung Albanian forest, and retrieved the diadem from its hiding place, perhaps as soon as he left Hogwarts, before he even started work at Borgin and Burkes.

And wouldn't those secluded Albanian woods have seemed an excellent refuge when, so much later, Voldemort's master soul needed a place to lie low, undisturbed, for ten long years? Voldemort himself had told him that he had been in Albania, though, obviously, not disclosing the particulars.

Then, the diadem, once it became Voldemort's precious horcrux, had not been left in the lowly tree Helena had hidden it in... No, the diadem had been returned secretly to its true home, Hogwarts, and Voldemort must have put it there-

"-the night he asked for a job," whispered Orion to himself.

Voldemort hid the diadem in the castle, the night he asked Dumbledore to let him teach. He must have hidden the diadem on his way up to, or down from, Dumbledore's office. But it was well worth trying to get the job, since then he might have gotten the chance to steal Gryffindor's sword as well.

Clever, Voldemort, very clever, as always; what better place to hide it than right under Dumbledore's nose, among heaps of junk.

But what to do with it now?

Orion's fingers jerkily clutched the diadem tighter, as he remember that he had spent all week waking up screaming from his nightly dreams filled with visions. Screaming at the last part, when he saw himself ruthlessly killing Voldemort, saying to his corpse that there was nothing left of him; implying that he had destroyed all the horcruxes already.

He clearly remembered the penetrating emptiness, coldness and detachment of that future self who killed Voldemort; a being which he didn't want to become. Partly, he woke himself up screaming because of those curdling sensations. That future self was, in part, inhuman, with frozen, muted emotions. Already a full-fledged Necromancer, perhaps? Or already too deeply involved in becoming the Vindico at all costs?

Orion fiercely shook his head. Sebastien and the Aux be damned, he wouldn't gather the horcruxes now, not when Voldemort had given him no reason to want to destroy them. He would give the wizard a chance, no matter what the visions showed him.

And he would become the Vindico he wanted to be; devastatingly powerful, cold-hearted and ruthless with his enemies, but still with attachments towards those he cared for.

Since what was the purpose of being powerful to help the Dark and others if he couldn't grasp some modicum of happiness for himself?

He placed the dusty old wig on top of the ugly old warlock statue's head, and then placed the diadem firmly on the wig, to be able to find it later, in case he ever needed to destroy it.

Here, in the Room of Hidden Things, the horcrux will be save from Dumbledore, the Aux, and-

"From myself," whispered Orion, "because I won't act against Voldemort until he gives me reason to."

"What are you doing?" came Draco's voice.

"Nothing," instantly said Orion, glancing at the Diadem of Wisdom one last time before he sharply turned around and reached his friend.


	7. The Black horcrux & the Hunger

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN: **

Hello everyone, thank you very much for your reviews, and now I'm finally going to address some, though other questions will be answered in later chapters. Sorry for taking so long in replying reviews! Oh, but I can't answer the questions about Orion's visions, and his pregnancy or what LV did to him when he obliviated Orion… all that will eventually come up –winks-

Ah, yeah, and I do know that 'mein junge' should be written as 'Mein Junge', but when I reread the chapters I found it very disruptive to see all those capital letters everywhere, it kind of spoiled the flow of my mind's voice when I read, so I decided to leave it without the capital letters. I hope those who are German-speakers will forgive the transgression.

I would like to clarify two points:

1) About the mind link between Orion and Voldie:

The mind link between Voldemort and Orion is, most of times muted, since both of them use Occlumency to block their thoughts from the other, but in cases when one of them is feeling violent, intense emotions, then these will filter through the mental barriers, and the other would feel the emotions, given that Orion is LV's horcrux; as happens when Orion sometimes get glimpses of what LV is doing. Nevertheless, the emotions have to be very strong, like when Orion saw Lezander alive. Though the duel with Grindelwald rattled him, he didn't feel intense emotional angst or such, so it's probable, given that Orion always has his Occlumency shields up, that LV didn't feel anything. Regardless, it's important to remember that Orion notices that Voldemort senses his emotions because Voldemort becomes angered, letting the anger travel through the link, giving pain to Orion through the lightning bolt scar. Voldemort does this on purpose. It doesn't mean, however, that LV hasn't felt Orion's feelings in other circumstances without letting Orion know. Perhaps LV felt Orion's emotions during his duel with Grindelwald, but decided not to let Orion know about it, or perhaps he didn't think that Orion's emotions were suspicious or interesting enough… For now, we have no way to know how much LV is sensing.

2) About Orion's characerization and his relationship with Voldie:

I'm trying to keep Orion as much 'in character' as I can, always remembering that he is canon Harry, just with a different twist in his early life, which inevitably has made him colder and tougher. And Orion has killed before: he did nothing to prevent Neville being killed, and he killed Crouch Sr., Vernon Dursley, and Peter Pettigrew, but he had reason to hate those he killed, and he killed them without regrets, but killing someone he likes and cares for, like his mentor Grindelwald, is bound to cause him inner conflict, though he's already determined to do it eventually. Orion still has some of Harry's personality traits and I think it wouldn't be believable if he turned into a Lord Voldemort all of a sudden. He's still caring towards those he loves, though he can ruthlessly kill and torture when needed. As he keeps growing up, experiencing tougher things, he'll change, but I really can't say how much.

As for Orion's and Voldemort's relationship –grins-. LV isn't someone who's going to allow his spouse to take the place that he's been working to attain for decades, and he won't be happy to discover that Orion is more powerful than him, and that Orion's is supposed to be the leader of the Dark. I certainly can't see him accepting all of this with impassivity, that wouldn't be Voldemort at all. But we'll have to see how it unravels. And even though they became spouses as equals, Orion often had to cunningly make Voldemort accept what he wanted to do. To avoid confrontation, Orion either didn't tell him his plans or eventually persuaded Voldemort to allow him to do what he wished. And true, if they were equals, Orion shouldn't need to be doing all that, but the matter is that Voldemort has been in control because he's simply more powerful than Orion, and Orion chose cunning to avoid confrontation against someone who could kill him. Nevertheless, that was true before, but not now that Orion has finally learned to control his dark magic, at last becoming as powerful –or more- as wizards such as Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Voldemort. In the next chapters we'll definitely see how this changes Orion's way of dealing with Voldemort, now that he knows that he could take him on.

And I think that it's true that Voldemort regarded Orion as a priced possession, with power, good looks, and good in bed, but it slowly changed as Voldemort made Orion become involved in his plans, telling him about the Mayan Stone and inviting him to form part of the Dark Allies. I don't see how Voldemort would have taken a chance of disclosing to Orion what he intends to do with the Mayan Stone if the wizard didn't consider Orion to be more than his pet. In his own way, Voldemort has given Orion a fair treatment as equals, considering that Voldemort isn't one who easily trusts or yields. I think it's important to remember that no matter how dominating and controlling Voldemort is in their relationship, he has yielded to Orion in several things Orion asked of him; he merged back with a horcrux when he lost his human appearance after making one more horcrux –which became Orion's Slytherin heirloom wedding band, he's taking the time to study the Mayan Stone, he stopped allowing Greyback to bite and kill children, he stopped allowing his allied Dementors to Kiss those they attacked, he's left the Gaunt ring in Orion's possession for a very long time even when Orion refused to tell him what he wanted to do with it besides transferring the piece of soul, he eventually 'allowed' Orion to attend Durmstrang during the weekends to keep having Necromancy only asking to be informed of Orion's plan to confront the dementor –something which Orion hasn't told him about, and he knows that Orion has discovered something about himself in Durmstrang, because Orion admitted it, though he didn't press for it further when Orion refused to say anything else.

All in all, given who Voldemort is, all these concessions are huge for him. True, Orion has also yielded many times, but my point is that their relationship might seem unbalanced, but truly isn't that much considering how Voldemort is. It doesn't mean, though, that they will become a fluffly happy couple, I cannot see that happening, their relationship will always be rocky and dangerous, but that's part of the thrill Orion gets from it, as he has admitted sometimes. And you have a good point, most of times Voldemort does whatever he wants in the end, but so does Orion, he hasn't stopped his plans because of Voldemort, he'll still confront the Dementor, however Voldemort might oppose that decision, and he still wants to become the Vindico, even knowing that it could imply that he'll have to kill LV in the end. Right now, he's trying to find other ways, but not because LV controls his actions and thoughts, simply because he's still in love with the wizard. And that's something that I could imagine canon Harry doing if he was in Orion's shoes; not giving up while trying to keep those he loves.

Now, about what Voldemort could have done to Orion when he obliaviated the boy; true, the man might have done something invasive and underhanded to enforce his will upon Orion, even knowing how Orion would feel about those actions, but we still don't know LV's reasons for doing it, and in his own warped mind, he might consider that he truly did it for Orion's benefit. Voldemort's actions will never be those of the classical noble man in love; they have to be evaluated considering who Voldemort is, since what might seem evil and ruthless could very well be Voldemort's own way of caring for Orion.

Anyway, in conclusion, Orion is acting like a dark wizard and the Vindico he wants to be, but still retaining some personality traits of canon Harry, since Orion is Harry with a different life. He'll still value more the lives of those he loves than the gathering of power, though, this might change, as the visions foretell. He might come to realize that he has to sacrifice much if he wants to become the Vindico, and as you say, becoming the Vindico will become more important than clinging to the hope that he can spare his spouse. But for now, at least, he's trying to have both things, though he now accepts the probability of Voldemort doing something inexcusable, and therefore, he has begun to prepare himself for the eventuality of having to destroy the horcruxes – still in character by wanting to give LV a fair chance in their confrontation, if it were to happen.

We will see all of these issues unraveling as the story continues.

**Note**: I've uploaded several new pictures –really good ones- in the yahoo group for the Black Heir, courtesy of Elysium90 – thanks again for sending me the pics, Elysium!-

**Enjoy & Review!**

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**Chapter 7**

Orion went back to stand before the broken cabinet and, immediately, Draco handed him a heavy scroll, with a frustrated scowl on his face.

"These are the repairing instructions I got from Borgin."

Orion nodded and unrolled it… and kept unrolling and unrolling until the scroll became a parchment several feet long, crammed with spidery scrawls of enchantments, arithmetic equations and ancient runic symbols.

His eyebrows shot to his hairline as his gaze travelled along the instructions, and he croaked, "This is very complicated. I don't understand half of it."

"I told you so," huffed Draco, crossing his arms over his chest.

Orion shook his head and murmured under his breath as he kept reading the absurdly lengthy instructions, his mind reeling due to such complex spells.

"One has to use both light and dark spells to fix it," he mused aloud, while he kept scanning the parchment. He looked up at Draco. "It's Spatial Transformation, way beyond NEWT level Transfiguration and Charms. Have you searched the library for books on these subjects in an advanced level?"

"Of course I have, that's the first thing I did," said Draco sharply, looking indignantly offended. "I found some books that can help me with the light spells but I didn't find any for the dark spells. I even broke into the Restricted Section, but I couldn't find any book that could help me, they weren't advanced enough."

Orion nodded, he knew perfectly well that Hogwart's Restricted Section only contained books which were very mild and basic in comparison to real tomes of Dark Arts subjects. He could find some books in Durmstrang's library that could help them, but the problem was that the books couldn't be taken out of Durmstrang. The school's heavy wards prevented that from happening, since Durmstrang had always been very secretive and possessive of the knowledge it imparted. Therefore, Durmstrang's library was useless to him since Draco needed to read the books for himself. He couldn't afford to do all that research on his own, he was busy with his own tasks.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up when he remembered where he had seen advanced books on these subjects. He hadn't had the time to read them, but he clearly remembered them when sorting them out from the stack of books he had selected to read in his fourth year.

He smirked at Draco, handing him the scroll. "I know where we can find books that will help you understand the instructions. I'm going to take you to a secret place that will blow your knickers away, Malfoy."

Draco's drawl, especially engineered for jaded boredom and cool indifference, was laced with just the merest hint of involuntary interest. "Really, Black? Where are you going to take me?"

"You'll see," said Orion, grinning at him. "Get your broomstick, I'll get mine and we'll meet at the girls' bathroom of the second floor."

Draco scoffed. "You're taking me to the girls' bathroom? How is that going to help?" He arched an eyebrow, and added with a leering smirk, "Unless you literally meant that you were going to blow away my knickers, Orion. What – do you want to do the nasty deed in the bathroom?"

"You prat," said Orion, companionably punching Draco on the arm, smirking at him, "if I wanted to shag you I would take you someplace befitting a Malfoy, not to a stinking bathroom."

"As if I would let you shag me," scoffed Draco, his silvery eyes alight, intently boring into his. "I don't bottom, Black. I would be the one shagging you."

"Yeah, yeah. Enough bantering, let's go," said Orion with a roll of his eyes, grabbing Draco's hand while he casted the disillusionment charm on them once again.

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Orion was waiting inside the girls' bathroom of the second-floor, still under the disillusionment charm. He had parted ways with Draco so that each could go to their respective dorms to collect their brooms, and he had also taken the opportunity of pocketing from his trunk the half-filled vial with the Felix Felicis potion – it was time to give it to Draco, so that the young wizard could use it to fix the cabinet.

"Are you here?" said a disembodied voice.

"Yes," replied Orion at once, tapping his wand on his head to cancel his invisibility. "Where are you? Lead my hand to your head, so that I can cancel your disillusionment."

After a few seconds, he felt someone grabbing his left hand and placing it on a smooth mass of silky hair. He tapped his wand on the invisible head, and instantly saw Draco appear before his eyes. His friend seemed intrigued, though he was masking it well.

"So, we are in a girls' bathroom, fascinating," drawled Draco sarcastically, eyeing their damp, watery surroundings with distaste.

Orion shot him a broad smirk, before he cast silencing and anti-spying spells around them. He went to the sink and his fingers caressed a side of one of the copper taps, feeling the curled snake engraved in it, and he hissed, _"Open."_

He heard Draco gasping in a hitched breath when, at once, the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; in fact, it sank, right out of sight, leaving a large wide pipe exposed.

He turned to Draco and shot him a smug smirk, seeing the boy's wide eyes glinting with fascinated excitement.

"This must be the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, it's not a myth," whispered Draco in awe. "You found it – when?"

"Calypso and I discovered it during our fourth year."

Draco's eyes snapped to his, and he said angrily, sounding hurt, "And you didn't tell me? Calypso knew but you decided that I wasn't trustworthy enough?"

"No, you idiot," said Orion calmly, "it's not a matter of trust. I wouldn't be showing it to you now if I didn't trust you, and I'm taking a huge risk as it is." He arched an eyebrow, and added pointedly, "You are a Death Eater now; you're in constant contact with the Dark Lord. If he discovers that I've showed you this, he won't be happy. So remember to occlude this from him."

Draco stiffened, before he curtly nodded, and Orion was at least confident that his friend could conceal this memory from Voldemort if the wizard didn't dig in too deep. Draco had told him that Bellatrix had taught him Occlumency, and he knew that his friend had become proficient in it. He only hoped that Voldemort wouldn't have a reason to subject Draco to a real Legilimency attack because not even the best would be able to stand it; well, with the exception of Severus. Though, Voldemort wouldn't want to damage Draco much, since he still needed the boy to carry out his task, so if the wizard tried Legilimency, it would be mild, and Draco could withstand that. Moreover, there was no other way; Draco needed the books held in Slytherin's private library, so they would have to take the chance, and he would have to be prepared to save Draco if Voldemort decided to brutally break in his mind, which wasn't likely.

"Let's unshrink our brooms and go inside," said Orion, as he plucked out the tiny Firebolt from his pocket and swiftly tapped it with his wand to restore it to its original size.

He was able to apparate directly into Slytherin's private chambers because he was partly Slytherin's heir thanks to the Potter blood he carried, but he couldn't take others along-side the apparition, so they would have to take the long route in.

Once he saw that Draco was holding his own unshrunk broom, he stood at the edge of the pitch-black abyss created by the huge pipe, gesturing to Draco to do the same.

"You must fly in first," he said to him. "Wait for me to close the entrance and then you'll follow my lead as we fly through the pipe. Alright?"

Draco nodded, his silvery eyes alight with eagerness, and he immediately mounted his broom and plunged inside the wide pipe, hovering in mid air after having descended some feet.

Immediately, Orion mounted his Firebolt and entered the pipe, hovering for a bit as he hissed, _"Clossse."_

At once, the circle of light above him disappeared as the sink got back into place, darkness sweeping all around them. He swiftly flicked his fingers to wandlessly cast a luminescent ball of light in front of him, before his hand grasped the broom handle again.

"Let's go," he said to Draco, before he dived down the pipe, with the sphere of light following them, allowing them to dexterously fly along the twisting and branching pipe.

Orion was glad that Draco was an excellent flier, since he couldn't have done this with Calypso; with her, they had to slide down the steep, slimy passage. Furthermore, it seemed that his friend was thoroughly enjoying himself, since he heard an exhilarated cry of laughter behind him.

They flew at an alarming speed, turning and twisting as they fell deeper into the foundations of the school. And then, the pipe leveled out and they came shooting out of it, flying forwards along the damp, stone tunnel.

As they flew around a bend in the tunnel, Orion saw flash by the gigantic basilisk skin that Calypso had once harvested for potion ingredients. It was now shriveled and shrunk, not of the vivid, poisonous green of years before.

"Here we stop," he said over his shoulder, as they approached a solid wall ahead.

He swiftly dismounted his Firebolt, shrinking and pocketing it, seeing Draco doing the same with his broom.

"Uck, disgusting," said Draco with a scrunched nose, as he glanced at the grimy heaps of skeletons of devoured small animals.

Paying him no mind, Orion stood in front of the wall, intently observing the two carved, entwined serpents with glinting emeralds for eyes, and he hissed, _"Open."_

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves smoothly sliding out of sight, and he walked inside, Draco trailing after him.

Draco gasped in awe, and Orion observed him with a small smile on his face, while his friend's wide silvery eyes took in the dimly lit chamber with towering stone pillars of entwined carved snakes which supported the arched, high ceilings, casting long, black shadows along the greenish gloom that filled the room.

"Then the rumors about what happened during my second year are all true?" said Draco excitedly, glancing around the chamber. "Where's the body of the Weasley chit? Didn't the monster of this place kill her?"

Orion scoffed. "Hardly. Orssana ate the Weasley girl long after she was dead."

"Orssana? Who's that?" said Draco, snapping his head around to look at him.

"Why, Slytherin's basilisk, of course," said Orion, smirking at him.

Draco instantly whipped out his wand, his stance alert while he glanced around, though Orion could detect a thrill of anticipation in him. It would never cease to amuse him how Draco could adore nasty, dangerous, reptilian creatures such as dragons and basilisks, while despising, and secretly fearing, mundane creatures such as blast-ended skrewts and hippogriffs. When they had been in separate schools, he had frequently received long letters from Draco complaining about the Weasel, the Mudblood, Fatbottom, and the half-breed oaf Hagrid and his sodding beasts.

Orion pulled his mind away from old, fond reminiscences, and said smugly, "You don't have to worry about Orssana; she knows that she has to come to me with her inner eyelids closed when I call for her. Thus, her lethal gaze won't hurt us."

Draco's eyes snapped to his, and he said in wonder, "The basilisk obeys you? You're a parselmouth but not Slytherin's Heir, why would she-"

But Orion didn't let him finish, he quickly moved forward along the wide expanse of stone floors flanked by the serpentine columns, hearing Draco's footsteps echoing off the shadowy chamber, trailing after him.

Finally, he stood before the magnificent, looming statue of a full-bodied Salazar Slytherin standing against the back wall, and he hissed loudly, _"Greatest of the Hogwarts Four, embrace your heir!"_

He heard Draco draw in a sharp intake of breath, and he glanced at him, arching an eyebrow when he saw that Draco's cheeks were flushing.

Orion inwardly grinned. So Draco had a thing for parseltongue, did he?

He glanced back to the statue, while savoring how he could use that tasty piece of information, and he saw several things happening simultaneously, as expected. Slytherin's arms, which had been crossed over his chest, slowly untwined and with a scrunching noise, the stone arms moved forward, until the elbows were beside the body and the forearms were extended towards Orion, hands open and palms up. The great circular stone door that had been previously hidden behind the crossed arms, was now visible and it started rotating to a side, leaving the entrance open. At the same time, Slytherin's statue's mouth had opened, and from it, emerged Orssana, sliding down to the floor, the sound of her scales rubbing against stone echoing in the chamber.

He could see Draco excitedly rocking on his feet as the magnificent basilisk steered her head to look down at them from her impressive height.

"_Master,"_ hissed Orssana, flicking out her tongue to taste the air around him, _"you are visiting me again, at last. I have been very lonely… waiting… bored… Are you here to finally command me to eat those of impure blood?"_

"_Er, no, sorry, not this time,"_ said Orion, chuckling under his breath. He jerked his head towards Draco, and hissed, _"This is Draco Malfoy, a friend-"_

"_Ah, yes,"_ she hissed, sliding her long tail to wrap it around Draco's feet, earning her a startled yelp from said boy, as she flicked out her tongue to taste the air around him, _"I smell pure blood in him… but he looks tasty." _She reared up her head to stare at Orion, and said eagerly, _"Is he a gift? Can I eat him, Master?"_

Orion let out a bark of laughter, and Draco whipped his head around to look at him, and demanded sharply, while frantically trying to disengage himself from the basilisk tail which kept coiling around him, "What is she saying? What is she doing? Tell her to stop, damn it!"

"She thinks you're a treat," said Orion, sniggering. "She thinks you're tasty. I believe she's infatuated with you; you've become her new prey."

"A treat?" shrieked Draco indignantly. "I am a Malfoy, not a bloody snack!" He wildly wiggled his legs, trying to break free from Orssana's tightening hold, before he darkly glowered at Orion, and snapped angrily, "Tell her to release me!"

Orion smirked at him. "Oh, but I do like to see you squirming, Draco. You look very fetching."

"I look – what?" blustered Draco, his color rising as he became increasingly angered and frenzied, while the basilisk's tail kept wrapping around him, now above his waist.

When he saw that Draco was about to cast a curse at Orssana, who was now licking her sharp teeth with her forked tongue, Orion finally hissed in between snickers, "_Leave him alone, Orssana. He's not for you to eat. He's my friend and I want to take him to Slytherin's quarters."_

The basilisk glanced at him, and hissed with deep disappointment, "_If that's your will, Master…"_

"_It is,"_ said Orion, chuckling. _"Release him, please. I do believe he's about to have a stroke."_

"_Oh… as you command, Master," _hissed Orssana, looking extremely dissatisfied while she uncoiled her large tail from Draco, shooting him a last, longing glance.

Finally, when Draco was released, he instantly rounded on Orion, towering over him, and snarled menacingly, "Thought that was funny, did you? I'm going to make you pay for that, Black, you hear?"

"Are you?" said Orion unfazed, arching an eyebrow. He devilishly smirked at him, and took a step to be inches away from him, while he silkily hissed, _"What are you going to do to me, Draco? What would a Slytherin like you do to a pseudo Gryffindor like me?"_

"What – what are you saying?" spluttered Draco, looking flustered, his pale cheeks flushing in a deep red.

Orion's smirk widened, and he nuzzled Draco's neck, flicking out his tongue to lick the shell of the boy's ear, as he purred in a low hiss, "_You have a little fetish for parseltongue, don't you? I bet you love to hear me hissing like this… Does it arouse you, Draco?"_

"What are you doing?"shrieked Draco in alarm, pushing him back, looking hot and bothered, his handsome, aristocratic face deeply flushed.

Orion pulled away, laughing loudly before he widely grinned at him. "I was just having a bit of fun. There's no reason to panic."

"A bit of fun? And I wasn't panicking!" spluttered Draco furiously, glowering at him, while he surreptitiously rearranged his robes to cover his arousal. He imperiously lifted his chin, and spat angrily, "Well, I don't think it's funny and I'm not here for your amusement, Black. Let me tell you that-"

"Come, come, Draco, be a good sport, I was just trying to lighten the mood," said Orion, sniggering, while he grabbed the boy's hand. "Let's go. We're taking a ride on Orssana. She'll lift us to the entrance of Slytherin's private quarters. There's a library there-"

"Slytherin's quarters?" interrupted Draco, his silvery eyes glinting with excitement, all past grievances forgotten. "Salazar Slytherin had secret quarters in here?"

"Yep," said Orion, smirking smugly. "And there's a library where you'll find books that will help you understand Borgin's instructions. That's why I wanted to bring you here." He pulled him forwards with him. "Let's go, both of us have much to do. _Orssana, please lift us to Slytherin's private quarters."_

"_Yes, Master,"_ hissed Orssana, at once lowering her head to the ground.

Deftly, Orion climbed behind her head, pulling Draco to seat behind him, and the basilisk slowly started to rise until one third of her body was pressed against Slytherin's statue, the rest supporting her on the floor. She inclined her head when they reached the statue's chest and Orion took a small leap from her head into the opening, Draco immediately following him.

Orion glanced down at the basilisk, and hissed warmly, _"Thanks again, my friend. I won't be seeing you soon, since I'm always apparating directly into Slytherin's quarters, but if I have time I'll try to visit you."_

"_Thank you, Master,"_ hissed Orssana softly. _"I'll await for you… I get very lonely without a mate… Tom promised to get me a mate…"_

"_Yeah, I know,"_ said Orion, sighing. _"But honestly, I don't think he'll come through with that. He's very busy at present. Someday, perhaps, Orssana. Ah, and remember, the order still stands that you can't attack any students. Understood?"_

"_Yes, my Master,"_ hissed Orssana, with a hint of resignation.

Orion shot her one last smile, and pulled Draco with him inside the room, while he flourished his wand, and said, "Lux!"

Instantly, all the torches on the walls burst with light and the candelabra hanging from the arched ceiling ignited. With his hand still grasping Draco's, he pulled him to stand in the middle of the grand circular room that had several plush dark emerald couches, a couple of armchairs and tables, and it's walls covered by three-story shelves filled with books.

"This is amazing," whispered Draco, letting go of Orion's hand as he started to explore the shelves upon shelves of books, his eyes glinting with fascination and greedy eagerness. "They are mostly books on the Dark Arts… and look, here's one called the Dark Side of Transfiguration… another of Charms: Explained and Unrestricted… uhmm… Ah! Arithmetic Equations for the Spatial Thinker…"

"Yes, I'm sure you'll find the books you need," said Orion hastily. He gestured towards one of the tables, and added, "There're quills, ink and parchment there, so that you can take notes, because the books can't be taken out of this place. The wards won't allow it-"

Draco snapped his head around to look at him, and said irked, "You've been keeping this treasure of knowledge all to yourself?" He crossed his arms over his chest, shooting him a hurt glare. "You could have shared it with me – your best friend!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sharing it with you now, aren't I?" snapped Orion impatiently. "Besides, remember that you aren't supposed to know about this place. So do your research now, because I don't think that I'll have time to bring you here again."

"What – you aren't going to help me research?" said Draco, with a hint of disappointment.

"No," replied Orion shortly. "You can manage perfectly well on your own. I'll be in the study. I have things to do-"

"What do you have to do?" interrupted Draco, arching a curious eyebrow.

"I'll be busy with dangerous stuff," said Orion in clipped tones, "which are none of your business. So don't come in, wait until I'm done and come out." He pierced the young wizard with his eyes, and added sharply, "Whatever you hear – yells, screams, wails of pain – don't come in."

Draco's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "What in Merlin's name are you going to do-"

"That's no concern of yours!" snapped Orion. "Do as I tell you, it's for your own protection."

Draco huffed, though he soon waved his hand dismissively, and drawled indifferently, "Very well, go do your things, I'll be much too busy here, anyway."

"Good," said Orion tersely. "I'll see you in some hours."

And he quickly turned on his heels, opening the fourth door, entering Slytherin's study. He firmly shut it behind him, casting a powerful locking charm and a silencing spell for good measure, and he approached the large, ornate mahogany desk, with Cadmus' journal and the Resurrection Stone lying on the middle.

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Orion was seated on the high, plush armchair, behind the desk, with one of the journals of Salazar Slytherin opened at the page in which the creation of a soul's anchor on Earth was described, and beside it, Sylvester Slytherin's parseltongue book on 'Parsel Rituals for the Soul', where Slytherin's grandson finished describing the creation of a horcrux, with all the necessary spells hidden among other rituals, though horcrux-making didn't require parsel-spell casting.

He had reread countless times all the useful passages of those books, careful of reading every single detail in order to not commit any catastrophic mistake. And after hours of revising, he was ready.

Now, his forehead was creased in intense focus and concentration as he reread the most important spell he was going to use, his fingers unwittingly caressing the smooth skin covering Cadmus' journal, while the page he was reading softly fluttered, expanding and contracting with the journal, as if it were breathing lung.

He was once again completely immersed in Cadmus' writing, feeling, as usual, the sentiments poured by the wizard when writing the passages, his lips soundlessly moving as he read, his mind foggy with alien emotions, his heart pounding with their intensity.

With fierce determination, Orion briefly closed his eyes, allowing himself to be utterly infused by his Necromantic powers. Instantly, he felt them rising and enveloping him like a cold, thick mantle, and he snapped open glowing, all-black eyes.

He traced a fingertip along the page of Cadmus' journal, and he read aloud the Necromantic welsh incantation created by the wizard, ""Tywyll anrhegu mi y cyfoeth am y Trais am Marwolaeth…"

The chanting rose and fell in measured waves, steady as a sacred drum for marking the rhythm of the intonation. It felt like a vibration more than a sound, he felt it snaking its tendrils inside him, his dark magic rising and twirling with his Necromantic powers… The words seemed to enter his very being, making his Necromantic powers violently agitate and stir, like a simmering cauldron about to burst.

Having practiced it countless times, he spread his right hand before him, and finally said, "Anrhegu mi y Llaw am Marwolaeth!"

And suddenly, a burst of black light briefly obscured his vision, and he felt a burning spreading from his torso, to his right arm, and finally to his fingers. Then, being encompassed by all-surging waves of power, he saw his right hand glowing in eerie blackness; Llaw am Marwolaeth, the Hand of Death – the spell Cadmus had used to manipulate souls; the spell he used in his visions to destroy the last of Voldemort's pieces of soul.

A shudder ran down his spine, the power feeling unnatural, his body now shivering in the coldness which seemed to permeate the room.

Wasting no time, his all-black eyes gazed at the Gaunt ring encrusted with the Resurrection Stone, and he flicked his wand at it, making the ring float in mid air.

Sucking in a breath, he raised his right hand, which emanated a dark glow, towards it, and quickly, he pushed his Necromantic powers outwards, pouring through his fingertips, creating a phantasmagorical black hand of vibrating power which emulated the movements of his own hand. As he kept pouring out his magic, he saw the black Hand of Death trembling and expanding, growing as wide as his own body.

Fiercely, he threw his own hand forward, sinking his fingers in the air, as if grasping something, and he saw the black hand of Necromantic magic doing the same, plunging into the Resurrection Stone. He tightened his fingers around something, feeling as though he was sensing through the black hand of magic; feeling he was wrapping his fingers around something strong and alien, something which didn't want to be disturbed. He felt Voldemort's piece of soul rising inside him, recognizing a match nearby, and with great effort, his forehead covered by sheen of sweat, his extended arm trembling, he wrapped the fingers of the Hand of Death around the piece of soul inside the Resurrection Stone, and he started to pull it out.

He felt it struggling, pushing back at him, attacking the Necromantic magic of the hand that was trying to jerk it away from its home, and Orion gritted his teeth together and rushed outwards more glowing blackness of magic, filling and strengthening the Hand of Death. He mercilessly tightened its fingers around the piece of soul, biting his lips to held in a scream of pain as he felt shocks of it running through his arm, into his core, as the soul attacked the Hand of Death with its own dark magic, making Orion feel as if the attack was against him, since the Hand of Death was a projection of his own Necromantic powers. And finally, with his lips dripping blood, still bitten down by his teeth, he fisted the Hand of Death and he yanked out the soul.

A loud sucking sound exploded in the room, hurtling waves blasting along, making Orion stagger backwards due to its impacting force, the ring dropping to the floor just when a shrieking wail loudly resounded through the room as the piece of soul was plucked out of the Resurrection Stone.

Quickly, Orion regained his balance, maintaining the control on his Necromantic magic that formed the Hand of Death, which was now grasping something. The soul was a morphed thing of whitish light, twisting and screaming, with the barely recognizable appearance of a seventeen-year-old Tom Riddle, too distorted as it struggled inside the grasp of the Hand of Death, the black fingers of magic tightly gripping it.

Orion's knees almost buckled under the strain of keeping the Hand of Death powerful and alive with the outpour of his Necromantic magic, but he forced himself to stand resolute while he expanded the Hand of Death, seeing it grow and vibrate until it covered the whole piece of soul, muffling the wails and eerie screams, making it form a sphere of blackness containing the soul… like in his dreams…

He shook his head, pushing away the stabbing remembrance of his visions, and he quickly brandished his wand with his unoccupied left hand, aiming at the distorted whitish form which could still be seen through the orb of blackness, and he roared, "Anima tranferatu em essencia!"

Instantly, a beam of bright yellow light crossed the sphere of black Necromantic powers, and it struck and enveloped the piece of soul inside. The warped soul became calmly still and silent, floating in the yellow luminescence inside the orb, prepared to be transferred into somewhere else.

With tired, glowing, all-black eyes, Orion gazed at what would become the new home for the piece of soul.

For the purpose of transferring Voldemort's piece of soul into a worthy receptacle, he had, some weeks ago, sent a letter to Urgrock, asking the old goblin to owl-post him an heirloom he had briefly glanced at when he had gone into the Black vault, when he had found there 'Corelus Pommel's' journal – Cadmus Peverell's journal.

The Black heirloom now laid on top of the desk; an exquisite silver chain with a pendant encrusted with small emeralds, surrounding an ornate 'B' made with inlaid black sapphires.

Orion flicked his wand at it, casting a nonverbal charm to make it float in mid air. He had his right hand extended, still controlling the Hand of Death which had become the orb containing the soul, and his left hand was gripping his true wand -the pure white wand Gregorovicth had named as the Death and Life wand, since it had a double core of basilisk venom and phoenix tears. Then, he started moving it in intricate patterns through the air, casting layer upon layer of dark spells which would prepare the Black heirloom to become the new horcrux.

He didn't know how many minutes or hours had passed, but he finally reached the end of the ritual detailed in Sylvester Slytherin's book, and he casted the last spell to make the heirloom the new home for the piece of soul, heavily warded to contain and protect the soul.

Orion relaxed his right hand, making the orb of black Necromantic magic return to the original shape of the Hand of Death, and the black fingers of magic slightly loosened its tight grasp around the ravaged soul, while he directed the black hand towards the floating heirloom.

Abruptly, when it passed in front of him, the distorted soul started to fiercely struggle against the black fingers of magic which held it, a loud wail with a hint of longing and frustration echoing bizarrely around the room.

"NO! I don't want that pendant… You… you!"

Orion gasped when the soul spoke, and with wide eyes he gazed at the distorted figure of the teenage Tom Riddle, who kept fighting with all its might to break free. He involuntarily took a step forward, feeling an inexorable strong pull towards the soul; the piece of soul inside him now fiercely rising and vibrating, burningly yearning to merge with its partner, compelling him to do so.

"No, you can't merge with me, Tom," gritted out Orion through clenched teeth, taking a step back while he used all the strength and power he could muster to tighten the Hand of Death's fingers around the piece of soul.

"You know me?" demanded the distorted Tom Riddle, still mightily struggling, as if wanting to plunge right into him. "Let me inside you… you feel familiar… your magic… I won't hurt you… I'll make you powerful, boy!"

"I know you, but I don't want you inside me," said Orion quietly, feeling a pang of sorrow as he gazed at the ravaged piece of soul with the distorted appearance of the young Tom Riddle; the once handsome face now grossly etched, as if it had been massacred by a knife.

"FREE ME - LET ME INSIDE YOU!" shouted the distorted Tom Riddle, madly twisting and pushing against the fingers of Necromantic magic which held him tight. His voice lowered to a beseeching, soft voice. "You know me, let me be with you, boy… I can give you great magical abilities… I can make you powerful… let me share your body… you won't regret it… I promise…"

Orion shot him a sad, tired smile. "No smooth talk will convince me, Tom. Indeed, I know you too well for that. I'm giving you a new home. I'm not trying to hurt or destroy you-"

"I don't want a new receptacle!" yelled Tom Riddle madly. "I want you… you already have something of me inside you… I can feel it!" His voice turned caressingly soft, as he tried to extend a phantasmagorical pleading hand towards him. "How can you refuse? Don't shut me in an object… It's dark and cold… I want to feel alive… please… I want to have a body… It's been too long… please, don't trap me in an object…"

"I can't! I will not have you posses me as if I were a flesh and bone puppet-"

"No! I wouldn't do that," said Tom Riddle instantly. "There's another like me in you, I feel it… if you let me in, I would merge with it, and I would be strong enough to talk to you in your mind… but I wouldn't posses you, promised… I would teach you wonderful things… I can make you powerful beyond your dreams… I could be your secret friend…"

"You were my friend, my confidant, my companion," said Orion, sadly smiling at him. "But I can't let you merge with me. You should merge with your true self, with Voldemort-"

"You know about him?" gasped out Tom, his distorted whitish mouth agape, before he clamped it shut and said quietly, "So I truly accomplished it – I became Lord Voldemort, I still exist?"

Orion nodded, and Tom whispered, "Who are you?"

"I'm someone who befriended your locket horcrux when I was ten years old," replied Orion quietly, gazing at him with a pang of longing for he resembled so much to locket Tom, but he also felt sorrow and anger at what Voldemort had done to himself; this wasn't right, the pieces of soul suffering like this. His glowing all-black eyes softened as he stared at the hazy, distorted Tom Riddle, and he said softly, "I'm someone who truly loves you, Tom... I'm your spouse."

And without giving him time to utter a single word, Orion slammed the Hand of Death into the Black heirloom, sinking Tom Riddle's piece of soul into the pendant. And he swiftly brandished his wand in his left hand, yelling, "Forza de vita encapsulae!"

Instantly, the pendant violently vibrated, shooting a blaze of black beams around the room, the floating chain wildly flipping in the air, as if rocked by fierce winds.

The force of the impact, and of the dark magic unleashed in the last spell, blasted Orion across the room, and he painfully crashed against a wall, hitting his head hard. Dazedly, he slid to the floor, his limbs tiredly limp, his body trembling from exhaustion, his face pale.

His Necromantic magic had instantly rushed back into him, now his powers swirling tranquilly inside him, the Hand of Death gone, his own hand no longer glowing in blackness.

Groaning, Orion carefully touched the tender spot on the back of his head, feeling it throb under his fingertips. He crouched to hands and knees, and slowly made his way towards the floating Black heirloom. Exhaustedly, he jerked a hand, wandlessly cancelling the charm, and he quickly snatched the dropping pendant.

His fingers tightened around it, feeling the pull of the soul inside and the tingling of the dark magic, and he caressed it, whispering softly, "Oh, Tom… you fool, you did this to yourself."

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Orion tenderly caressed it once more, admittedly with longing, since he had considered, for a fraction of a second, to let Tom reside in him, given that he was almost the same Tom of the locket. It was foolish, he knew, for this Tom didn't know him, and would only try to use him for his own benefit and devises; he knew that all too well.

Yet, hearing and seeing this Tom had rattled him, nonetheless. He had detected the pain in the soul's voice, the horror of being trapped in an object, with no means to communicate, being nothing but a 'thing'. But it wasn't with him with whom the piece of soul had to merge to escape its solitary imprisonment, it was with Voldemort, and someday he hoped to make the wizard realize that.

Angered –he was going to give Voldemort a piece of his mind next time they saw each other- and still slightly sorrowful, he laboriously got to his feet, tightly clutching the new horcrux as he gazed at it.

The Black heirloom was worthy of a King, Voldemort would be satisfied; since he was giving the new horcrux to the wizard. Voldemort had trusted him for ages with the Gaunt ring, and he had promised the wizard to give him back a horcrux once he managed the transference; he wasn't about to break that trust. For if, one day, he had to destroy the horcruxes, he would do it granting Voldemort a fair chance, just as he wanted to give Dumbledore a fair duel; wit against wit, and magical abilities against magical abilities. No one was later going to have reasons to undermine or dispute his victories against other wizards.

Orion deeply frowned while he gazed at the horcrux in his hand. How could the visions imply that he would destroy such thing? After hearing this Tom Riddle, his pleas to feel alive again, how could he possibly kill such piece of soul?

He angrily shook his head and carefully pocketed the new horcrux. Slowly, he took a few steps until he reached the Gaunt ring on the floor, flipping his hand at it, and it shot to the air, floating before him.

Orion carefully inspected the Resurrection Stone while the ring it was inset on revolved slowly in mid air. After a few moments, he grinned triumphantly; the Stone wasn't cracked and he would no longer feel pain if he put the ring on - the Hallow was no longer blocked by the piece of soul, and it would have its powers intact and unrestrained.

He took a deep intake of breath, letting it out slowly, his heart pounding fast in his chest, while he felt a rush of anticipatory thrill and excitement. This was it. He would finally feel the true power of the Hallow; his Necromantic abilities magnified tenfold thanks to it, like Cadmus said in his journal.

Without wasting another second, he flung an open hand into the air and snatched the hovering ring, immediately placing it around his right-hand index finger, beside the Black Heir ring he wore on the middle finger.

But nothing would have prepared him to what he felt the instant the Gaunt ring was set around his finger.

The Resurrection Stone of the ring flashed in an intense black glow, only once, and he gasped when he felt a glorious dark fire of power which seemed to burningly rush through his veins, he felt his Necromantic powers violently sweeping in him, bursting in all-consuming intensity. He felt his eyes turning all-black without a thought or effort on his part, he felt a mantle of coldness and extreme detachment wrap around him, but it was pleasantly numbing, frostily consuming, and his senses seemed to sharpen to the extraordinary. Everything around him seemed to vibrate and hum, and he dazedly looked around, his mind fogged by a consuming need.

And then, gazing around, he saw a glowing whiteness coming from his body. It was his soul, he knew, though a full-fledged Necromancer couldn't see souls inside living humans with the naked eye, they had to use a powerful and magically-draining spell, and they rarely did without good reasons. Fascinated, he tried to inspect it, but soon gave up; from the perspective of his own eyes it was impossible to see much else but a whitish glow.

He felt a staggering hunger - for power? For something else? He didn't know, but the all-encompasing surging waves of Necromantic power which rushed through his body made him breathless and dizzy with elation, triumph, and a sense of infinite power and dark glory. He knew, he just knew that he could manipulate any otherworldly being to subject them to his will. He knew he could control ghosts, spirits, and souls, and that they would be rendered powerless to do nothing except follow his orders. He knew he could twist, morph, merge, obliterate or force them into other planes; he could do what Dementors did and he could do what the Force of Death did. He knew he could summon creatures from other planes, he knew he could rot the body of a wizard with a flick of a finger, and that he could steal a soul from a living human. He knew he could do everything that Vagnarov said that full-fledged Necromancer could do; everything and much more. He knew that he could do everything that Cadmus had described in his journal, and by Merlin that he understood the wizard; his obsession, his madness, his hunger, his fascination…

He felt all of it, throbbing in his very being, and suddenly, he loudly laughed.

And it sounded strange, eerie and insanely unrestrained to his own ears, but he didn't care, he couldn't help it, the power was all-consuming in its magnificence, he felt it in him, pulsing, vibrating; eager to rush from him at the merest thought or command.

He laughed like someone who knew that nothing and no one could stop him from doing whatever he wished, that he could unleash destruction and chaos, that he could unbalance the planes for his own amusement or benefit, that he could resurrected people long dead, and that not even Dementors could kill him in punishment; for he knew and felt that, unlike Cadmus, he was the Resurrection Stone's true Master.

He felt it in his blood, in his violently swirling dark magic; all this was what the true Master of the Hallows could do - what the Vindico could do.

With all-black eyes glowing with eerie intensity, Orion embraced all of this, still laughing, as he had never laughed before.

Suddenly, the door was slammed open.

"I found all the dark spells, Orion!" said a highly triumphant and smug voice. "I can finally understand grand part of the instructions that incompetent idiot of Borgin sent."

Orion swirled around towards the sound of the voice, and he gasped.

"Your eyes are all weird again. What's going on? Why is it so cold in here..."

But Orion couldn't pay attention to what the boy was saying. Before him was Draco, glowing in an incandescent pure white, and the young wizard was gloriously beautiful to his eyes. He felt the boy's soul like a beacon of enticing light calling to him; he felt it like waves of warmth that crashed against the insular coldness in him. A coldness he didn't want to feel anymore. He felt a gut-wrenching, consuming hunger, a deep desire which suddenly knew no bounds.

"Draco," he whispered, mesmerized, fascinated, hungry for something he couldn't describe, his glowing all-black eyes wide and glazed over.

Before he knew what he was doing, Orion had sprung forward, tightly wrapping his arms around Draco, crashing his lips against the boy's, feeling a terrible, inexorable need.

Through the fogginess of his mind, he became aware of Draco briefly stiffening in his arms, before relaxing and moaning as he opened his mouth and allowed Orion to demandingly plunge his tongue inside, exploring the boy's warm cavern with delirious lust and consuming desire.

He felt Draco's skilled tongue caressing his, battling for dominance, but Orion wouldn't have any of it, and he moaned into their locked mouths as he crushed the other boy against the wall, feeling their hardening arousals rubbing together through their robes, sending spikes of pleasure and warmth shooting through his cold body.

Feeling a maddening, urgent, all-consuming need, he lowered Draco to the floor, and he swiftly parted the young wizard's legs with a knee. Quickly, He positioned himself between them, on top of Draco, while he gazed at him with dazed all-black eyes, rubbing his body against Draco's, eliciting a deep moan to be wrenched from their throats.

Draco gasped for air, his silvery eyes clouded with desire. "What – I … let me have you, Orion. I've waited so long for this-"

"No," breathed out Orion, as he hungrily nibbled and licked the boy's neck, frenziedly rubbing their clothed arousals together. "I need to be inside you, Draco. Please, it hurts… I need to feel you all around me… I need the warmth… your light… Let me-"

"I… I've never bottomed-"

"I know, I'll be gentle, please," grunted Orion desperately, as he frantically pressed and rocked his body against Draco's.

He couldn't contain himself any longer, he felt a painful hunger that was wrecking him apart. If the boy didn't let him, he had half a mind to force it. He only knew that he wanted to be in Draco; that he wanted to utterly consume him. He felt he was about to explode.

Draco thickly swallowed, his fingers carding through Orion's hair, clenching. "Alright… but I get to top afterwards-"

"Yes, yes, that's fine with me," said Orion instantly, before he swooped down to capture Draco's warm mouth again, hungrily devouring it, feeling he needed something from it, but he didn't know what, it was driving him insane.

Draco pulled away for air, his handsome face flushed, his silvery eyes glazed over with deep desire, as he wrapped his legs around Orion's waist, pressing their arousals together, making Orion groan in pleasure and buckle against him.

Swiftly, Orion flicked a hand, wandlessly vanishing their clothes, while he carded his fingers through Draco's silky lock of platinum-blond hair.

He gazed down at him with fogged all-black eyes, seeing Draco's smooth, hard chest, his lean, defined muscles, his handsomely aristocratic features, his gorgeous eyes looking like silvery, molten mercury, but above all, seeing his soul glowing in a pure, intense whiteness which suffused all of Draco's body, making the boy the most glorious and enticing being he had ever seen.

Orion groaned in pleasure and maddening desire just for looking at him, and he whispered in between haggard pants, "Merlin, you're so beautiful, Draco… If only you could see yourself as I see you… "

"You're gorgeous as well," said Draco, smirking at him while his heated gaze travelled along Orion's nude body. He crushed Orion against him with his wrapped legs, groaning as their hard, naked arousals rubbed together, and he said in between pants, "Get on with it… or I'll shag you first."

"Merlin, I want you, I need you… the warmth, the light," murmured Orion, his mind fogged from all rational sense, completely dominated by an immitigable hungry need to utterly posses and consume.

He positioned himself, ready to plunge into Draco, but before moving onto that he instinctively ravished the boy's mouth, his fingers twined in Draco's silky hair, firmly holding the boy's head in place, pushing his tongue deeper, and he sucked in a breath of air from their locked mouths.

Suddenly, his whole body shook as it was ignited by an all-encompassing, exquisite warmth drawn from Draco's mouth, something radiant utterly filling his body, dissipating the devastating empty coldness of his being, and he yelled in pleasure, such pleasure as he had never felt before; the shout muffled as he kept sucking in breaths from Draco's mouth...

He felt Draco abruptly stiffening, and then frantically struggling against him, but he couldn't stop, his mind spun with warm pleasure, beyond any coherent thought; he wanted nothing but to mitigate his spiraling, consuming hunger for more, he felt he would shrivel and die if he didn't get more...


	8. The bond with Draco & wanting lovers

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 8**

Suddenly, through the cold veil of numbness and incoherence of his mind, he felt a blazing, piercing bolt of pain which exploded from his invisible scar, along with a painful burning around one of his fingers.

Orion wrenched his mouth from Draco's and he screamed in pain, while he felt someone roughly pushing him away. He curled on the floor, grasping his bowed head, clawing at his forehead, still screaming as the pain became more intense.

He felt the fog of his mind being pierced by the pain, and suddenly, his mind started clearing, the pain bringing it back to coherence, bringing him back from detachment and coldness, and everything began to daunt on him…

The images and sensations of what he had done swirled in his now rational mind, and horrified, Orion gasped.

Quickly, he pulled the Gaunt ring from his finger, flinging it to the farthest corner of the room, before he pulled out the Black Heir ring -which was sending waves of burning pain through his finger- letting it drop to the floor.

As soon as he stopped wearing the Gaunt ring, he felt all coldness sweep away from his body as if taken away by an eerie, rushing wind; his Necromantic powers immediately settling inside him, dormant.

He began to breathe in between choking, panicky pants as he realized what he had been about to do; all the horrible implications sinking in his mind. His green eyes were now wide, unseeing, aghast and frightened.

"What the fuck was that, Orion?!" yelled Draco, his silvery eyes wide, terrified, aiming his wand at Orion while he unsteadily straightened up, his nude body shivering, his breathing laborious and heavy. "What the fuck were you doing to me? ANSWER ME!"

Orion gazed up at him from his rolled up position on the floor, and he choked out, "You felt as if in the presence of a Dementor, didn't you?"

"YES!" shouted Draco furiously. "What are you playing at? First the bloody basilisk and now this?! Do you think it's funny? What the fuck were you doing?"

"I'm sorry," croaked out Orion, shivering as he clasped his arms around his knees, pulling his legs tightly against his naked body. A choked sob lodged in his throat, and he whispered brokenly, "I'm just like Cadmus… I did what he did… I couldn't control it, it controlled me… the hunger… Merlin… the hunger… your soul… I would have killed you…"

"What on Earth are you babbling about?" snapped Draco angrily. "Who's Cadmus? What hunger? Souls? What souls?!"

Orion briefly glanced at him, his eyes wide and deeply perturbed, as he muttered, "Merlin, the pain… he felt my feelings… he became very angry… he summoned me… he knows…" He fiercely shook his head. "But no… I always have my Occlumency barriers up… and my Necromantic powers… no, he couldn't have seen you… yet, he felt-"

"STOP BABBLING!" yelled Draco, with exasperation. "Explain things to me, or by Merlin that I'll curse you into the next year!"

"Voldemort knows about this!" shouted Orion, glaring up at him.

"How in Merlin's name can the Dark Lord know?" demanded Draco, his face paling.

"Oh, believe me, he knows," said Orion bitterly, glancing at the Black Heir ring on the floor. "And I finally comprehend how... I have a mind link with him, Draco, but don't ask, because I won't tell you. The important matter is that, sometimes, he can feel what I do. Thus, he knows I was about to shag someone. Don't worry, he doesn't know it's you, and I will never tell him." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'll tell him it was with another person. I can take the blame; I have no problem with that. By Merlin, I deserve it for my stupidity." He tightened his arms around his legs. "Furthermore, I think he spelled my Black ring to be something else besides a portkey and a summoning alarm device. I think it tells him when I'm about to be have intimate contact with someone. That would explain how Voldemort knew about the time when I saw Lezander alive, because I wanted to comfort him, to kiss him-"

"WHAT?!" spat Draco outraged. "Lezander is alive? You never told me that the half-breed was-"

"Yes, he is!" snapped Orion heatedly. "And I didn't tell you because few people know. Just my friends from Durmstrang, my Headmaster and one of my professors…" He snorted, and added angrily, "And of course, Lord bloody Voldemort knew because of my Black Heir ring. How dare him!"

"You're not making sense," said Draco angrily, his voice frustrated, as he crouched besides him, extending at hand to touch his shoulder. "Lezander died in the Department of Mysteries. That's what you told me-"

"Don't touch me!" shrieked Orion, quickly shifting away from him while clasping his arms tighter around his shivering body.

Draco deeply frowned at him, but he dropped his hand, and snapped, "Fine, I won't. Now, tell me how it's possible for the half-breed to be alive if you told me that he had lost his soul when he went through that Veil thing."

"Oh, but I got him back, didn't I?" said Orion tonelessly, before he let out a dry, mirthless bark of laughter. "That's right, I saved him, because I pulled him out of the Veil with his soul still inside his body. Not that I realized that he truly made it alive, I discovered it much later. I thought for many months that he had died because of me - to protect me. But the truth is that I saved him. Because I defeated the Force of Death – which is unheard of!"

He sniggered mordantly, staring at Draco, his green eyes madly flashing in anger. "Because I'm a very powerful wizard, Draco; you have no idea how much! Because I am a Necromancer. I'm sure you heard the rumors about me; what the Death Eaters whisper about me, about my display of dark magic in the Department of Mysteries."

"Yes," said Draco quietly, frowning at him. "I heard about that… they believe that you could become a Necromancer…" His eyes widened, and he gasped out, "Your eyes… all-black… it's said that a Necromancer's eyes are like that…" He shuddered, before he demanded sharply, "So, it's true? You're a Necromancer?"

"I am," said Orion tonelessly. "Surely, unfledged, but I have the power." He dropped his arms from their tight hold around his knees, and he crouched, seating down on his heels, piercing his friend with his eyes, as he smirked without feeling. "Do you want to know why you felt as if I was a Dementor feeding on your soul? How can I explain it… Well, I was experimenting with a Necromantic spell, a very advanced one, to magnify my abilities…"

His smirked widened, contorting into a pained thing, as he continued with an exultant voice, "Oh, I casted it correctly. It was perfect, as powerful as I expected it to be! But just as consuming. You felt that way, because I WAS feeding on your soul, Draco. I had the powers of a Dementor, I would have killed you, Draco; I wouldn't have stopped. That was the hunger. The hunger for you; for your soul, that's what I was seeing when I looked at you, when I said you were beautiful-"

"That's rubbish, you stopped-"

"Because of Voldemort!" yelled Orion anxiously. "Because of the pain caused by his anger, the pain in my scar, and because he summoned me and my Black Heir ring burned me. I wouldn't have stopped!"

He shook his head, glancing away from Draco, while he whispered bitterly under his breath, "The hunger overtook me, just like it happened to him… I'm like him, I have his blood in my veins, after all."

He tightly fisted his hands, his knuckles turning white, as he muttered inaudibly, "But I'm more than him, more powerful. I know the consequences now, and by Merlin that I'll learn to master it! That's the only way; that is, after all, my purpose-"

"You're babbling again," snapped Draco with short-temperedness. "What do you mean that you'll master it? You're referring to that insane spell you cast on yourself? You're not trying that again!"

Orion glanced at him, startled, before his lips slowly curved upwards. "Yes, I'm talking about the spell. And indeed, I'll try it again-"

"The spell that made you behave like a crazed Dementor-like being? That made you want to suck me dry from my soul?! You're an idiot if you try it again, and I'll certainly not be around – you could have killed me!" spat Draco furiously, seizing his shoulders in a tight clutch. His face became stony, and he added sharply, "The spell that made you see my soul, which you say was the reason you considered me beautiful." His fingers painfully sunk into Orion's shoulders. "Tell me, was that the reason why you kissed me, why you wanted to have sex with me? I was just a willing body with a flashy soul?"

Orion stared back into his enraged eyes, seeing the hurt there, and his own eyes softened, and he said sincerely, while he traced his thumb along Draco's abused lips, "No, the spell wasn't the only reason why I wanted to have sex with you. True, your soul was enticing, pure, untarnished, and beautiful, but so are you. I saw us together, you know? In a dream... I saw what happened at first, between us. I saw a part of what happened today. It was a weird coincidence, surely, for I am no Seer."

He smiled at him, still caressing Draco's lower lip, briefly glancing fixedly at it. "But I know now, that I desire you. I know, because what I felt under the spell was just like something I read; the description of how another wizard felt towards the woman he loved when he casted the same spell on him. He wanted to consume her in the end, too. For him, her soul was the most precious and beautiful thing, and he hungered for it. But he didn't end up consuming her soul. Firstly, because the spell didn't make him react so strongly as it did on me, since truthfully, I'm more powerful than him. Secondly, because he was driven to insanity before he could manage to Kiss her. And finally, because she was long dead, and even if he tried numerous times to get her back by using the spell, he failed in the end. I believe, given what the book described, that the wizard would have ended up consuming her soul, when under the influence of the spell, if he had lived long enough." He heavily sighed. "Regardless, when I was under the spell, I felt towards you what he felt towards her. Thus, now I know that I desire and want you."

"You do?" said Draco quietly, piercing him with his silvery eyes. Then, he grunted, "What about Lezander? You say that the half-breed is alive-"

"I haven't seen Lezander in ages," said Orion frowning, glancing away from him. "But he has nothing to do with it. Voldemort, on the other hand-"

"The Dark Lord just uses you to amuse himself!" spat Draco furiously. "You're just his plaything, something pretty to fuck. My parents were in the right when they wanted to form a marital union between us. We can tell my mother, and she can halt negotiations with Astoria's parents-"

"Stop!" interrupted Orion, his frown deepening, troubled, as he pressed his palm on Draco's mouth, shutting him up. He gazed at him, and said quietly, "Listen to me, Draco. Yes, I am attracted to you, I desire and want you, but it won't change anything. I can't act on it. If Astoria Greengrass if whom you want for a spouse, then let Narcissa carry on the negotiations, because I will never be your spouse, Draco. Do you understand?"

"Why the hell not?" snapped Draco angrily, wrenching Orion's hand away from his mouth, glowering at him. "We like each other, we've been close friends since we were ten-year-old boys, there's attraction, there's desire, we're both Blacks but not brothers, thus our heir will be a powerful dark wizard or witch due to our combined bloodlines, and the union of our Houses and fortunes will make us more influential than we already are!"

"Yes, I agree," said Orion quietly, "but I cannot. I can't even offer to become lovers, because I don't think I'm ready to complicate and endanger our lives so stupidly-"

"I don't want you as a mere lover!" spat Draco heatedly. "I can have you as a spouse, so I want that-"

"That's the problem, you can't have me as a spouse," snapped Orion, with exasperated frustration. "You can't, because I'm already married, Draco! To Voldemort!"

"WHAT?!" choke out Draco, reeling backwards, staring at him with startled eyes, holding a hint of betrayed hurt, accusing fury, and confusion.

Orion carded his fingers through his hair, glancing away from him, his body still shivering. But he forced his mind to pull itself together, to be calm and not crumble due to what had happened. He needed to regain his composure, he needed to think clearly.

Immediately, he stood up and wandlessly accioed his wand, spelling their discarded clothes on them. Then, he picked up the Black Heir and Gaunt rings, careful of not touching the stone of either of them, and he quickly dropped them inside his robes' pocket, where the new horcrux was already kept.

He gazed down at Draco, and extended a hand towards him, mutely offering to pull him to his feet.

Draco ignored it, standing up on his own, and he snarled furiously, "Are you going to stand there in silence? Aren't you going to explain it to me?"

"What do you want me to explain?" said Orion tiredly. "I'm his spouse, and that's all there is to it-"

"You can tell me when it happened!" yelled Draco angrily, his silvery eyes flashing dark with his fury. "You can tell me why the fuck you did it! You can tell me why you didn't tell me before-"

"I didn't tell you," interrupted Orion quietly, "because Narcissa made me promise. I didn't agree with her decision to keep it a secret from you, but I complied nonetheless. She seemed to believe it was necessary. It happened during Christmas break, it was a magical bonding ceremony held in Black Manor, attended by Death Eaters, Dark Allies, and other supporters. Calypso was there, and Remus Lupin – an old friend of my father- and yes, your mother also attended. And no, Lezander wasn't there, he's in Zraven Citadel, and I only saw him once, very briefly -that's when I found out that he was alive- a long time after the Department of Mysteries fiasco. But I don't know if he's aware that I'm married, either." And then he added sourly, thinking about the spirits, "Though his parents must have found out by now."

"My mother knew, and she didn't tell me?" said Draco outraged, though his silvery eyes held hurt betrayal.

"Don't blame her," interjected Orion, "even if she had wanted to, later, she couldn't have told you. Everyone had to sign a magical contract, binding them to be unable to speak of the ceremony, or even share the memory of it. She asked me to keep quiet, because Voldemort and I are the only ones who can tell."

"Still," said Draco crisply, "it was her idea to ask you to keep it from me."

"Because she loves you; because she was worried about how you would take it, and you had enough with your appointed task to repair the cabinet and kill Dumbledore."

Draco angrily shook his head, before he pierced Orion's with his eyes, roughly clutching his shoulders. "What about this - what happened here today? You say you want me-"

"It doesn't matter if I want you, that's not important!" snapped Orion, jerkily carding his fingers through his hair. He shuddered, horrified, though he gazed down at his body, touching his chest, for he still felt a strange warmth inside him, and he whispered inaudibly, "Don't you see that I have absorbed some of your essence? I wonder what this means for us… I didn't suck your soul, but I fed from it, very briefly… I have some of you inside me… I wonder… does this constitute a bond between us?"

"Of course it matters if you want us to be together!" spat Draco angrily, his grasp on Orion's shoulder becoming painful. "Alright, you're married to the Dark Lord, but you can undo it if you want to, can't you? You can kill him-"

"What?!" gasped out Orion, jostled out of his troubled musings, his eyes snapping to Draco's determined silvery eyes. He clenched his jaw, and bit out, "What are you saying, Draco? You're a Death Eater, how can you-"

"But I never wanted to become one!" snarled Draco bitterly. "You know this. Even my father was trying to find a way so that I could avoid taking the Dark Mark. I have it now, but it doesn't mean that I like it." He bore his eyes into Orion's, and added fiercely, "You're always saying that you're powerful – then prove it! Kill him-"

"I won't kill him," spat Orion angrily, clutching Draco's collar. "How can you say this? However unwillingly, you took the Dark Mark, you owe him your allegiance! We are not traitors to the Dark and I will not have you stab him on the back-"

Draco snidely snorted, and he hissed out, "You were about to fuck me, doesn't that mean that you betrayed him – your spouse!"

"It wasn't betrayal," gritted out Orion. "I didn't shag you in the end." He waved his hand dismissively, and added calmly, "Even if I had, it's largely accepted for married purebloods to have lovers. There's nothing wrong with that. Regardless, you're not my lover; nothing happened-"

"Bollocks it didn't!" spat Draco, his silvery eyes flashing in anger. "We were about to shag, I agreed to allow you to top – I've never allowed anyone… Doesn't that mean anything to you?!"

Orion heaved in a deep breath, and eyeing him carefully he said quietly, "It does mean something to me, Draco. But as I said, I can offer nothing to you, not what you want. I'm married already, and I won't kill him. He's powerful, we need him for the war, and-"

"And you have feelings for him, is that it?" jeered Draco with disgust.

"Yes, I do," replied Orion calmly, gazing up at him. "I've always admitted this to you."

Draco roughly released him, his jaw tightly clenching as he looked away. His posture became rigid, and he said stiffly, "Very well. You want to remain his spouse, I can deal with that." He glanced at him, piercing him with his eyes, and added in a tight voice, "You can't be my spouse but we can be lovers. I rather have you as a lover than not have you at all."

"We can't be lovers, either," interjected Orion quietly, carding his fingers through his hair with troubled frustration. He let out a dry, mirthless chuckle, and said sharply, "Be thankful that he won't know with whom I was today. I'll tell him that I was about to shag Lavender or something like that-"

"Explain that to me," demanded Draco stiffly, piercing him with his eyes. "Before, you said something about the Dark Lord sensing your feelings through a 'link' between you. You said he would know that you were about to have sex with someone but that he wouldn't know with whom. How does that work?"

"I have a link with him due to my scar," replied Orion, briefly touching his glamoured, invisible scar. "It's because I survived his Killing Curse when I was a baby. It… bonded us, in some way. Sometimes, he senses what I feel if my emotions are intense enough, and I can also feel his anger as pain in my scar. And I'm fairly certain that my Black Heir ring was spelled to let him know if I had the intention of becoming physically involved with someone." He frowned deeply, and muttered, "That's why he summoned me when I saw Lezander alive, but he also said that he had caught a glimpse of Lezander through the link… it's possible, just as I can sometimes see through his eyes…"

He shook his head, and added, "Nevertheless, I'm sure he hasn't seen you, not only because of my Occlumency barriers, but because I was infused with my Necromantic abilities. There's no way that he could have seen through my mind when it was completely enveloped with the detachment and numbness of my Necromantic powers - I'm sure about that." He grasped Draco's shoulders, and said sharply, "Nevertheless, he might suspect, therefore you must occlude all of this from him. I'm sure he won't subject you to a Legilimency attack; he can't, because he needs you to fulfill your task, so he won't risk damaging you."

"Fine," said Draco crisply. "Of course I'll keep all of this from him, I'm not an idiot. But I don't see why we can't be together if the Dark Lord has no way to know that you're with me. We can be lovers; I'm willing to accept that. As you rightly pointed out, it's usual for married couples to have lovers-"

"Do you think he'll allow me to have lovers, Draco?" interrupted Orion, with a dry, sharp laugh. "Don't be stupid, he'll kill anyone whom I approach with that intent. He might not know about whom I was with today, but he could find out if we stayed together!"

"Then stand up to him!" spat Draco angrily, clutching his shoulders. "You have the right to have a lover if you want to. So claim that right! You've always allowed the Dark Lord to control you, and it's disgusting. If you're as powerful as you claim to be, then face him and demand to do what you wish!" He gazed at Orion, and sneered, "Or are you just a submissive, obedient, little wife who likes to take it up the arse?"

Orion's eyes flashed in anger, and he swiftly crushed Draco against the wall, pressing his forearm against the young wizard's throat, and he hissed out, "That I like to bottom in the bedroom has nothing to do with submissiveness, Draco. Watch it – I will not allow you to insult me." His gazed briefly flickered to Draco's parted lips, struggling for breath, and he added in a sharp whisper, "But you're right. I do mean to stand up to him, now that I can; now that I know myself to be powerful enough not only to defend myself but also to defeat him, if I must."

Struggling to breathe, Draco's gaze fixed on Orion's lips, and he said in between haggard pants, "You know you want to…"

"To kiss you?" said Orion, smirking at him. "To fuck you?"

"Yes," breathed out Draco, his cheeks flushed, his silvery eyes glinting as he gazed at him, his lips curving smugly. "And to be fucked by me."

"Yes, I do," said Orion, his eyes fixed on Draco's parted lips. He briefly kissed them with his own, slowly trailing his tongue over Draco's puffed out lower lip, before he pulled away, and whispered sharply in Draco's ear, "Nevertheless, even if I decided to claim my right to have a lover, I will not act in a manner that will result in an open confrontation between Voldemort and me, because we're spouses and I will not stupidly duel him when we could damage each other beyond repair."

Swiftly, he stepped away from Draco, leaving the young wizard to catch his breath against the wall, and he said in a steely tone of voice, "Voldemort is my spouse and I love him, Draco. That won't change, even if I had a lover. Furthermore, I'm not ready to complicate my life by taking you as a lover. Yes, I want you, but I won't act on it. He would eventually find out and it would endanger your life, and I'm not willing to risk it. Moreover, both you and I have much more important things to be worried about; we can't afford to indulge ourselves by becoming lovers. You see this, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," replied Draco haggardly, quickly straightening up while he smoothed his robes with a hand. He pierced him with his eyes, and added sharply, "Fine, it's dangerous for us if we became lovers now. I don't want the Dark Lord to know either. But later, when I'm done with my task, I'm willing to take the risk. I won't allow others to dictate my life, and that includes the Dark Lord. I'm a Death Eater but that doesn't mean that I can't be with whomever I want, even if it's with the Dark Lord's spouse. And you shouldn't allow him to dictate with who you are either. When all this mess is done, I want to be with you." He grasped Orion's chin, and demanded, "You say you love the Dark Lord, but tell me, can't you love me as well?"

Orion gazed back at him, and said quietly, "What Voldemort and I have is complicated, but it's intense, Draco, and no amount of lovers will sever it. Nevertheless, yes, I think I could love you as well, differently of how I love him. But will you be satisfied in only being lovers? I can offer you nothing more."

"Yes, it would be enough," replied Draco flatly. "As I told you, I rather have you as a lover than not have you at all. You're already married and you don't want to change that, therefore, I'll allow my mother to go through with her plans for my marriage to Astoria Greengrass. I'll do my duty to the Malfoy name, but I'll be with whomever I want. Tell me, when I'm done with my task, will you be willing to become lovers?"

Orion deeply frowned at him, carding his fingers through his hair. "I'm willing to explore this between us, but I don't know when. After you complete your task, you say? I don't know. It would depend on the circumstances, Draco. We don't know what will happen after you're done. I think we should only risk it if we see that we can become lovers without complicating matters and uselessly endangering ourselves. I can stand up to Voldemort, telling him that I have a right to have a lover, but he won't easily accept it. Indeed, I'm pretty certain that even if he told me he did, he wouldn't really; he would seek to kill my love interest. And I'm not willing to complicate my life to such a degree. Let's wait and see, alright? No promises, no expectations. Let's just wait, since both of us have much to do."

"Alright," said Draco, smirking at him. "We'll wait. I'm a Malfoy, after all; I know that cunning patience is a virtue."

"Yes it is," agreed Orion, with a sharp nod. He scrutinized him, and said curtly, "No matter what happens, we're part of the Dark, Draco, and I don't want to hear anything about betraying or killing the Dark Lord-"

"I know," drawled Draco impassively. "The Dark needs a leader like the Dark Lord, even if I don't personally like him. The Dark can't afford to lose someone so powerful." He pierced him with his eyes, and added casually, "For now."

"Right," said Orion gruffly, before he waved a hand dismissively.

He took some steps back, leaning on the desk, and heavily sighed while he rubbed his throbbing forehead. The pain had subdued but he knew that Voldemort must still be trying to activate the Black Heir ring portkey, without any results. He would have to see the wizard soon, and he would have to disclose that he was able to remove the ring from his finger…

Orion groaned as he kept massaging his temples, briefly touching his chest, still feeling the strange but pleasant warmth there - caused by whatever tiny amounts of soul essence he had stolen from Draco… It was a mess. He didn't know what this implied since no wizard had ever sucked bits of a soul's essence… Not even a Necromancer had done that, if he didn't want to become a Dementor… That bloody Resurrection Stone… He wondered what this made him now… what it meant for Draco and him to be linked thus… It was a connection, surely, but he felt nothing else but a pleasant warmth inside him…

He closed his eyes, tiredly rubbing them. Today's events had been exhausting, saddening, and frightening; between transferring the piece of soul to a new receptacle, seeing the distorted Tom Riddle, creating a new horcrux with the Black heirloom, using the Resurrection Stone and then almost becoming a Dementor… For he knew that if he had sucked Draco's entire soul, that was exactly what he would have become, with no way of reversing it…

With a frisson of horror, Orion shuddered, before he cleared his mind from such thoughts. He snapped his eyes open and saw Draco intently observing him, with a worried expression on his face and with warm fondness in his eyes, though the boy soon pulled a mask of cool indifference over his features when he saw him gazing back at him.

"How did you get in this room?" said Orion quietly, standing away from the desk.

"Please," scoffed Draco. "Do you think that I wouldn't be able to cancel the locking spell you casted on the door? It was strong, surely, but I can manage to cancel such spells if I want to."

"Right," interjected Orion acerbically, "but I told you not to come in-"

"Oh, but I had good news," said Draco, widely smirking at him. "I found all the dark spells mentioned in Borgin's instructions. I took a lot of notes from the books in Slytherin's library. Now, I'll be able to understand great part of the instructions." His smirk turned smugly triumphant. "I'll be able to repair the cabinet in a month or so, before the school year ends. The Dark Lord will be pleased with me."

"Yes, your task, of course," said Orion distractedly, while he remembered something and perused one of his pockets. Finally, he took out a small vial half-filled with a swirling golden liquid. He held it up to Draco, and said nonchalantly, "This is a present for you. Do you recognize what it is?"

Draco took a step forward, grabbing the vial and intently inspecting it. His eyebrows shot upwards, and he gazed at Orion with a smirk on his face. "Felix Felicis… the one you won during our first Potion class, I surmise… You're giving it to me?"

"Yes," said Orion coolly, "there's enough there to bring you 'luck' for three hours or so. I would recommend drinking it when you've understood all of Borgin's instructions, and when you're prepared to cast the spells to repair the cabinet. When do you think you'll do that?"

"Mid June, I estimate," replied Draco, gazing at the vial in his hand with intense satisfaction. "I'll surely manage to repair the cabinet with this."

"Yes, but I want you to contact me with the two-way mirror the instant you fix the cabinet," said Orion sternly. "You must let me know when the Death Eaters will use it to come into the school, and when you'll be facing Dumbledore because-"

"Because you want to be by my side when I kill Dumbledore, because of the Unbreakable Vow you took," interjected Draco, looking up at him. "Yes, I will, don't worry."

"Thanks," said Orion curtly.

Draco smirked at him, and said silkily, "No, thank you, for this, and for bringing me here." He sauntered to Orion's side and slowly carded his fingers through Orion's hair, bringing his face down, as he murmured, "We make a good team, don't you think?"

Orion stiffened and pulled his face away when he felt Draco's lips brushing against his, and he said flatly, "No, Draco. No kisses or caresses from now on-"

"Ah, yes, we have to wait," said Draco, smirking at him while he pulled back and nonchalantly leaned on the desk. He waved a hand dismissively, and drawled, "Very well. So now, what?"

"Now," said Orion pointedly, "I take you back to the school. Go to your dorm and use your notes to review and understand Borgin's instructions. I'll have to get back here in order to activate my portkey." He shook his head, and added angrily, "Voldemort has never summoned me through my Black Heir ring while I'm at Hogwarts; he knows it's too dangerous because the school's wards could detect the use of a portkey. Nevertheless, here, inside Slytherin's chambers, I'll be able to use it, since it's warded against the detection of magic, and the chamber's wards also allow me to apparate and portkey. I have to thank, at least, that all of this happened while we were in here; Dumbledore won't know about it. But by Merlin that Voldemort was stupidly careless in his anger, or perhaps he did it on purpose. It doesn't matter; I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "You're truly going to stand up to him? What are you going to tell him?"

"Oh, yes, I am going to stand up to him; I have much to discuss with him," said Orion sharply, his eyes flashing in anger. "Nevertheless, you have nothing to worry about; he won't know I was with you."

He straightened up, and grasped Draco's arm. "Let's go to Slytherin's library. You'll pick up your notes and then I'll get you back to the girls' bathroom of the second floor."

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Orion was back in Slytherin's study, alone, fuming and his mind swirling with angry, troubled, and confused thoughts. He didn't quite understand what had happened with Draco; surely, he had always been attracted to his friend in same way or another, but not with the intense desire he felt at present. It could be because he had seen Draco's pure, exquisite soul, because he had hungered for it as much as Cadmus had hungered first for Eloise's soul, and then for any soul when the wizard had unrestrictedly plunged into the Necromantic Arts, becoming so obsessed and consumed that it finally turned him into a Dementor.

The Resurrection Stone had affected him just as it had affected Cadmus, but also more powerfully, more inexorably, and he knew that it was because he wielded stronger dark magic than Cadmus. Nevertheless, the problem was that he had fed from Draco's soul, not enough to affect Draco in any prolonged way, but now he had some tiny bit of Draco inside him. And that could be the thing fueling his desire for the boy… bonding them together in some unique and unheard-of way…

He shook his head. There was nothing he could do about that. It had happened and he would have to learn to deal with it. Surely, he wanted Draco, but he was able to disregard it – for now. He would worry about it in the distant future. He was certainly not prepared to take Draco as a lover; that would be too complicated and risky at present. And quite frankly, even if he could love Draco as a lover, it wouldn't match what he felt for Voldemort. He knew that Voldemort would always be the most esteemed person to him; there was no denying it.

On the other hand, he now understood what Sebastien and Grindelwald had told him. He did want to be able to have lovers if he desired it. He wanted that freedom for himself. And he believed he had the right to claim it, just like all purebloods did. He wanted to fight for it, to experience it, even if he knew that he wouldn't take a lover any time soon, and even if he knew that no lover would be loved by him as much as he loved Voldemort.

Regardless, his love life wasn't something he should be worrying about at present. It was inconsequential when compared to all the things he had yet to do - his aim of becoming the Vindico. He had to focus on that, and becoming the Vindico was directly related to mastering the Resurrection Stone.

Carefully, he plucked out the Gaunt ring from his pocket, grasping it by its band, not touching the Resurrection Stone since he didn't want it to affect him. He placed it on top of the mahogany desk, inspecting it with a deep frown on his face, unwittingly shuddering.

He saw the Resurrection Stone for what it was, of course. It was to him what the Mayan Stone was to Voldemort. He remembered their heated discussion about the Mayan Stone quite clearly, it had been during their one-day 'respite' – ergo, honeymoon, though Voldemort refused to call it by such paltry, contemptible, romantic muggle word. Nevertheless, it would be useful to review that memory in person.

With a deep frown, he pressed his wand's tip against the side of his forehead, and casted the nonverbal spell to pluck out the memory. Slowly, he moved the wand's tip away from his temple, drawing with it a silver, liquid-like thread. He flicked his wand, making the swirl of memory remain suspended in mid air. Then, he prepared himself to cast a crafty, little dark spell that Grindelwald had taught him – it wasn't as good as using a pensieve, but it was efficient enough for his purposes.

He aimed his wand at the thread of memory, and said, "Visualiza memoria!"

A bright blue beam shot from his wand, hitting the silver, liquid thread, and at once, it rapidly expanded and spread, forming a huge mantle that surrounded him as if it were a wide screen, the memory unfolding for him to watch…

Orion sat up with crossed legs and leveled Voldemort with a hard gaze._ "I mean that using the Stone frequently isn't a wise idea."_

"_Why not?"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, sitting up as well._ "You controlled yourself in the end. You saw what we could do with a simple Bombarda. Imagine what could be done with the Cruciatus, Imperius, or Killing Curse!"_

"_That's exactly what I fear,"_ snapped Orion._ "You told me long ago that the American Unspeakables who studied the Stone thought that the Mayan leader, priest, or whatever he was, used the Stone without being able to control it, causing not only his demise but the extermination of an entire civilization and race-"_

"_Because he couldn't control it, because he was weak," _interrupted Voldemort curtly_. "We aren't."_

"_Or because he became addicted to it," _retorted Orion, piercing him with a hard stare._ "Because the power corrupted him, making him a mindless slave to it."_

"_Corrupted him?" _said Voldemort with a snide laughter._ "Power doesn't corrupt; power makes you great, rising you above all others."_

"_Absolute power corrupts absolutely," _snapped Orion._ "That's one muggle saying which applies perfectly to the situation."_

"_You're such a little hypocrite," _snarled Voldemort, gripping Orion's chin._ "I saw how you enjoyed it. I experienced the consequences of it when you were still filled by the lingering power rushing through you. And now you want to make me believe that you don't covet more? That you aren't hungry for it? "_

"_That's the problem," _said Orion sharply,_ "I am hungry for more, and for that reason alone, I must restrain myself, as should you-"_

"_Only the weak fear-"_

"_Bollocks, Tom," _interrupted Orion heatedly._ "Only the weak would mindlessly succumb to the pull of the Stone, without thinking about the consequences to themselves and others. Only the weak would become addicted to that bloody thing which could have the power of taking over your magic. It destroyed a civilization before, Tom!"_

"_There's no conclusive evidence about that," _said Voldemort sharply.

"_I don't require evidence," _interjected Orion._ "Suspicions alone are enough for me."_ He pierced him with his eyes, and demanded, _"What do you want to use the Stone for, anyway?"_

Voldemort deviously smirked at him._ "To win the war."_

With a deep frown, Orion flicked his wand, cancelling the spell and making the swirl of memory sink back into his head and mind.

Yes, it was quite clear, the Resurrection Stone was just as threatening as the Mayan Stone, but now he understood Voldemort completely, as he often found himself doing lately. Both Stones had the power of controlling who attempted to control them; both artifacts made the user hunger for more power, with the risk of overcoming and controlling the user, making the user a mindless puppet to the Stone's power… Nevertheless, just as Voldemort wanted to control the Mayan Stone to use it during the war, he wanted to control the Resurrection Stone for the war as well, to become the Vindico.

Orion heavily sighed. He had been naïve back then and Voldemort had been right. No matter the risks of being controlled and corrupted by the Resurrection Stone, he had to master it, just like Voldemort wanted to master the Mayan Stone. No matter his misgivings, and the frisson of fearful apprehension he felt towards allowing himself to experience the power of the Resurrection Stone once again, he would need to wear it often; he would need to practice until he learned to control it.

He flicked his wand at a drawer, and then at the Gaunt ring, making it plop into the open drawer.

Orion narrowed his eyes at it, and whispered sharply, "I will learn to control you. I'm not Cadmus. You won't drive me mad; you won't turn me into a Dementor. I will master you."

And he would ask for Grindelwald's help. If there was something he knew, it was that intense pain brought back his senses to him, and he was certain that the old wizard would be more than willing to cast at him sadistic torturing curses when he was wearing the Gaunt ring. He would practice with Grindelwald, since under the influence of the Resurrection Stone he might attempt to suck the wizard's soul but he was more than certain that the old man could defend himself, unlike Draco. Yes, he would repeatedly subject himself to the influence of the Stone until he managed to control it and himself. And there was no doubt that Grindelwald would greatly enjoy the perks of subjecting him to pain.

With a fond smile for the old wizard, Orion closed the drawer and cast several potent wards on it; he would retrieve the Gaunt ring later, to take it with him to Durmstrang and then Potter Manor.

Without any further ado, he masked his face with utter calmness and brought out the Black Heir ring from his robes' pocket. Swiftly, he put it on and tapped it with his wand's tip.

Instantly, he felt a pull around his navel, everything around him tightening while he was enveloped in a swirling mesh of colors.

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Abruptly, his feet landed on hard stone floors, and his invisible scar flared with new waves of pain. Gritting his teeth together, he gazed up and saw that he was in Voldemort's summoning chamber in Riddle Manor. Just then, he saw several cloaked and masked Death Eaters surrounding Voldemort's throne, who swiftly pressed their wands to their Dark Marks, dissapparating when Voldemort waved a hand at them.

Clenching his jaw, Orion gazed at Voldemort through the expanse of the dimly lit room, holding the wizard's crimson stare. Voldemort was coolly seated on his throne-like chair, his handsome face revealing nothing, though Orion could feel his anger as waves of pain bursting from his scar.

He stood rooted in his place, his shoulders straight, and he pulled mantles of Occlumency shields around his mind, trying to mute the pain.

At last, when Voldemort did nothing but gaze at him, Orion arched an eyebrow, and hissed nonchalantly, _"You summoned me?"_

"_I did, quite a while ago,"_ replied Voldemort in a deceptively calm and quiet voice, still elegantly seated on his throne. _"Can you tell me how it is that I activated your portkey from my end, yet, it didn't work?"_

"_Can you tell me why you activated my portkey knowing that I was at Hogwarts?"_ countered Orion, narrowing his eyes at him. _"Aren't you aware that Dumbledore could have been alerted by the school's wards if my ring had indeed portkeyed me here?"_

Voldemort smirked at him, and it was a viciously menacing thing. _"Yet, here you are. You must have portkeyed from the Forbidden Forest, well outside Hogwarts' wards, or…"_ His eyes narrowed. _"Or you portkeyed from Slytherin's quarters."_

"_Yes, luckily for both of us, I __immediately went to Slytherin's quarters after feeling your summon,"_ said Orion in clipped tones. _"Before then, I was rather busy catching up with some interesting reading in my dorm-"_

Startled, he gasped when, in a swirl of black smoke, Voldemort disappeared from the throne, just to appear right in front of him, smashing him against the wall.

"_You were rather busy in kissing and lusting after someone, weren't you?_" hissed Voldemort in a deadly tone, his fingers wrapping tightly around Orion's throat while he pinned him against the wall with his body. "_Do you take me for a fool, boy? Do you think I didn't experience your desire? Do you think I don't know you had the intention of fucking someone!" _

"_You might have felt my desire, but you didn't experience all what I did_," snarled Orion, violently pushing him back with all the considerable strength he could muster. Instantly, he ripped the Black Heir from his finger, flinging it to Voldemort's chest, as he spat angrily, "_You know I was about to shag someone because of the spell you casted on my ring! That's also how you knew what had happened when I saw Lezander alive, because I wanted to kiss him at some point, and the spell on the ring alerted you about that. And who knows how many times it has alerted you! How dare you-"_

"_How dare I what?"_ hissed Voldemort furiously, stalking towards him. _"Ensure that my own spouse won't cuckold me?!"_

"_I wasn't your spouse when you spelled my ring!" _yelled Orion madly. _"I was just a young, stupid boy asking you to help me free my father from Azkaban, and you used that opportunity to turn my ring not only into a portkey but into an invasive thing that would tell you when I wanted to be intimate with someone!"_ He gazed at him with utter disgust. _"I was just a child - how dare you monitor me during all these years in such way! You had no right then, and you have no right now-"_

Voldemort roughly gripped his face with a hand, painfully sinking his fingers into Orion's cheeks, and he hissed enraged, "_I did it to be aware of what you did back then, since I didn't lust for you when you were just a child, but I did want to have a say about with whom you'd be married off to. And you willingly came to me to ask me to help your father, thus, I was in my right to spell your ring however I saw fit. And for more reason now that you're my wayward spouse._" He brought his face inches away from his, and demanded menacingly, his crimson eyes flashing in fury, making a surge of pain burst from Orion's forehead, "_Why are you able to remove the ring from your finger? And with whom were you?"_

"_I'm able to remove my ring,"_ gritted out Orion, through the pain of his scar, "_because I cancelled the non-removability spell from it. That's why I wasn't instantly portkeyed here when you activated my ring. I felt your summon and quickly withdrew the ring from my finger._" He nastily smirked at him. "_Now, I'm able to do that. Now, you can't sweep me away from my surroundings whenever you fancy – as if I was one more of your pathetic followers! I'm your spouse, not-"_

"_Yes, MY spouse_," hissed Voldemort furiously, his grip on Orion's face becoming unbearably painful. "_Tell me who you wanted to fuck!_" His crimson eyes dangerously narrowed, and he instantly pressed his wand against Orion's forehead. "_Or did you remove the ring in order to continue with what you were doing – did you fuck someone?!_"

"_I didn't fuck anyone_," snarled Orion, wrenching Voldemort's fingers from his face, defiantly gazing back at him. "_It doesn't mean, however, that I didn't want to. You had a way to be alerted about what I did, but I don't. Tell me, have you fucked anyone since we became spouses? I'm very aware that Bella resides here, just as many of the Death Eaters we broke out from Azkaban years ago._" He narrowed his eyes at him, and snapped furiously, "_You had a way to monitor me but I have to way to monitor you! How do I know that you haven't-"_

"_Oh, this is precious," _jeered Voldemort,_ "you're jealous of Bellatrix?" _He smirked viciously._ "Yes, I could have fucked her as many times as I wished." _His smirk widened, and he spat snidely,_ "Nevertheless, whenever I wish to pound into someone, I always summon you, my little serpent." _He mockingly caressed Orion's cheek, raking his fingernails on his skin. _"Indeed, there's no one so willing to spread their legs for me as you are. You are such a willing, beautiful whore, aren't you?" _

"_Fuck you, Tom!"_ snarled Orion enraged, instantly whipping out his wand and pressing it against Voldemort's throat. _"I'm no whore-"_

"_Yet you were about to fuck someone!"_ hissed Voldemort furiously, sinking his wand's tip into Orion's forehead. _"No more dallying, either you tell me or I rip the truth from your mind!"_

"_I dare you,"_ spat Orion, narrowing his eyes at him. He nastily smirked at him. _"Yes, indeed, I dare you, Tom. We both know what happens when you attempt to Legilimize me and I counter-attack in the same way. It has happened before, remember? The intense pain – without us being able to extract anything from each other's mind? If you want to try again, I can certainly oblige."_

Voldemort's eyes seemed to spit fire, and they glinted with insane fury, just before he roared, "Crucio!"

Instantly, Orion swerved to a side, having expected just that, and the curse flew over his head. Swiftly, he shot forward a spread hand which burst with an intense spurt of black flames. In the bat of an eye, the flames had Voldemort tightly surrounded, and Orion jumped behind the wizard, standing on his tiptoes to wrap an arm over Voldemort's chest.

He brought his face to the wizard's ear, and whispered sharply, "_Listen to me, Tom. It doesn't matter who I wanted to shag. I didn't go through with it, and yes, it was because of the pain you caused through our link and the burning caused by my ring when you summoned me. Nevertheless, in the end, I didn't fuck anyone. __Do you hear?__" _

"_But you had the intention to, you admitted as much,"_ hissed Voldemort furiously, turning around his neck to side-glance at him, his crimson eyes narrowed and enraged. He viciously smirked, and added, _"And do you truly think that I can be stopped by your dark magic? I'm not afraid of pain, my little serpent."_

Swiftly, Voldemort turned around inside his cage of black flames, startling Orion who took a stumbling step backward, just as Voldemort's hands shot through the black flames, one hand tightly gripping Orion's throat, the other aiming his wand at Orion, while Voldemort spat, "Severita dolum!"

Orion shrieked in pain, still held up by Voldemort's fingers around his throat, while a deep gash tore open on his chest, blood spurting everywhere, his rib cage feeling as if it was about to snap and crush inwards. But he bit on his tongue, halting his scream, while he maintained the flow of his dark magic, fueling the dark flames which surrounded Voldemort.

With watery eyes, Orion pressed a palm against his torn, bleeding chest while he gazed at Voldemort, seeing the wizard's wrists being licked by the black flames of dark magic, peeling off scorched flesh and skin; Voldemort's face -faintly visible through the wall of fire- impassive, not expressing an ounce of pain while his wrists kept being consumed by the dark flames.

One of Voldemort's hand still clutched the wand, while the other was tightly gripping Orion's throat, and Orion saw that the wizard was about to cast another curse; surely the wizard would keep casting until he was subjected to so much pain that he would lose the control over his dark flames.

"_Stop this,"_ said Orion through gritted teeth, clawing at Voldemort's fingers which kept tightening around his throat. _"Let's discuss matters calmly. STOP THIS, you fool! Your wrists!"_

"_I don't care about pain,"_ hissed Voldemort enraged, his crimson eyes flashing madly. "Crucio!"

The curse inevitably struck Orion, since he was still held in place by Voldemort's grip on his throat, and his body violently convulsed while he was encompassed by wrecking waves of pain which felt as if his nerve-endings were snapping apart. But he was very used to such pain; he didn't scream this time and he was able to think through the burning waves of pain which attempted to ravage him.

He flung out his hands and instantly wrapped himself in his violently animated dark magic, feeling it rising and pouring out of him in an unleashed burst of blackness, just as he wanted, just as he directed it to do.

Orion dropped to his knees, haggardly breathing, his body still jerkily trembling and his torn chest still spurting alarming amounts of blood, as he caught sight of Voldemort being aggressively swooped into the air by a violent whirlpool of dark magic.

Wrapping an arm over his aching chest, he crouched on his knees, a palm still shot forward as he controlled his raw dark magic, making the now empty cage of flames vanish, recalling that magic back into him. In the mean time, he maintained alive the raw dark magic that had Voldemort trapped in a black vortex, while the wizard was furiously shouting curses. But all of them missed him, flying over his head or striking the floor and walls.

Orion cast a powerful shielding spell around himself to block any incoming curses, before he flicked his wand at his open chest, casting a healing spell; gritting his teeth together while his skin started to painfully knit back together. Then, he took a deep intake of breath, and jerked his spread palm to a side.

Instantly, the whirlpool of raw dark magic crashed Voldemort against a wall, and he saw the wizard slump to the floor, momentarily dazed. The minute he saw Voldemort about to jump to his feet, he fisted his hand, making his dark magic trap and pin the wizard on the floor, covered by a thick mantle of dense blackness.

Shakily standing up, his body aching in pain, Orion approached the wizard, who was spread eagled on the floor. Swiftly, he straddled Voldemort's waist, while his dark magic kept immobilizing the wizard, just as he directed it to do. His raw dark magic was now pulsing all around them, and it enveloped them in a mist of dense blackness, particularly thick around Voldemort, keeping him locked in place. Voldemort was fiercely struggling to break free, albeit without results, and his enraged crimson eyes snapped to Orion's as soon as he felt Orion's weight on him.

"_What is this?"_ he demanded in a low, furious hiss. _"The strange dark magic you've occasionally produced? You can control it – how? Since when?"_

"_It's my raw dark magic, the same I unwittingly unleashed in my father's cell in Azkaban, the one I used against my muggle Uncle, and the same that I unintentionally unleashed in the Department of Mysteries. But I can control it now. I learned to do so a while ago,"_ said Orion dismissively, while he gazed stoically at Voldemort's wrists, inwardly grimacing; his dark flames had scorched and peeled off the skin and flesh, leaving nothing but bones.

"_I'll find a way to counter it, my little serpent,"_ hissed Voldemort, dangerously narrowing his eyes at Orion. _"I won't be bested by this."_

Orion shot him a smug smirk. _"You're bested now, Tom – by me."_

Voldemort's eyes flashed with mad fury, and he spat, _"I'll find a way-"_

"_Yes, perhaps you will,"_ interrupted Orion nonchalantly, _"and I'll find a way to make my raw magic even more powerful."_ He shot him a wide, roguish grin. _"And yes, if someone could ever find a way to counter it, it would be you, wouldn't it, Tom? But for now, here you are, under my control."_ He dropped the grin and roughly raked his fingers through Voldemort's silky locks of hair, tightly grasping them as he brought his face inches away from Voldemort's, hissing sharply, _"Enough of this foolishness. I didn't come here to duel you, Tom, but to discuss some matters. If I release you, will you calmly talk with me, without attempting to curse me?"_

"_How dare you?"_ hissed Voldemort enraged. _"You attacked me with your black fire-"_

"_After you attempted to Crucio me,"_ interjected Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. _"And then you succeeded to cast on me a severing dark curse and a Cruciatus Curse as well. I dare say that we both hurt each other – let's call it even."_

"_Call it even?!"_ hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes sparkling with fury. _"I won't be-"_

But his words were cut short when Orion swiftly cast a silencing spell on him. Orion heavily sighed, and he calmly accommodated himself on Voldemort's waist, arching an eyebrow and smirking at him when he felt a hard bulge under him.

"_Well, well, well, Tom... Aroused after our little duel, are you?"_ he said silkily, his smirk widening while he pressed himself against Voldemort's clothed erection.

Voldemort's crimson eyes glinted in furious outrage, which just made Orion smirk more broadly, before he swiftly plucked Voldemort's wand from his hand, which was still pinned to the floor, as the rest of the wizard's body, by a mantle of vibrating, raw dark magic.

"_Yes you are, Tom, how very satisfying,"_ said Orion, devilishly grinning at him, while he played with Voldemort's wand, twirling it between his fingers. _"And I must admit, that it also had the same effect on me… You can feel it, surely."_ He bucked against him, grounding their hips together, smirking and eyeing him smugly. _"What a pair we make, eh? My dark magic arouses you, and when I see you all angered and menacing, it arouses me… We are a pair of sick fucks, but it seems that we belong together, wouldn't you say?"_

Voldemort, obviously, couldn't say a word since he was still under the influence of the silencing spell, though his lips were pressed into a taut, thin line, eyeing Orion with narrowed, furious crimson eyes.

"_Now,"_ continued Orion smugly, _"be a good boy and allow your spouse to heal your wrists. Though there isn't much you could do to refuse, is there?"_

He widely grinned at him, before he aimed his wand at Voldemort's ravaged, burned wrists, muttering a long string of healing spells.

Slowly, veins, flesh, nerves and skin started to grow back in the wizard's wrists, though not as perfectly as Orion would have liked; the new skin still looking a bit scorched.

"_You'll have to take some potions to heal completely,"_ he said calmly, before he gazed down at the large, ugly scar on his bloodied chest. _"And so should I."_

He glanced back at Voldemort, and asked nonchalantly, _"Have you calmed down? Are you ready to discuss matters without allowing your nasty temper to overrule you? Nod to say 'yes'."_

Voldemort's crimson eyes glinted with anger, his jaw tightly clenched, but he quickly gave a stiff nod of the head.

Orion arched an eyebrow. _"No, you're still mad, Tom. I'm not an idiot. You'll just curse me the first chance you get."_ He heavily sighed, waving his hand dismissively. _"Well, I am a patient man. I'll just make myself more comfortable."_

Shooting him a wide smirk, Orion pressed himself flat against Voldemort's body, rubbing their clothed arousals together, while he propped himself on his elbows, each on either side of the wizard's head.

"_You know, I'm mightily glad that you can't aim any wandless and nonverbal curses at me since your hands are pinned to the floor by my dark magic,"_ said Orion conversationally. _"I'm sure you must be itching to do so, Tom. Alas, I'm making you behave."_ He flashed him with a broad, impish grin, before he whispered into his ear, _"And I love to have you under me like this, Tom. So many ideas come up to my mind… Things I would like to do to you, only if you weren't so angry, of course. I still have to watch my back around you."_

He moved his face to be inches away from Voldemort's, carding his fingers through the wizard's silky, black hair, and whispered against his lips, _"Now, let me tell you my side of things."_ He bore his eyes into Voldemort's crimson ones, and continued quietly, _"It's true that I was about to shag someone. I must admit that I wasn't entirely myself when it happened. You must have felt my desire but also something weird from me, right?"_

Voldemort's eyes pierced into his, and he nodded, so Orion continued, _"Well, I guess I should be honest, you wouldn't believe me otherwise. I was practicing a Necromantic spell that Vagnarov had taught us during my last Necromancy lesson. It's quite powerful and I couldn't control it well, so my Necromantic powers took a hold over me, and suddenly, I could see souls. You see, that was the purpose of the spell. I was practicing it in my dorm, since it was empty, and quite frankly, Hogwarts doesn't have the wards to detect such unique magic. Anyway, I had cast the spell on me, but I had stupidly forgotten to lock the door of my dormitory, and a girl came in. Remember Lavender Brown, the chit I courted for a while to make Dumbledore believe I was interested in having a girlfriend? Well, she's been very persistent as of lately, since I keep rejecting her, and she came in to see me while I was under the influence of the spell. So when I saw her, all I could see was a bright, pure white soul, and it enticed me… I must admit that I instantly desired her, and I took her to my bed, undressed her, and-"_

Orion clamped his mouth shut, gritting his teeth, when he felt a flare of pain bursting along his scar. He glared at Voldemort, who had his crimson eyes narrowed angrily at him, and snapped,_ "What's the matter?"_

Voldemort's eyes narrowed to slits, the pain in Orion's forehead becoming unbearable, and he finally spat, _"Very well, very well, stop that! I'll remove the silencing spell, alright?"_

The piercing pain suddenly disappeared, and Orion flicked his wand at Voldemort.

Instantly, the wizard hissed furiously, _"You're trying to make me believe that you wanted to bed a girl? No matter under what influence you were, you can't expect me to swallow that blatant lie-"_

"_Fine, it was a boy-"_

"_Which isn't relevant, anyway," _hissed Voldemort angrily, his eyes dangerously narrowed. _"Try honesty for once-"_

"_Like you?" _snarled Orion, gripping the wizard's chin. _"You've done nothing but conceal things from me-"_

"_So have you," _spat Voldemort, his crimson eyes flashing. _"Regardless, lie all you want to me, because I will find out who it was, and I will kill him. You hear, boy? I won't allow my own spouse to go around bedding others-"_

"_What if I want to have a lover?"_ snapped Orion angrily, narrowing his eyes at him. _"It's vastly accepted for a dark pureblood to have lovers when he's married-"_

"_You're a half-blood-"_

"_So are you, Tom, but both of us behave following dark pureblood standards, don't we?__ First and foremost, I am a Black and you are a Gaunt."_

"_That's inconsequential__ in this matter,"_ snarled Voldemort enraged. _"I won't have you cuckolding me – you're mine! My spouse!"_

"_What if I want to __experiment with others?"_ bit out Orion, glaring at him. _"You had countless lovers in the past, you satisfied yourself with them, but I married you too young, I didn't have time to-"_

"_That's it? You want to experiment?"_ hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes flashing, a wide smirk curving his lips_. "I can allow that if you want."_

Startled, Orion gazed at him, brought short by the wizard's sudden compliance. Instantly, he narrowed his eyes, and demanded, _"You would?"_

"_Of course, my little serpent,"_ hissed Voldemort calmly. _"I understand a wizard's need to indulge in some sexual experimentation. Release me, and we'll discuss the matter."_

Orion scoffed. _"You're mad if you think I believe you-"_

"_Trust me this once,"_ said Voldemort quietly, boring his crimson eyes into Orion's. _"I won't curse you, I won't attack you in retribution – I promise."_

Orion frowned, inspecting him carefully, while Voldemort nonchalantly gazed back at him.

"_Very well,"_ said Orion crisply, pocketing Voldemort's wand and casting a warding spell on the pocket. "But I'm not giving you your wand back until I deem it appropriate. And quite frankly, I'm too tired to be lying on top of you, on the floor." He narrowed his eyes at the wizard, and added sharply, _"If you hurt me, I'll hurt you back, Tom, and I won't restrain myself. What happened to your wrists will be a fond memory for you."_

"_Very well,"_ hissed Voldemort impassively. _"I have no intention of hurting you."_ He smirked widely. _"After all, you were gracious enough to heal me, and as you say, we should discuss matters more comfortably, as well as drink some potions to finish healing our injuries."_

"_Quite," _said Orion flatly, standing up and away from the wizard.

Inwardly, he was glad that he would be calling back his dark magic; it was draining to keep it out for so long and after all what he had done during the day he was exhausted. He just wanted to sit down and relaxedly rest for a while. Oh, he had no delusions that Voldemort was being honest, but he could deal with whatever the wizard decided to dish at him.

He shot the wizard one last mistrustful glance, letting him know he wasn't fooled, before he briefly closed his eyes, extending what he had pegged as his 'magical consciousness' – the feeling that he could sense everything around the room through the raw dark magic that was pulsing and vibrating all around his surroundings. Then, he tugged it, and his raw dark magic instantly obeyed, coming to him like rolling waves of intense magic, plunging into him, over and over again. And he gasped in intense elation and pleasure as he felt refilled and complete, his magical core animatedly vibrating inside him, as if happily embracing a returning friend.

He felt a caress along his cheek, and a whispered hiss, "_You've become very powerful, my little serpent… I wonder how you have managed it…" _

Orion snapped open his eyes, taking a step back from Voldemort, who was standing inches away from him. And he swiftly whipped out his wand, his posture alert in case the wizard tried anything.

Voldemort glanced at the wand aimed at him, utterly unfazed. Then he widely smirked at him, and calmly strode away, summarily snapping his fingers and calling for a house-elf.

Orion observed him as the wizard instructed a house-elf to bring them some potions, still with his wand drawn and aimed at Voldemort.

In a few seconds, the house-elf popped back into the room, handing several vials to Voldemort, before it swiftly disappeared again with a low bow of his head.

"_Here, for your wound,"_ hissed Voldemort, thrusting a vial into Orion's hand, before quickly drinking down a potion himself.

Orion suspiciously inspected the potion, sniffing at it. When he was satisfied that it was indeed a healing potion, he gulped it down, sighing in contentment when he felt a warm pulse along the knitted gash of his chest wound. He vanished the empty vial with a flick of his wand, and gazed down at his chest, touching it; it was completely healed, not even a scar remained behind. Of course, he still had the scar from the Manticore's poisoned dart, but as always when he visited Voldemort, it was invisible under a glamour.

"_So you wish to experiment?"_ came a sharp hiss from behind him, at the same time that he felt strong arms roughly wrap around him. _"I will give you that, and you'll be sorry to have asked, my little serpent!"_

Startled, before he could gather his wits, Orion felt the tightening pull of being drawn into an apparition, and his surroundings blurred in a mesh of colors.

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**AN: **

Okay, there's something I have to say about Draco. In my fic, Draco is very similar to canon Draco - someone spoiled, bit spineless, very smart and intelligent as a student, normal in his magical skills, certainly not outwardly brave, and not tough enough to be a killer – but I must point out that we haven't seen much of Draco, neither in this fic or in the Black Heir, therefore, we don't really know much about Draco. There are many facets of Draco's personality that we haven't seen, and there's a lot of room for character development, given all that Draco still has to go through. As for Draco knowing nothing about Orion's secrets, well, that easily fixed if Orion decided to confide in Draco. At present, he can't, since Draco is a Death Eater in frequent contact with Voldemort, but later… who knows… And remember that Draco is a Death Eater, and he therefore hears the rumors in the Death Eater ranks, rumors pertaining, for example, to what Orion did in the Death Chamber, when his dark magic burst out of him when he was pulling out Lezander from the Veil.

Ah, and in the last chapter, Orion and Draco didn't go all the way. Orion was about to have sex with him, before he kissed him one more time, starting to feed on his soul.

About the horcruxes and pieces of soul: Orion cannot, in any way, remove the piece of soul inside him. This has been discussed throughout the Black Heir (BH) fic, as well as in this one. In the BH, Voldemort specifically told him that the piece of soul had completely merged with Orion's, and that to try to rip it from him would mean his death. Furthermore, after all his research, Orion knows that only the original maker of the horcrux can destroy a horcrux, with the exception if the horcrux is destroyed by a powerful light magical artifact –like Gryffindor's sword. Orion managed to transfer the piece of soul of the Gaunt ring thanks to his Necromantic powers, but with his Necromantic powers alone he wouldn't be able to destroy a horcrux since he isn't the one who created the horcruxes. He would need something like Gryffindor's sword; he knows this already. Moreover, due to what Orion said to Voldemort's corpse in the visions, he knows that it's implied that he destroyed the horcruxes and that he killed all of Voldemort, meaning that the piece of soul inside Orion had also been destroyed. In his discussion with Grindelwald about the visions, Orion clearly stated that he doesn't know how it's possible that the piece of soul inside him could be destroyed without killing him in the process, and Grindelwald pointed out that perhaps it could happen through Orion's death, meaning that Voldemort attempted to kill him and that he survived thanks to his Necromantic abilities, and that his 'death' destroyed the piece of soul inside him even when he survived. Neither Grindelwald nor Orion know how this could really happen, but remember what happened in canon… In conclusion, even if he wanted, Orion himself cannot rip from him the piece of soul inside him since it's completely fused with his own soul, and he cannot destroy the piece of soul either. The only way is if Voldemort killed him, and Orion doesn't know what would happen in that instance; he knows that the horcrux in him would probably be destroyed but not if he would survive 'death'. Anyway, this is something he cannot do himself.

On another note, it's true that Dementors hunger for souls because they don't have one themselves, and because the creatures were once Necromancers and for a Necromancer a soul is the most precious thing. But Orion acted like a Dementor because of the ring; Orion has his own soul but the ring magnified his Necromantic abilities, with all its implications, such as the lust and hunger for souls. When wearing the ring, Orion will feel all of these things, even if he has a soul himself. Furthermore, it's true that he could consume souls when wearing the ring, and that such act would make him stronger and more powerful, but Orion would never consider this as a way to become more powerful in order to survive the Vindico Test. There's so much that's he's willing to do to attain his goals, and consuming souls isn't one of them, since, like for every Necromancer, a soul is the most precious thing. And Orion would never, ever, consume his own father's soul just to have more power. That wouldn't even cross his mind. True, if he manages to resurrect Sirius, the wizard will not like what Orion has been doing, but Orion wouldn't consider killing his father just to save himself the trouble of dealing with an angry, problematic Sirius Black. Orion loves his father, he wants him back, and that's it; he's more than willing to deal with the consequences. Furthermore, if Orion did consume a soul, he knows that this would start to transform him into a Dementor, and that's something he definitely doesn't want.

One last thing. A reviewer asked me a while back how magical capacity worked. In my fic, the potency and depths of a wizard's magic depends on his blood, and it is that blood that determines how much power a wizard has. For instance, now Orion has reached a level of power that makes him have an aura around him which he can no longer cloak, just like it happens to Dumbledore, Voldemort and Grindelwald. It doesn't mean that his powers can't develp further. Certainly, each wizard has his own top limit, determined by his blood, but whether a wizard reaches his full capacity depends if the wizard excercises his magic. For instance, if Orion had never learned that he was a Black, and thus had dark blood and could wield dark magic, then he would have never excercised his dark magic, it wouldn't have developed, it would have been dormant inside him, and if this had go on for many years, then Orion wouldn't have access to it, since the dark magic was never excercised and developed, and he certainly wouldn't have reached the levels of power he has now. Moreover, since Orion also has Potter light blood and muggleborn blood from James and Lily, respectively, he can use light magic, since it also runs in his veins. So if Orion hadn't learned and practiced to develop his dark magic, he would have only wielded light magic. Furthermore, in my fic all wizards, no matter their blood, can cast mild spells like those learned in Transfiguration and Charms, but only a dark wizard can learn to cast powerful dark spells like the Unforgivables, and only light wizard can master other light spells which haven't been mentioned. That's what differentiates dark and light wizards; the blood they have, the type of magic they can wield, and the type of spells, powerful ones, which they can master, since they had been created for their respective kind. For example, it was mentioned a while ago that a powerful light wizard could learn how to cast the Avada Kedavra, even when it was created by dark wizards to be used by their own kind, but a light wizard would have a harder time in mastering it, it wouldn't come easily to him, it would feel unnatural to him, and the consequences for the light wizard would be negative, because the spell wasn't created to be used by a light wizard. The consequences are that the soul is split if you cast the Killing Curse, but the dark magic of a dark wizard would restore the wizard's soul if he didn't regret killing -since the killing curse is intended to be used by a dark wizard- but the same doesn't apply to a light wizard; a light wizard's soul wouldn't be restored, and the damage would only be diminished, but not fully healed, if the light wizard repented, which is the exact opposite of the dark wizard's case. All of this means that Light and Dark magic behave differently in their respective wizards. Nevertheless, the point is that every wizard has a top limit for his powers, determined by his blood, but whether he reaches that level depends if the wizard practices his magic, making it grow and develop to reach it's full capacity.

**Note:** The pics are now uploaded in the yahoo group for the Black Heir, it seems that I didn't upload them correctly the first time. Now, you can find them in the Photo album for characters; they are the last 29 pictures of the album and they can be enlarged by clicking at 'large' on the top of the box where the pic is displayed.


	9. The heartfelt confession

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN:**

Thanks to all reviewers!

Now, I would like to clarify some things that have been mentioned.

Orion can use his full powers –and he used them in his duel with Voldemort- because while the potion he's taking cloaks his magic inside him so that he has no visible magical aura that can be sensed by others, it still allows him the use of all of his magic. Grindelwald told him this when he offered the potion as a solution. The consequences of the potion are that it will progressively weaken Orion's body, not his powers, and if Orion takes it for more than six months, he would die since the potion is basically a poison.

Dementors suck a soul when they Kiss a person, and they slowly feed on that soul for many decades, ultimately consuming all of it, obliterating it from existence. The Resurrection Stone gave Orion the capacity to do this, but Orion only fed briefly on Draco's soul, he didn't have the time to suck it. If he had sucked it, he would have been turned into a Dementor-like being, irreversibly. But Orion only had time to act like Dementors act when feeding a bit on a wizard's soul, like what happened in canon to Harry Potter when a Dementor fed from him in the Hogwarts train. In that instance, the Dementor fed from Harry, making him relive a terrible memory - the memory of the day the Potters were killed- but it didn't suck Harry's soul. That's what Orion did to Draco, he fed briefly, sucking some essence of Draco's soul, but that was it. No lasting damage was done to Draco, in the same way that Harry didn't suffer any lasting damage either. Nevertheless, now Orion has a bit of Draco in him, so yeah, it bonds them in some unique way because that essence of Draco will always be in Orion. Orion isn't a Dementor, so that essence won't be consumed by him throughout the years, it will remain inside him.

If Orion decided that Voldemort had to die, he would destroy the horcruxes, not absorb the pieces of soul. True, if he did this, he would probably gain the magic of the bits of soul, making him more powerful, but remember that Orion already has a piece of soul inside him and if he allowed another one to merge into him that Tom would probably have too much power over him. Like Orion said to the Tom of the Resurrection Stone, if Tom merged with him, Tom would be strong enough to posses him, so Orion wouldn't risk that, he wouldn't absorb the other pieces of soul. Not to mention that Orion would never want to mess with his own soul, he wants to keep it pure and untarnished from other influences, even though it's already affected by the piece of soul inside him. And Orion wouldn't feed off the pieces of soul either by using the Resurrection Stone, since if he sucked one soul, even if it's a piece of one soul, it would turn him into a Dementor-like being, he would be hungering for souls always.

As Nocturnal Bastard rightly pointed out, in canon the Gryffindor Sword can destroy horcruxes, and it has basilisk venom. Nevertheless, Orion doesn't know this and he doesn't know that basilisk venom can destroy a horcrux since in this fic the diary was never destroyed; that Tom killed Ginny and obtained a body, and then merged with the master soul of Voldemort, creating what Voldemort is at present, a wizard with the looks of a thirty year old man, not the scaly being of canon. What Orion knows about horcruxes, and how to destroy them, he has learned from Salazar Slytherin's journals and from Sylvester Slytherin's book on Parsel Rituals for the Soul. He knows the spells to create horcruxes, and he knows much more about horcruxes than canon Harry, but he doesn't have the experience that canon Harry had with the use of basilisk venom. It is implied that the books on horcruxes that Orion read didn't mention basilisk venom as something that could completely destroy a horcrux.

**Warning:** SLASH CONTENT. Don't like it – skip it.

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**Chapter 9**

He was flung on a bed, something was hissed, and before he knew it, he was in Voldemort bedroom; his arms tautly bounded to the posts of the large bed by snakes coiled around his wrists, his wand had been thrown to the floor, and his clothes discarded by a jerk of Voldemort's hand, leaving him utterly naked. Now, the wizard was towering over him, with his own wand in hand and a vicious smirk on his face, the crimson eyes flashing with deep satisfaction and maliciousness, as they trailed over him.

And Orion damned himself for dropping his guard for a second, before he furiously snarled, jerking his wrists against the snakes which bound them to the posts, _"You said you wouldn't hurt me, Tom! Is this how I'm supposed to trust you?"_

Voldemort flicked his wand, making one of the snakes disappear, and he roughly clutched Orion's now unbounded wrist, pulling it in front of Orion's face.

"_Trust,"_ hissed Voldemort angrily, touching the wedding ring on Orion's finger – the Slytherin heirloom which had been spelled so that only them could see it and sense it by touch - and bringing it close to Orion's eyes. _"Trust is this, Orion; having given you one of my horcruxes to guard! Trust is telling you about my plans for the Mayan Stone, and confiding in you my plans for the war. Trust is allowing you to keep the Gaunt ring horcrux, and asking nothing in return!"_

He roughly dropped Orion's hand, and gripped Orion's chin, painfully jerking it upwards, as he hissed enraged, _"Trust is what I had in you; to never cheat on me with someone else-"_

"_Yes, all that is trust,_" spat Orion heatedly, wrenching his face away from the wizard's grasp, while he crouched against the bed's headboard, one of his arms still bounded by a snake. "_And I have trusted you in return, by telling you that I wanted to have a lover before actually getting one, before actually cheating on you! I don't want one now, but perhaps in the future. Now, release me, or I'll use my raw dark magic to attack you!_"

"_I dare you to try again,_" hissed Voldemort enraged, narrowing his crimson eyes at him. "_I'll crucio you until you're utterly incapacitated before you manage it! I will not have my own spouse threatening and attacking me!_"

"_Fine,"_ snapped Orion, darkly glaring at him. _"Then release me and let's talk about this without fighting!"_

"_Well do much more than talk,"_ hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes flashing, before he flicked his wand and the last snake disappeared.

Now, finally free, Orion quickly accioed his wand, which came shooting into his spread hand, and he swiftly aimed it at Voldemort, who merely viciously smirked at him.

Suddenly, there was a polite knock on the door, and Voldemort's smirk widened, before he strode towards the door.

"_Who's that?_" demanded Orion, startled, quickly wrapping his naked body with the bed cover.

Voldemort turned around just as he reached the door, and drawled, "_I've improved the Dark Mark. Now, I can summon my followers with a thought, my little serpent. And the Death Eater I've called will suit my purpose."_

"_What purpose?"_ said Orion, utterly befuddled.

"_You wanted to experiment, yes?"_ hissed Voldemort, maliciously smirking at him. _"If you want to fuck others, you'll do it in my presence. And Rabastan will help us with that. I'll observe while he takes you, and then I'll take you. We'll take turns with you until I'm utterly satisfied."_ His crimson eyes flashed, and he added with a vicious leer, _"Or perhaps we'll fuck you at the same time. It would be vastly pleasurable – for me, of course, don't you think?"_

"_WHAT?!"_ choked out Orion, his eyes wide, horrified. _"I never meant that! I don't want that-"_

In a blink of an eye, Voldemort was by his side, painfully clutching his face, as he hissed sharply, "_You wanted to experiment, and you will. You asked for this-_"

"_I never asked for what you're suggesting!_" spat Orion heatedly, glowering at him. _"And you very well know it, Tom. I won't have you sharing me as if I was a piece of meat-"_

"_Or perhaps you would like to try with someone else?"_ hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes flashing. _"Perhaps, when I release Lucius from Azkaban, I will allow him to have a go at you. I know that he likes pretty things, either female or male. I'm sure he'll take great pleasure in you-"_

"_Lucius was my guardian – like a father to me, however briefly!"_ snapped Orion, utterly appalled. _"How can you even suggest-"_

Another knock was heard from the door, and Voldemort swiftly strode towards it. Quickly, Orion jumped to his feet, rushing towards him, and tightly gripping his arm, roughly turning him around.

"_This is not what I want and you know it,"_ he gritted out, glaring up at Voldemort, eyeing him with disgusted hurt and anger. _"Would you truly share me with one of your Death Eaters, Tom? Trading me around your Inner Circle?"_ He gripped the wizard's collar, and demanded madly, _"Would you, Tom?!"_

"_It's either this or nothing!"_ snarled Voldemort, his crimson eyes flashing in fury. He clutched Orion's chin, and hissed enraged, _"I don't want you to be with anyone else - you're my spouse! But if you want to experience what it is bedding someone else, then you'll do it in my presence and with someone I choose! And I'll take part in it!"_

"_That's disgusting, contemptible-"_

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him, and hissed sharply, _"It's what I offer-"_

"_Then, I don't want it,"_ spat Orion, taking a step away from him, eyeing him with loathing. _"I would never bed someone I don't want to. I would choose my own lover, not whom you select-"_

"_You'll have no lovers!"_ hissed Voldemort enraged, towering over him. _"It's this or nothing. And if I ever find out that you've taken someone, I'll kill him and I'll make you rue your decision!"_

"_Send him away,"_ said Orion sharply, pointing at the door. _"Send Rabastan away before I lose my patience and he hears us trading dark curses!"_

"_I will if you give me a Wizard's Oath that you won't take any lovers,"_ hissed Voldemort in deadly tone of voice. _"The bonding vows we took-"_

"_Oh, don't you dare throw that in my face!"_ snapped Orion incensed, his green eyes flashing with anger. _"I have kissed others, yes, but I haven't been unfaithful to you – I haven't bedded anyone! And I would never suggest choosing one of my cronies to fuck you, taking turns! And I don't even know if you haven't shagged anyone all this time-_"

"_I haven't,"_ snarled Voldemort angrily. _"Unlike you, I can restrain myself. Give me a Wizard's Oath, and I'll allow the matter to rest."_

Orion crossed his arms over his chest, and hissed sharply, _"I'll give you an Oath if you do the same."_

Voldemort flared up at once. _"I will not-"_

"_Then forget about it!"_ yelled Orion heatedly. _"I will admit no double standards between us, Tom!"_

"_I will not allow my magic to be bounded by an Oath that can turn me into a Squib!" _

"_Neither will I!"_ spat Orion hotly, glaring up at him. _"It's either a shared Oath, or nothing, Tom - nothing but trust between us."_

"_Trust?"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. _"Then you will not take a lover? I have your word on that?"_

"_You have my word that I'll tell you about it, if I decide to take a lover, obviously without giving you a name,"_ said Orion, glowering at him. _"But I will not promise to never take a lover. I will not promise something I'm not sure I'll be able to fulfill for the rest of my life! And I want you to-" _

"_For the rest of your life?"_ hissed Voldemort, his expression suddenly turning calculatingly pensive. _"Yes… I suppose that's a very long time to limit ourselves in such way."_

Orion frowned at him. _"What do you mean?"_

"_I'm willing to reach a compromise on the matter,"_ said Voldemort calmly, smirking at him, his crimson eyes glinting. _"After all, I am going to live forever, and you'll live for a long time as well, given that you have vampire blood in you. Indeed, it's not realistic for us to believe that we won't desire to bed others. And I think that my solution is perfect."_

"_What is it, then?"_ demanded Orion, eyeing him suspiciously.

"_If we're interested in bedding someone else, we'll tell each other before doing it-" _

Orion snidely scoffed. _"You're mad. You'll kill whomever I tell you about-_"

"_Not if you tell me first, before bedding that person,"_ interjected Voldemort, widely smirking at him, _"and not if we do it together."_ He roughly caressed Orion's cheek, and hissed sharply, _"I don't like to be excluded, my little serpent. Furthermore, there's much pleasure to be had when sharing one person. I think I would enjoy sharing someone with you. As long as you always understand that you are, first and foremost, mine – my spouse."_

Orion gaped at him, before he clamped his mouth shut, a deep frown spreading over his forehead while he scrutinized the wizard. _"Let me understand this. You'll be okay with it if I take a lover as long as I tell you who it is and as long as bed him in your presence, or with you taking part in it?"_

"_That's right," _hissed Voldemort silkily, smirking at him.

"_I don't think I would find anyone who would agree to such thing-"_

Voldemort snorted, gazing down at him with a devious smirk playing on his lips. _"Don't be naïve, my little serpent. Indulging in threesomes is something vastly done in our circles. And you'll see that it's very pleasurable. Not to mention that I can seduce anyone, if I want to. Whomever you choose will be willing after I persuade him."_

"_Persuade him?"_ said Orion, frowning at him. _"Not forcibly, not by using spells or potions-"_

"_Of course not,"_ hissed Voldemort, looking affronted and offended. _"I have no need to force anyone into my bed. There're numerous wizards and witches who'd be more than willing to-"_

"_Yeah, yeah, I don't need the list of those who are vying for your sexual attentions,"_ snapped Orion, a spark of piercing jealousy flaring up inside him.

Voldemort smugly smirked at him, intently observing him. _"My, my… jealous, are you?"_

"_So what?"_ said Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. _"I don't like it when others pant after you, just like you don't like it when it happens to me. We're both possessive of each other, you know that already-_"

"_Yes, we are," _hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes glinting with deep satisfaction, _"that's why the best solution is to be honest with each other when we want to bed someone, and to share the experience together. That way, we'll know what happens, and two of us will have no reason to feel jealous, knowing that we are the main couple."_

Orion swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry, before he said slowly, with a small frown on his face, _"Yes, I think you're right, but I… Well, it had never crossed my mind… I don't really know how it would work… but I can imagine it…"_

"_Believe me, my little serpent," _hissed Voldemort silkily,_ "a threesome is very satisfactory. So, do you agree?"_

Orion snapped his eyes to his, and said sharply, _"If you choose someone I don't like, then I can refuse, and you won't get to bed that person either. And you absolutely can't choose Bellatrix."_

"_Done,"_ hissed Voldemort, his voice sounding highly satisfied with himself, _"if the same applies to you. If I don't agree with your selection, then nothing will happen; not between you two nor between the three of us."_

"_Of course that the same applies to me,"_ said Orion waspishly. _"Unlike you, when I suggest things I'm not doing it on double standards. What I expect from you is the same I expect from myself."_

"_Good,"_ hissed Voldemort, smirking at him. _"Then, we have deal, don't we? You can't have a lover unless you tell me first and unless we share that person. Depending on whom, I'll either watch or participate, but I'll always be there. After all, you'll always be my spouse. This is mightily generous of me, you must see this."_

"_Yes, it is, in your own warped way,"_ said Orion, eyeing him closely. _"But I think that you rather like this deal."_

"_I do," _silkily hissed Voldemort, his smirk widening. _"I never considered our sex-life in the long-run; I've been busy with much more important matters, of course. But, given your raging hormones, I think it wise to settle the matter once and for all. Shared lovers or no lovers at all. Agreed?"_

Orion hesitated for a second, his mind swirling, since he sincerely didn't know who would agree to something like this; Draco never would, surely. Though, it was fair; surprisingly so, coming from Voldemort. And frankly, he was curious about it. Voldemort certainly knew how to spice things up. Nevertheless, even if he saw the potential and even if he was aroused by thinking about the possibilities, he still felt apprehension. What if Voldemort, during their explorations, became infatuated with someone else? What if the wizard came to prefer someone over him? But it was a risk, he knew, that both of them were taking. Furthermore, as Voldemort said, they were spouses, first and foremost. And he didn't see how he could possibly desire and love someone more intensely than what he felt for Voldemort.

"_Yes, I agree,"_ he said, gazing up at him. He frowned, and added uncomfortably, _"But what would happen if you…"_ He clenched his jaw, before raising his chin, saying sharply, _"What if you came to prefer someone else over me?"_

Voldemort arched an eyebrow, before he widely smirked. _"Worried that someone else could steal your place in my heart?"_

"_What heart?" _scoffed Orion.

"_True,"_ hissed Voldemort, his smirk broadening. _"I must amend my words. Afraid that I'll come to lust after someone other than you? That I'll come to desire someone more than I desire you?" _

"_Yes, perhaps, I do,"_ said Orion coolly, eyeing him intently.

Voldemort's lips quirked upwards. _"What a little hypocrite you are, my little serpent. You had no qualms about taking a lover of your own, with the intention of keeping it a secret from me. Yet, you don't want me to do the same."_

"_I don't,"_ said Orion crisply, crossing his arms over his chest. _"I admit it openly. I don't want someone pawing you-"_

"_Then this new compromise between us is perfect, isn't it?"_ hissed Voldemort, his expression highly satisfied. _"Lovers will only be that, shared by us, and we'll be the ones with control and power over the situation."_

"_Yeah, I suppose,"_ said Orion, frowning at him. He unfolded his arms, and added, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, _"You must understand that I'm not ready to put our deal into practice…" _He cleared his throat. _"Not right away. I think I'll need a bit of more time, and I definitely want to be the first to decide when it happens and with whom… But don't expect it to be soon… I have other things to worry about, and well… I just need to become used to the idea-_"

"_I perfectly understand,"_ hissed Voldemort, smirking at him. _"Take all the time you need, I'm in no rush. And I can concede to you the first choice."_

"_Right, thanks,"_ muttered Orion.

"_Now,"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, caressing Orion's cheek, _"will you tell me with whom you were when I summoned you?"_

Orion's eyes snapped to his, narrowing, and he said flatly, _"No. And you should forget about it. I didn't shag that person in the end, and our new deal changes everything. I will not have you hunting down and hurting that person. It was entirely my fault. You have no reason to be angry at, or to blame anyone, but me."_

"_You will not tell me?"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, his crimson eyes narrowing.

"_No,"_ replied Orion curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. _"We dueled and injured each other because of it, and that's the end of it. You should let it lie down." _He arched an eyebrow, and defiantly gazed back at him._ "It doesn't matter now, not after our new pact, wouldn't you say?"_

After a brief stretch of silence, Voldemort drawled indifferently, _"Yes, you're right."_

The wizard made a move to open the door, but Orion quickly halted him, and said with alarm, _"What are you going to do?"_

"_Why, I'm going to tell my Death Eater that he can leave,"_ said Voldemort, arching an eyebrow at him. _"Rabastan has been patiently waiting for far too long."_

"_You didn't tell him why you called him, did you?"_ demanded Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. _"You didn't tell him that you wanted him to…" _He cleared his throat, and added angrily, _"Well, to fuck me while you watched, or while you took turns."_

Voldemort smirked at him. _"So gullible still, my little serpent. No, I didn't tell him because I had no intention to allow such thing." _

"_But – but you,"_ spluttered Orion outraged. _"But the new deal! I thought that -"_

"_Our new deal was an inspiration which suddenly struck me,"_ hissed Voldemort, looking utterly smug about himself. _"Nevertheless, I'm quite satisfied with it. Indeed, it will prove interesting and quite pleasurable for me – and you, I'm certain."_ He gazed at Orion's nude body, and sharply commanded,_ "Now, clothe yourself or spell yourself invisible. I don't want others leering at you."_

Orion huffed, before he tapped his head with his wand's tip, summarily disillusioning himself.

Shooting him a last glance, Voldemort smirked and opened the door, but Orion paid little attention to what the wizard was saying to Rabastan; he was inwardly fuming, with his invisible arms crossed over his chest.

After a few moments, he decided that it was quite pointless to be angry about the whole matter; he was satisfied with their compromise as well, however awkward it would be at first. But he was willing to enjoy himself when the time came.

He perched on the bed, utterly expecting to have his fun with Voldemort soon. Though there were some other matters he had to discuss with the wizard. Wandlessly, he accioed his discarded robes, which immediately came shooting into his hands.

When he heard the door being closed, and Voldemort's smooth strides along the carpeted floors, he cancelled the disillusionment charm, seating on the bed with his legs crossed, his robes besides him and something he had plucked out from his pocket in his hands.

"_You haven't robed yourself,"_ hissed Voldemort, widely smirking at him while his intense crimson gaze travelled over him. _"I see that you're quite eager for me to take you-"_

"_Yes, in a minute,"_ interrupted Orion, broadly grinning at him, while he flicked his wand at the wizard, instantly divesting him from his clothes.

Voldemort merely arched an eyebrow, before he shot him a leering smirk, swiftly making a move to pin Orion under him.

Chuckling, Orion ducked and slipped away from him, standing up besides the bed. He clicked his tongue, and said tauntingly, _"I see that I'm not the only one eager, Tom. Regardless, that's not the reason why I undressed you."_ He smirked devilishly, and hissed, _"Come to me. Stand before me."_

"_I don't tak__e orders from you, impish brat."_

"_Yes you do, you'__re my spouse; sometimes I obey you, and sometimes you obey me, that's how it works," _snapped Orion impatiently. _"Now, come here and stop wasting time that could be spent in more pleasurable activities."_

Quirking an eyebrow, showing reluctant curiosity, Voldemort stood in front of him, in all his unabashed naked glory, smirking smugly when he saw Orion's heated gaze trailing over him.

"_Yes,"_ hissed Orion with deep satisfaction, _"you'll look great with it. Oh, I'll make sure to remember this image of you."_

"_What are you-"_

"_Hush,"_ whispered Orion, while he stood on his tiptoes and opened his palm, swiftly clasping the Black heirloom necklace around Voldemort's neck, before he neatly arranged the pendant to hang on the wizard's chest, the small emeralds and black sapphires sparkling under the candle light.

He took a step back and widely smiled, as he gazed at the wizard in front of him, savoring every detail and committing the image to his memory. _"Perfect. It's perfect for you. I knew it."_

Voldemort slightly frowned, holding the pendant in between his fingers, before he gazed up at Orion with an arched eyebrow. _"A Black heirloom?"_

"_Yes, as befits my spouse,"_ said Orion smugly. _"You gave me a Slytherin heirloom as my wedding ring. Now, I give you a Black heirloom. Both of us will be wearing something of the other's bloodline. Do you feel it?"_

"_Feel what? – a horcrux!"_ hissed Voldemort, gazing at him with a scrutinizing expression on his face. _"Yes, it is… yet I don't feel uncomfortable with it. I feel the tug, but it's very faint. Not strong enough to be annoying. How did you-"_

"_I found a spell in a parsel book that was gifted to me,"_ replied Orion, smirking at him. _"Sylvester Slytherin's book of 'Parsel Rituals for the Soul'-"_

"_Slytherin's grandson's book," _hissed Voldemort, his expression briefly perplexed and surprised, before his crimson eyes pierced Orion._ "Who gifted it to you? I looked for it for decades-"_

"_My old childhood tutor gave it to me, when he discovered that I was a parselmouth. I think he didn't know what to do with the book, since he couldn't read it," _smoothly lied Orion.

The book had been Gregorovitch's after all, Ragnarok had surely handed it to him obeying Gregorovitch's command, since they had both been part of the Aux Atrum. Well, that was before Gregorovitch had been killed by Voldemort, and he didn't know what Ragnarok was up to these days, he hadn't seen the old wizard in ages.

He quickly pushed away a flare of anger caused by remembering the vision of how Voldemort had killed Gregorovitch, and he continued his explanation, "_There was a spell in the book, quite tricky to master, I must admit. Regardless, the spell is used to 'cushion' the horcrux – Sylvester's words – so that the wizard with the master piece of soul wouldn't feel uncomfortable by wearing the horcrux, since the spell partly mutes the 'tug' between the pieces of soul."_ He flashed him with a wide grin. _"Like this, unlike with your other horcruxes with the exception of Nagini, you'll always be able to carry it around with you."_

"_Magnificent,"_ hissed Voldemort, his expression elated as he gazed at the Black horcrux. He stared at Orion with a greedily eager glint in his crimson eyes, and silkily hissed, _"Will you gift the book to me, as well?"_

Orion let out a bark of laughter, before he smirked at him. _"Absolutely not. I treasure my books as much as you do, Tom. There's no way I'll part from it."_

"_The book is useless to you,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. _"You don't have horcruxes, or any intention to create one. I, on the other hand, could learn much from it-"_

"_That's exactly why I won't give it to you,"_ interjected Orion, arching an eyebrow. _"Do you really think that I would give a book called 'Parsel Rituals for the Soul' to you, of all people? As if making horcruxes wasn't horrible enough, that book is filled with other nasty and foolish rituals to supposedly strengthen a wizard's body and magnify a wizard's power by messing with the soul."_ He pierced Voldemort with his eyes, and hissed in a steely tone of voice, _"Souls aren't something to mess with, no matter the reason! A soul must always remain pure, untarnished, and complete! And you have inflicted enough damage on yours. Be grateful that I decided to cast that spell on the horcrux. After transferring the piece of soul, I had half a mind of cancelling the 'cushioning' spell. Alas, I decided to be magnanimous." _

And indeed he had, since now this new horcrux would be worn by Voldemort, complicating matters for him if he ever had to destroy it. But, it was only fair, since he was wearing one of Voldemort's horcruxes around his finger – Slytherin's wedding ring. Not to mention the other horcruxes he already knew about, including their location.

"_Despite all that, which is completely inconsequential,"_ hissed Voldemort angrily, _"I don't see why you can't share the book with me-"_

"_You'll only have access to the book,"_ interrupted Orion sharply, _"over my dead body, Tom. No amount of cajoling or threats will make me change my mind. Now tell me, do you like your new horcrux?"_

"_Yes,"_ hissed Voldemort curtly, looking utterly dissatisfied with Orion's stubbornness. Then, he gazed at the Black heirloom and briefly caressed the pendant, before he gazed up at Orion, hissing quietly, _"Yes, I like it very much. It is indeed, a receptacle worthy to carry one of my pieces of soul."_

"_Good, I'm glad you're satisfied,"_ said Orion, shooting him a smile, before he dropped it and his expression turned grave.

He took a step forward, to stand inches away from the wizard, and pressed his hand over Voldemort's, which was holding the pendant.

He tightly wrapped his fingers around pendant and hand, and squeezed hard, seeing Voldemort briefly grimacing in slight pain, just as he wanted, and he whispered softly, "_Do you feel it, throbbing under your touch? I feel it, the 'tug', as you call it. It's your master piece of soul, and your piece of soul inside me, yearning to merge back with the piece of soul inside this horcrux – Tom's soul, because I saw him when I transferred him into this receptacle. He spoke to me, pleading for me to not trap him in an object – yes, pleading!_" He snapped angrily, when Voldemort was about to say something. And he pierced him with his eyes, glinting with fury. _"Have you ever stopped to consider what your pieces of soul feel when they are imprisoned for decades inside objects? Can you possibly imagine yourself in their place? It's 'dark and cold', that's what Tom told me, and he was horrified by the perspective of being trapped again! Don't you understand?!"_

Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed, and he hissed sharply, _"They are a means to an end. They are only pieces of soul, it doesn't matter what they feel." _He sneered,_ "If indeed, they 'feel' anything-"_

"_THEY ARE YOU!" _spat Orion heatedly. _"They feel, a soul always feels, especially if it's bounded to this plane, you fool! How can you possibly not give a damn about what your souls are suffering while they're locked in your horcruxes?!"_ He pierced him with his eyes, and hissed beseechingly, _"I want you to merge back with your horcruxes, Tom-"_

"_Never,"_ instantly hissed Voldemort, darkly glowering at him. _"They are my immortality-"_

"_I am your immortality!"_ snapped Orion hotly. "_With one horcrux you have enough!" _

"_I can't use the piece of soul inside you to create a new body,"_ hissed Voldemort acerbically.

"_Then keep another horcrux, but merge with the rest!"_

"_No,"_ said Voldemort sharply. _"I need all of them, the more I have, the greater chances I'll have to survive and to repeatedly create a body when mine starts to get old. And you forget that I already merged with the diary's soul when that Tom obtained a body, and with the locket's soul when you asked it of me after I had created the Slytherin wedding ring horcrux. I have their memories with me, and they never suffered-"_

"_Because they had ways to communicate with the outside; the diary could write and the locket could speak because of the portrait,"_ interrupted Orion waspishly. _"With the exception of Nagini, the rest of your horcruxes can't communicate, and those are the pieces of soul which are suffering! Merge back with those!"_

"_Suffering?"_ sneered Voldemort, his crimson eyes flashing with anger, while he tightly gripped Orion's chin. _"Like what I suffered when I was a disembodied, powerless soul for more than a decade – after my Killing Curse rebounded off you? You speak to me about suffering? The pieces of soul inside my object-horcruxes might feel 'cold' but what they go through is nothing in comparison to what I had to deal with!"_

"_Yes, you suffered,"_ gritted out Orion, _"and it was your own fault-"_

"_My fault?!"_ hissed Voldemort enraged, clutching Orion's chin tighter, his fingers sinking into Orion's cheeks. _"It was you who caused my Killing Curse to rebound, destroying my body, making me nothing but a pathetic soul-"_

"_I was a baby – I wasn't aware of anything! And do you think that if I had been, I wouldn't have gladly killed you when you murdered my mother?!"_ spat Orion incensed. _"It was YOUR fault. We have gone through this already. It was your fault when you attacked me because of the bloody prophecy –which you didn't fully hear, and that was quite stupid of you, I might add- and it was your fault when you became a disembodied piece of soul, and it was ultimately your fault to create so many horcruxes-"_

"_Without my horcruxes,"_ hissed Voldemort furiously, _"I would have died the night I attacked you! There's no fault in ensuring my own survival."_

"_Merlin, you understand nothing!"_ cried Orion with angered exasperation, wrenching himself away from the wizard's grasp. He leveled him with a steely gaze, and said fiercely, "_You have been manipulated your whole life, Tom. Not everything is your fault, but ultimately, having done all what you did, without stopping to consider the consequences and without regretting your catastrophic choices, you have no one to blame but yourself. You should have been strong enough to fight it!"_

Voldemort's eyes narrowed at him, and he demanded sharply, _"Manipulated? What are you talking about-"_

"_Yes, manipulated," _hissed Orion, trying to explain matters without revealing anything important. His eyes sparkled when his racing mind came up with a believable, appropriate twist, which would serve several purposes. _"You were manipulated by Horace Slughorn, Tom. Remember the gaps in the wizard's memories? The gaps you disregarded but which I believed to indicate something untoward?"_

Voldemort stiffly nodded, frowning while he pierced him with his eyes, and Orion continued quietly, _"In my lessons with Dumbledore, during which you already know that he spends all the time showing me memories and telling me about you and your horcruxes, I was able to piece together little bits of information, things he surely doesn't believe to be important. It was because of that, that I believe that Slughorn cast a compulsion web on you; making you obsess over immortality, making you to research the way to create several horcruxes. And it was Slughorn who told you about horcruxes in the end. You butchered your soul, because of what he did to you!"_

"_A compulsion web?"_ hissed Voldemort enraged, his crimson eyes marginally widening, flashing with insane fury. _"Are you certain? And Dumbledore knew about this, it was his plan-"_

"_I'm certain about the compulsion web," _said Orion sharply, _"but I don't think that Dumbledore had anything to do with it. As I told you, I pieced it all together from bits of information that the old coot believed to be irrelevant."_ He intently bore his eyes into his, and smoothly lied, _"Dumbledore told me many things about Slughorn, because he wants me to get the memory from him, remember? Well, he told me that Slughorn was a Master in Legilimency and Occlumency, and that the wizard seemed to be fixed on you when you were in school. Dumbledore suspected him for a while, perhaps about Slughorn helping you discover about horcruxes… I don't really know. But my point is that Dumbledore told me that Slughorn was very skilled in all kinds of mind magic, and that the wizard always kept an eye on you, paying you too much attention. Furthermore, he showed me a very peculiar memory he had extracted from Slughorn decades ago. You were reading in the library, and Slughorn was lurking behind a shelf, and the wizard casted a spell on you. It hit your head, but you didn't sense it. The memory was very blurry, and it wasn't in the memories you extracted from Slughorn, thus I know that it was one of the memories he had wiped from his mind. Regardless, Dumbledore was very confused and troubled about this memory. He asked me to get it from 'Slughorn' as well, but now it's impossible, since you killed the wizard, and Rodolphus only has the memories of Slughorn that you gave him."_

"_And given the memory Dumbledore showed you,"_ hissed Voldemort, his eyes narrowed in fury, his expression troubled and deeply pensive, _"you think that Slughorn casted a compulsion web on me?"_

"_Yes," _said Orion vehemently. _"What else could it have been? He casted a spell which sunk into your head, without you noticing it. It was surely a compulsion web! Moreover, Slughorn told you about horcruxes. He played his part well, acting reluctant and then horrified, but everything fits! He wiped memories from his mind of the period during which you attended Hogwarts, and then he gave to Dumbledore that messily modified memory, giving evidence that he told you about horcruxes. Don't you see? Slughorn cast a compulsion web, making you obsess over immortality, ultimately making you create several horcruxes. Then he regretted it, wiped his mind, but gave one significant memory to Dumbledore, giving the old coot the last evidence needed in order to know how many horcruxes you made, to destroy them. Slughorn regretted the whole affair and finally just wanted your horcruxes to be destroyed!"_

"_Why would Slughorn cast a compulsion on me? What did he gain by that-"_

"_I don't know!" _snapped Orion with exasperation. _"What reason did the wizard have to tell you about horcruxes in the first place? If he hadn't wanted to give you that information, he would have denied knowing what a horcrux was!"_

Voldemort deeply frowned, and he swiftly sat down on the bed. His expression blank while he gazed with unseeing eyes at the empty space before him.

Mutely, Orion sat beside him, patiently waiting for the wizard to arrange his thought and come to some decision; hopefully, to merge back with some horcruxes.

After a long stretch of silence, Voldemort muttered,_ "You believe that Dumbledore didn't know what Slughorn did? The old man didn't give you any indication that he had ordered Slughorn to cast a compulsion on me?"_

"_No, I sincerely don't think that Dumbledore had anything to do with it,"_ said Orion quietly, since he didn't want Voldemort to have one more reason to kill Dumbledore; the old coot was his. _"Honestly, Tom, Dumbledore would never do a thing like that. And if he had known about your horcruxes all this time, he would have haunted them down a long time ago."_

"_True," _hissed Voldemort. _"Yet, I don't see what reason Slughorn could have had to cast a compulsion on me."_

"_Morbid curiosity, perhaps,"_ offered Orion. _"Or for his own benefit. Perhaps he didn't want to take the trouble to research a way to make several horcruxes, perhaps he wasn't intelligent or smart enough to do it, and therefore, he made you do it for him. He knew you'd be able to do it, if properly motivated; meaning that he casted a compulsion on you to make obsess about it. Therefore, he could lay back while you did all the work. And in the same way that he casted a compulsion on you, he could have extracted the information from you once you finished your research and experimentations. Thus, Slughorn would have learned how to create several horcruxes-"_

"_With the intention of making horcruxes for himself?" _hissed Voldemort, gazing at him with a deep frown on his face.

Orion shrugged his shoulders. _"It could be. We'll never know. But it's possible. He was a dark wizard after all. Many have searched for a way to make themselves immortal; searched and failed. And it would be just like a Slytherin to make another do all the work, and then reap the benefits."_

"_Yes, perhaps that's the reason,"_ hissed Voldemort quietly, gazing away from him. Suddenly, his knuckles turned white as he tightly clutched his wand, and Orion felt a flare of pain piercing his scar, while the wizard hissed with fury, _"If I hadn't killed Slughorn already, I would take great pleasure in slowly torturing him."_

Orion jerkily nodded, rubbing his forehead, before he groaned quietly, _"Tom, please, calm down - It hurts."_

"_Um?"_ hissed Voldemort distractedly, side-glancing at him. _"Ah, yes."_

The pain eased away from his forehead, and Orion settled himself on the bed, with his legs folded, while he gazed at Voldemort's profile.

"_It changes nothing,"_ hissed Voldemort impassively, turning to face him. _"Even if all what I did was because of a compulsion web, it doesn't change the fact that I created several horcruxes. It doesn't change anything. I don't regret having attained immortality in this way-"_

"_But – but you were being manipulated!"_ spluttered Orion. _"You must see that you can't allow the consequences of that manipulation to pervade. The only way you can undo the manipulation and take revenge on Slughorn is by merging back with your horcruxes!"_

Voldemort thinly smiled at him, though there was no feeling in it; rather, it looked to Orion as something wan and dejected.

"_None of it changes who I am, my little serpent. Perhaps, someday, if I find a better __way to attain immortality, I'll merge back with some of my horcruxes. For now, they are the best means I have. And I won't risk it."_

"_Tom-__"_

"_No, my decision is made," _hissed Voldemort quietly. _"And I don't wish to speak about it anymore."_

"_Alright," _muttered Orion, glancing away from him, troubled, despondent, and disappointed.

Someday, he would tell Voldemort the absolute truth about the matter; hopefully being able to tell him that he had already killed the spirits in retribution, for what they done to Tom Riddle and Lily Evans, to name a few. Nonetheless, he didn't regret telling Voldemort as much as he could, however cloaked with half-lies. With every passing day, he increasingly felt the wish to be able to completely disclose everything to Voldemort. At present, he couldn't, it was still dangerous and risky, but he would do his best to let him know little bits, cunningly twisting the truth for his own convenience. It was the best he could offer to the wizard.

"_Come, let's rest for while,"_ hissed Voldemort laying back on the bed, and comfortably stretching out. _"It has been a long day for me. And for you as well, I think."_

"_Yeah, it has," _murmured Orion, settling himself by the wizard's side, feeling Voldemort wrap an arm around him, pulling him closer.

He had started playing with the Black pendant on Voldemort's broad chest, when the wizard hissed, _"You haven't told me how you managed to transfer my piece of soul into this."_

"_I used Necromancy," _replied Orion impassively, gazing up at him while his fingers still played with the pendant. _"I'm learning much with Vagnarov, and I used one of the spells we learned in class."_

Voldemort stared down at him, his eyes narrowing. _"Isn't Necromancy affecting you?"_

"_No,"_ said Orion with an amused chuckle. _"The spells I'm learning aren't powerful enough to affect me in any way-"_

"_Yet__, you said that when I summoned you-"_ Voldemort's jaw clenched, and he continued acerbically, _"That when you were with this person you don't want to tell me about, that you had been practicing some Necromantic spell which took a hold of you, allowing you to see souls… Was that also a lie?"_

"_No, that was the truth,"_ replied Orion, eyeing him carefully. _"It did take a hold of me for a while, but I'm quickly learning to master it. There's no danger in it since the only thing it does is allow me to see souls inside living wizards. What happened was that I was imbued with my Necromantic abilities, and with the spell, I saw this person's soul, and it was beautiful, and enticing-"_

"_Unlike my own?__"_ interjected Voldemort sharply, gazing down at him with narrowed eyes. _"Is that what you're trying to tell me?"_

"_I wasn't going to refer to your soul, Tom,"_ said Orion calmly. _"You did. But you're right; I very much doubt that your butchered soul would appeal to me if I was infused by my Necromantic powers. Necromancers like pure, undamaged souls."_

"_I see," _hissed Voldemort, his jaw clenching before he looked away. _"What about the Gaunt ring, are you going to keep it?"_

"_I am. It's no longer a horcrux, Tom," _replied Orion dismissively._ "It's useless to you." _

"_But it's useful to you, it seems,"_ hissed Voldemort, staring down at him with narrowed eyes. _"Why do you want it?"_

"_Er , I'm curious about it-"_

"_About what?"_ pressed on Voldemort, his voice becoming more demanding. _"It might not be a horcrux any longer, but it's still my family's heirloom. It's mine to give away, and I'll demand it back if you don't tell me why you want it. I've allowed you to keep your secrets for far too long."_

"_You keep secrets as well,"_ snapped Orion pointedly, leveling him with fuming glare.

Voldemort widely smirked at him, stretching out his arms to embark the whole bed. _"Ask whatever you like, and I'll reply in all honesty."_

"_Yeah, sure," _snorted Orion skeptically. _"You're a Dark Lord, and Dark Lords always slyly spin the truth to make it whatever they want it to be."_

"_Very true, my little serpent," _hissed Voldemort, his lips quirking upwards. _"But in this instance, I'll make a huge, one-time effort and I'll answer sincerely."_

"_Thanks for the offer," _said Orion, grinning up at him. _"But I prefer that each of us keep our respective secrets until we're ready to disclose them to each other. It's fair deal, I believe."_

"_Hmm, it is, but it's also rather disappointing," _hissed Voldemort quietly, intently gazing down at him. _"I'm starting to suspect that your secrets are much juicier than mine." _He slowly caressed Orion's cheek, and added silkily,_ "Like how you managed to become so powerful… How you learned to control what you call your raw dark magic… I'm very interested in that."_

"_I bet you are,"_ interjected Orion, smirking at him. _"Because you want to find a way to counter my raw dark magic, Tom, you sly bastard. I can only tell you that I managed all that because I practiced till exhaustion. Every accomplishment is earned that way, wouldn't you say?"_

"_Yes, but there's much __that you aren't telling me,"_ hissed Voldemort coolly, intently scrutinizing him, his thumb now caressing Orion's lower lip. _"And I find it both infuriating and appealing. When I think I know all there is to you, I find that there's even more I have to dig into… And you still manage to surprise me. I hadn't expected that."_

"_I still surprise you, how?"_ said Orion, shooting him a broad, smug grin.

"_Well, I already mentioned the control over your dark magic," _hissed Voldemort quietly, before he widely smirked at him, his crimson eyes darkening and glinting. _"But I think that what surprised me even more was your acceptance of our new 'deal' for our sex-life. Indeed, it was delightfully, twistedly dark of you, and I mean that as a compliment, of course. I'm very glad that you agreed, but it surprised me, nonetheless."_

"_Yes, I find myself surprising me whenever you're involved," _said Orion, smirking at him. _"As for my new-found dark and twisted nature, it's your influence, no doubt."_

"_Indeed, there's no doubt about that,"_ hissed Voldemort, looking proudly satisfied with himself.

After a relaxed, brief interlude of silence, Orion's couldn't hold in his impatience any longer, and he blurted out, "I want to shag."

Voldemort let out a rumbling bout of rich laughter, and finally gazed down at him, widely smirking, as he silkily hissed, _"Well, I wondered how long it would take you."_ He clicked his tongue mockingly. _"You truly have no self-restraint at all, my little serpent." _

"_Stop mocking me,"_ snapped Orion shortly, _"and fuck me already!"_

"_How can I refuse your skillful, seductive charms?"_ drawled Voldemort sarcastically, his lips quirking upwards, before he swiftly pinned him on the bed, pressing their bodies together, rubbing their naked arousals against each other; teasingly halting when Orion started to groan, and then continuing when Orion shot him a lethal gaze promising lots of pain.

"_How do you want it, whelp?"_ hissed Voldemort against Orion's ear, biting and licking the ear's shell. _"Slow and gentle or hard and rough?"_

The wizard's warm breath caressed Orion's neck, and he shivered in pleasure when hearing the hissed words. He tightly wrapped his arms around Voldemort's neck, and lustfully smiled at him.

"_I want it rough,"_ he hissed quietly, boring his eyes into the crimson ones. "_It has been a long while-"_

"_Ah, yess,"_ hissed Voldemort, smirking at him while he roughly caressed Orion's lower lip with a thumb, _"I've been absent-minded lately during our couplings, haven't I? But so have you, my little serpent… Nevertheless, I'll rectify that today…"_ He tightly gripped Orion's chin, and hissed silkily, his smirk turning viciously triumphant, _"And you like it when I dominate you, don't you?"_

"_In bed, yes,"_ said Orion pointedly, narrowing his eyes at him. _"Out of it, no; not when you behave like an overbearing Dark Lord, trying to control every aspect of my life. I'm your spouse, not a pet, and I won't have you dictating-"_

"_Yesss, of course,"_ hissed Voldemort, widely smirking at him. _"I understand that you want to have complete control over your life; and I accept it, as long as you inform me about your decisions. The matter about lovers is settled now, but I expect you to tell me about your actions beforehand." _His grip on Orion's chin tightened, and he demanded sharply,_ "You will, won't you?"_

"_Yes," _said Orion impassively,_ "and so will you, right?"_

"_Certainly," _hissed Voldemort, smirking at him.

Orion nodded, not believing him, of course, since the wizard still hadn't told him about Draco's task and the break into Hogwarts. But he didn't care, he wasn't telling Voldemort about many things, either.

He certainly wasn't telling him that tomorrow he was going to the Guild to confront the Dementor and attempt to resurrect his father. He had promised Voldemort to tell him about his plans to defeat the Dementor, but he knew that Voldemort would do whatever was in his power to stop him. He was going to stand up to Voldemort now that he had the power to do it, but he was certainly not going to give the wizard reasons to prevent him from doing what he wanted. Keeping things to himself was much more cunningly efficient than fighting with Voldemort over everything he wanted to do.

Furthermore, he would inform Voldemort about certain matters when the time was right, just as he had told him about Slughorn. He had been considering telling the wizard a half-truth about the Gaunt ring; telling him that it was a Necromancer's tool that he wanted to explore and that was useless to Voldemort since the wizard had no Necromantic abilities. But he had refrained himself from doing it, since with that information the wizard would surely realize that the Hallows were real.

At present, Voldemort knew about the Elder Wand, but Orion suspected that the wizard hadn't realized what it truly was – a Hallow. The Tale of the Three Brothers, since it was a children's story, wasn't something a wizard like Voldemort would believe in or explore further. Therefore, even if Voldemort linked the Elder Wand to the mythical undefeatable wand of the Tale, he wouldn't necessary believe in the existence of the other two Hallows. Not to mention that the wizard didn't know that the brothers of the Tale were the Peverell brothers, or that 'Death' had been Morgana's and Mordred's spirits.

Furthermore, the Resurrection Stone in the Gaunt ring had the mark of the Hallows in its black depths, but that mark was widely thought to be nothing more than Grindelwald's mark, not the Peverell crest. He had only linked the mark to the Peverells because he had seen the same symbol in Ignotus' tombstone in Godric Hollow's cemetery, but he doubted that Voldemort had ever seen it.

Nevertheless, if Voldemort ever got his hands on the Elder Wand, the wizard would discover the truth. Grindelwald had told him that all the Hallows had the mark: the Resurrection Stone inside its depths, as he already knew; the Elder Wand with the tiny symbol engraved on its handle; and the Invisibility Cloak with the crest sown on its invisible hem – Orion had actually found it by touch, after learning about it.

Therefore, it wouldn't be wise to tell Voldemort any half-truth about why he wanted to keep the Gaunt ring. The less the wizard suspected about the existence of the Hallows, the better. It was troublesome enough for Voldemort to be seeking the Elder Wand. If the wizard got it and saw the Peverell crest on its handle, he would soon realize that the symbol represented the magical objects of the Tale of the Three Brothers, and the wizard would discover too much about the Hallows. And he certainly didn't need Voldemort fighting with him over them.

"_You said rough, correct?_" silkily hissed Voldemort, viciously smirking at him while he grounded their hips together. "_I can certainly oblige… Indeed, I'll take pleasure in punishing you for your misbehavior… Repeatedly, my little serpent…"_

Orion was jostled out of his musings, and he narrowed his eyes at the wizard on top of him. _"I didn't misbehave, I just kissed someone, and that isn't-"_

"_Hush, I don't wish to hear your paltry excuses again," _hissed Voldemort sharply._ "The matter has been agreed on. We'll discuss it no further." _He gripped Orion's chin, narrowing his crimson eyes at him._ "Because if you cheat on me behind my back and break our deal, I'll find out, Orion. Even if you can remove the Black ring from your finger, I'll find out and I'll make you regret it."_

"_Fine," _grunted Orion,_ "so will you if I find out you fuck someone behind my back." _

"_Fair enough_," said Voldemort dismissively. He pierced him with his eyes, flicked his hand -though Orion didn't feel anything being casted at him- and he spread Orion's legs wide open. His darkened crimson eyes flashed, and he hissed, _"Brace yourself."_

And before Orion could gather his wits, Voldemort slammed his hard erection to the tilt with a brutal thrust. Orion screamed when he felt a ripping pain, since he had been utterly unprepared and the wizard hadn't casted the usual lubricating charm at him, though he could feel that the large erection throbbing inside him was slick. Voldemort didn't stop, he kept ramming inside him, with a nastily satisfied smirk on his face, the crimson eyes intently observing his face scrunched up in pain. His initial scream and subsequent pained grunts seemed to egg on Voldemort, and the wizard kept slamming in and out in a brutal pace, hissing in pleasure.

But soon enough, pain turned into intense, overpowering elation when the pleasure spot inside him was repeatedly struck, and Orion let out a throaty moan, tightly wrapping his legs around Voldemort's waist, meeting each aggressive thrust by arching up his hips.

Voldemort's long fingers reached to fondle his nipples, while the wizard kept pounding into him, harshly hissing into his neck, biting, sharply kissing and licking. They were hot up against each other, wild and savagely passionate, and Orion gripped him tighter and sank his teeth into the wizard's neck. He groaned in pleasure, with his eyes closed, when he tasted the coppery tang of Voldemort's blood; it was exquisite, as always, and he could taste the thrum of dark magic in the blood, enticing and addictive.

He heard Voldemort's groans as the wizard plunged deeper into him, roughly groping his buttock's cheeks, fingernails sinking into his tender flesh, and Orion bucked wildly against him, grounding his arousal against the wizard's hard stomach. He couldn't restrain further the dark magic animatedly swirling and surging in him, and he let it out from him, at the same time that he felt the fluttering of the rising piece of soul inside him, yearning to make a connection with Voldemort and the pendant that the wizard was wearing.

Instantly, Orion felt a mantle of darkness sweeping all around them, scintillating, while he felt Voldemort's aura of vibrating dark magic caressing and tingling on his skin, and he shivered in pleasure.

"_Exquisite… so powerful,"_ hissed Voldemort huskily in between haggard pants, gazing down at him with crimson eyes glazed over with consuming lust and desire. _"I wonder how… yet, with no magical aura…"_

"_I'm not powerful enough for that, I guess," _said Orion dizzily, the smooth lie easily rolling from his lips, since he obviously didn't want to tell him about the potion he was taking daily, or to let him know the extent of his powers, not yet.

He closed his eyes, throwing his head back and tautly arching his body, with a husky low moan ripped from his throat, when he felt Voldemort roughly plunging into him once again.

"_Merlin… I've missed this… so much…"_ he hissed feverishly, while his body was assaulted by waves of burning pleasure and his mind was dazed by the sensation of the fluttering piece of soul inside him and by the dark magic around them; Voldemort's meshing with his, surrounding them in a cocooning, pulsing mantle of blackness.

"_Open your eyes… I always want to see them while I take you,"_ hissed Voldemort commandingly, gripping Orion's chin while he kept thrusting hard into him. _"Look at me."_

Dazedly, Orion slowly opened his eyes, meeting Voldemort's darkened crimson gaze, and the wizard pulled up Orion's legs. Voldemort perched them over his elbows, and he started pulling out completely and slamming back in, repeatedly, brutally and frenziedly, while he hissed in between groans and grunts of intense pleasure, "_This is why – you'll always come back to me… Only I can give you this, my little serpent… Only with me, you'll feel all this… This is why we belong together – why you are mine… It doesn't matter if we share someone in bed – they'll never have this… You'll always crave me as I crave you… No one will ever make us feel all this… Do you feel it, my little serpent?"_

"_Yesss," _choked out Orion in a voice strangled by pleasure, while he ground his hips upwards to meet the wizard's thrusts, tightening his arms around him, his mind reduced to a quivering mush of blazing sensations.

Voldemort meshed his mouth with his, keeping his wild pace, and he kissed Orion with vicious and tantalizing passion, his tongue deeply plundering Orion's mouth. And for Orion, the heated, consuming pleasure was getting too much to bear. He gripped the wizard on top of him desperately, kissing Voldemort's neck, his fingers clawing the wizard's back, while moans were ripped from his throat.

Abruptly, he found himself being roughly flipped over on his stomach, Voldemort instantly pinning him down, and firm lips descended upon his nape, biting and kissing. Immediately, Voldemort forcefully grabbed his hips, and savagely entered him from behind, slamming Orion's hips upward with every thrust, increasing the pleasure ten-fold, the pace speeding, becoming more brutal, demanding and frenzied.

And Orion allowed himself to be lost in the sensations; the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and of their groans, hisses, and moans of pleasure meshing together, along with his sharp cry when he felt the rolling waves of pleasure soaring and bursting inside his body, overloading his senses as he screamed his climax.

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He was utterly spent, ravished, satiated, and he could barely move a muscle. He had been repeatedly fucked senseless by Voldemort, always brutally and savagely, but that had been exactly what he had wanted and asked for. He definitely hadn't complained.

Now, he was languidly soaking inside the huge bathtub of Voldemort's bathroom, with his back pressed against the wizard's broad chest. His drenched locks of hair were being carded by Voldemort's long fingers, while he sighed in contentment, with closed eyes and his head resting on the wizard's shoulder.

The fingers caressing his hair closed in a fist, and his head was slowly pulled further back, and Orion opened his eyes to gaze through his eyelashes at the smoldering, crimson eyes staring at him.

A smirk was playing on Voldemort's lips, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Quietly, he turned inside Voldemort's embracing arms to face him, disturbing the warm water rippling and lapping all around them. He settled himself on the wizard's lap and wrapped his arms around Voldemort's neck, while he pushed his tongue into the wizard's mouth, biting the lower lip and pulling on the plump flesh.

He felt Voldemort's tongue meeting to his own, sliding against it, hot and wet, while the wizard placidly groaned into their locked mouths. But his eyes were still open, holding Voldemort's crimson gaze. The wizard's handsome features were relaxed, his expression tranquilly and openly content, while he tightened his arms around Orion.

And finally, Orion made up his mind. Calypso and Kara had been right, he shouldn't fear saying it to him, for he knew it was true; he felt it intensely, deep inside, and it wasn't something that would ever change, no matter what happened in the future. And he wanted to hear it back, for surely the wizard had to feel the same way. It was high-time that he said it; perhaps, it would ease matters for them. Perhaps, if Voldemort knew, the terrible visions wouldn't come true.

He gazed at Voldemort's face and tenderly caressed the wizard's cheek, then smoothly slid his fingers along the strong jaw, his eyes following the journey of his touch, and he finally ended by caressing the commissure of the wizard's lips, which had curved upwards into a placid smile.

He sunk his eyes into Voldemort's crimson gaze and smiled back at him, before he pressed his lips to the wizard's.

"I love you," he whispered against Voldemort's mouth, so softly that he could barely hear himself, as if he was speaking directly to Voldemort's soul without the need for words.

Abruptly, Voldemort stiffened, his face became unreadable, his expression a blank mask, and Orion found himself being unceremoniously pushed away, as Voldemort stood up and left the bathtub.

Startled, Orion floundered in the deep bathtub, splashing water all around the bathroom, before he gripped the smooth stone edges of the tub, glancing up at the towering wizard in front of him.

Voldemort had draped a bathrobe around his nude body, and he wore a cold expression on his face while he narrowed his crimson eyes at Orion.

"_That's the afterglow of sex speaking," _hissed Voldemort sharply. _"That's lust and desire. Don't allow yourself to be confused."_

"_I'm not confused!"_ said Orion vehemently passionate. _"I was being sincere and I want you to say it to me-"_

"_That I love you?"_ sneered Voldemort with disgust and outrage. _"Love is for pathetic muggles, boy! Not for powerful wizards like us."_ His expression turned thunderous, his crimson eyes glinting with fury, and he spat, _"Love is a weakness! Something which doesn't ail either of us, for sure. What you feel is lust, nothing more! And I certainly don't love you or anyone else!"_

A stricken expression flashed across Orion's face, the wizard's words and reaction stabbing him with a searing spasm of deep-rooted hurt; feeling an intense kind of pain he had never felt before in his life. He felt as if something inside him was trying to smother him, tightly coiling around his chest and throat, sinking him in a miasma of anguished sorrow and wrecking pain. For a fleeting instance, he wanted to let out a piercing scream, to plunge his fist into the cold face before him, to curse the wizard black and blue, to yell until he was hoarse. But instantly, he masked his face, making sure no sign of his chaotic, pained feelings was apparent, and he jumped out of the bathtub.

Mutely, Orion turned his back on the wizard while he snatched a bathrobe, quickly putting it on. He felt his shoulders rigid, his back stiff, and his whole body suddenly cold. There was an empty void inside him, making him feel as if he was an automaton playing the part of a human.

Suddenly, Voldemort grabbed Orion's shoulders, spinning him around.

He tightly clutched Orion's chin, roughly lifting it up, and hissed in a deadly tone of voice, _"You told me yourself that our marriage was one of convenience, a political union between two powerful bloodlines, between the most powerful dark wizards – you and I- in order to unite and lead the Dark. Remember?"_

Orion stiffly nodded, and Voldemort continued sharply, piercing him with cold crimson eyes, _"I care for you, you're the only person I like to spend time with, you'll bear our heir, and you're my spouse, but that's it. From the start, I told you how things would work between us. I don't love and I don't do romance. I warned you about this since the beginning. You accepted it and agreed."_ His grip on Orion's chin tightened, and he hissed quietly, _"What you feel is lust, nothing more, my little serpent. You are young and inexperienced, thus, it's understandable that you made this mistake. Now, you know, so don't allow yourself to be confused again. Understood?"_

"_Yes,"_ gritted out Orion. He straightened his shoulders, leveled him with a cold gaze, and added tonelessly, _"You're right, of course. It was the afterglow. I didn't mean it."_

"_Good,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply. _"I'll pretend I never heard it."_ He released Orion and took a step back, adding quietly, _"You can stay and rest in my bedroom if you want. I have things to do. I'll come by later."_

He flipped a hand and something small came shooting from the bedroom. Voldemort grabbed it, and thrusted into Orion's hands.

"_Don't lose this," _he hissed curtly, piercing him with narrowed crimson eyes._ "Even if you cancelled its non-removability spell and even if you don't like the monitoring spell it has, I want you to wear it, since it's the only way I have to summon you and the only way you have to come to me."_

And without another word, the wizard swiftly turned around and stalked out from the bathroom, leaving Orion rooted in his place, his posture rigid while he clutched the Black Heir ring in a tight fist, his knuckles turning white.

He heard the door of the bedroom being slammed shut, and his shoulders dropped and his mask-like face crumbled. He swallowed hard against the tight, painful clench in his throat, and he started to repeatedly take in deep, choked breaths. But when he felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes, it was the last straw for him and he forced himself to snap into coolness, furiously rubbing his eyes, angry at himself.

He had been pathetic and foolish; he should have never listened to girls' advice. What did girls know about these things, anyway? Nothing at all; girls were stupidly romantic most of times. They certainly didn't know how the dynamics of his relationship with Voldemort worked.

What had possessed him to say such thing? What had he expected? Of course that Voldemort didn't love! It was laughable. The wizard would never understand or comprehend, much less allow himself to feel a weakness, as he called it.

Orion's jaw tightly clenched. No, Voldemort didn't love him or anyone else, and that was fine by him. He inwardly sneered. He didn't need Voldemort's love! His mind lurched forward with fierce determination... If he wanted warm and fuzzy feelings he would have Lezander; if he wanted friendship, companionship, and something deeper in the future, he had Draco; and if he wanted consuming, passionate sex he had Voldemort. The three of them were completely his! Never mind that he really loved Voldemort, he would never again admit it. And he wouldn't fight against his own desires either; he wanted Draco, he would have him, and he wanted Lezander as well. He was bonded to both wizards in different, irreversible ways, therefore, he had the right to claim them as his own.

Moreover, if he wanted to experience wild sex then he had his new insane agreement with Voldemort; threesomes in the future - right! That was fine by him, as well. No, it was more than that; it was perfect! He could choose whomever he wanted and he could reject those chosen by Voldemort; he would decide when and with whom. He would fuck and be fucked by whomever he wanted, and as many times as he liked. It would be indeed many times, and he would take great pleasure in it. Let it not be said that the current Head of the Noble House of Black wasn't the cold, devious, unfeeling bastard that everyone wanted him to be. He would be cold with Voldmemort, and he would give his affections to those who corresponded them, if he got something out of it. If that was how Voldemort wanted things, then he would give as much as he received, and he would enjoy himself in the process.

Angrily, Orion ripped the bathrobe from his body and summarily accioed his Death and Life wand while he stalked into the bedroom. Quickly, he casted drying spells on his body and hair, and flicked his wand to spread his discarded clothes on the four-poster bed.

His robes were torn and bloodied from his duel with Voldemort, so he had to spend some time casting cleaning and mending spells. Finally, when they were presentable enough, he quickly clothed himself.

Orion dug his hand into a pocket, plucking out the necklace he never wore in Voldemort's presence; the portkey Remus had given him, a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a large dog, a stag and a transformed werewolf, all bunched together. He unclasped the necklace and threaded the chain through the Black Heir ring, so that it hung with the pendant.

Swiftly, he clasped the necklace around his neck and tucked it under his shirt. He would feel the burning of his Black Heir ring when Voldemort summoned him, but if he didn't wear it around his finger, he was certain that the monitoring spell on the ring wouldn't be activated if he had intimate contact with someone. And he could easily lift the chain so that the Black Heir ring didn't touch him, and thus, so that it didn't portkey him away if Voldemort activated it from his end.

He stalked towards a corner of the bedroom and stood in front of a large, full-bodied gilded mirror, closely inspecting his appearance and liking what he saw. His face was a mask of stoic coldness, and he exuded superb impassiveness and fierce self-confidence.

Smirking, he turned around and snatched a black cloak from Voldemort's closet, clasping it around his shoulders and pulling the hood over his head, so that his face wouldn't be seen. He still had a few more things to discuss with Voldemort and he didn't want any roaming Death Eaters to see him. He wasn't in the mood for it; he could very well kill one of them if irked.

Straightening his shoulders, he forcefully opened the door and left the bedroom, intent on demanding some things from his 'dear, loving spouse'. And by Merlin that someday Voldemort would rue his words.


	10. The halfblood Black & Lycaon

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN:**

Thanks to all of those who reviewed! As always, I greatly appreciate it. This is a long chappie, but bear with me because everything that happens needed to be written –winks-. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and review - I would love to read your opinions!

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**Chapter 10**

Short-tempered, Orion cursed under his breath. He had been stalking the dimly lit corridors of Riddle Manor looking for Voldemort, not finding him either in the wizard's private library or in his study. Furthermore, he had crossed paths with several masked Death Eaters and a muttering Bellatrix, who - to his never-ending delight - had been twitching as if recently subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. That had momentarily uplifted his spirits.

Now, he was making his way to the summoning chamber, since it was the last place he needed to check, and Bellatrix had come from that direction. So surely Voldemort was there, occupied with some Death Eaters.

He turned around a corner and finally approached the door of the summoning chamber, wondering if he should wait or simply barge into whatever meeting Voldemort was holding.

Orion was about to grasp the door handle, when, abruptly, the door was jerked open from inside, and he immediately jumped into a shadowed corner.

When he saw who came out and closed the door, he took a step forward and gasped out in surprise, "Draco, what are you doing here?"

The young wizard instantly swirled around with his wand aimed forward, and demanded in a low whisper, while his tired silvery eyes squinted to discern the face covered by the hood, "Orion, is that you?"

"Yes," whispered Orion, lowering his hood and approaching Draco, swiftly casting silencing and anti-spying spells around them.

He halted in front of the young wizard and closely inspected him; the boy looked like death warmed over, and his hands were jerkily twitching.

"He crucioed you," said Orion flatly.

"Yes," said Draco stiffly, straightening up while he smoothed his disheveled robes with a hand. "But he gave me permission to take some potions from his storeroom, that's where I was going."

"Why did he summon you?" asked Orion, worried for his friend.

"He wanted an update about my progress with the task," replied Draco coolly. He sighed heavily, and shot him a wan smirk. "I don't think he suspects anything. He didn't Legilimize me. I think you were right; he doesn't want to risk damaging my mind since I still have to accomplish my task."

"Well, that doesn't mean that he doesn't suspect," pointed out Orion.

"Yes, you're right," said Draco tiredly, "he did seem peculiarly angry and bothered about something tonight. I'm not the only one who got crucioed without any apparent reason for it. Some poor saps in there are still getting it."

Orion sighed and carded his fingers through his hair. "We shouldn't be seen together, so go to take your potions to recover, and I'll see you back at Hogwarts-"

Abruptly, the door was jerked open once again and Orion jumped away from Draco, both of them putting as much distance between them as they could, given the narrow corridor.

A cloaked wizard stumbled out from the summoning chamber, closing the door behind him, and inadvertently crashing into Orion. The wizard reeled backwards, got his feet entangled with his long cloak, and stumbled onto the floor before Orion had time to grab him.

The hood fell from the wizard's head, revealing a pale, gaunt face, and Orion gazed down at him, surprised. "Barty Crouch Jr."

"Black," croaked out Barty, still sprawled on the floor, his wide eyes flickering from Orion to Draco, nervous and startled. "Malfoy."

Orion frowned at the wizard who was now shakily trying to stand up, and he shot out a hand to grab Barty's arm to help him up.

"Don't touch me," snapped Barty, instantly jerking his left arm away from Orion, straightening up with difficulty. He eyed Orion nervously, and muttered apologetically, "Sorry, Black. I meant that I don't need your help, thanks."

Orion's frown deepened further. This was the second time he had seen Barty acting strangely jittery and spineless around him; something wasn't right. He shot Draco a meaningful glance while he surreptitiously drew out his wand, and he saw Draco arching an eyebrow, following his lead by covertly aiming his wand at Barty, approaching the wizard at the same time that Orion did.

"I have to leave now," said Barty, his eyes darting from one to the other, slightly alarmed. "See ya 'round."

The wizard made a move to rush past them, but Orion instantly grabbed his forearm, keeping him in place.

"What's the rush, Barty?" said Orion pleasantly, smiling at him. "We are friends, aren't we? Stay to have a little chat with us."

"Friends? Yes, of course," said Barty, his eyes flickering from Orion to Draco. "Er – what do you want to talk about?" His gaze focused on Orion, and he tried to pull back his forearm from Orion's grasp, while he muttered with a hint of annoyance, "Can you release me, Black?"

Orion frowned at him, tightening his grasp on the wizard's forearm. "Yes, I could, but you would never ask me something like that. You would have attempted to curse me by now. What's wrong with you-"

He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes widened in realization, and his fingers sunk into the wizard's forearm, making Barty grimace. Immediately, he gazed down at the left forearm he had tightly clutched in his grasp.

Orion didn't think about it twice, he went along with his suspicion, and swiftly aimed his wand at the wizard, who had suddenly whipped out his own wand, and he whispered sharply, "Stupefy!"

Barty went down with a loud 'thud', impacting on the hard stone floors.

"What the hell?" said Draco, glancing from Barty's unconscious form to Orion. "Why did you do that?"

"His left forearm," bit out Orion, crouching besides the knocked out wizard, swiftly pulling up Barty's left sleeve; observing the moving tattoo of the black skull with the coiling snake slithering from the skull's mouth.

Draco kneeled by his side, staring at the Dark Mark on Barty's pale forearm. "What about it?"

"Touch it," whispered Orion, tracing the mark with his fingers.

Draco frowned, and his long fingers moved along the branded skin. Abruptly, his eyes widened and snapped to Orion's, and he said in a startled voice, "I don't feel any dark magic."

"Exactly," said Orion with a sharp nod. "I didn't feel it through his sleeve either, when I was grasping his forearm. And I can always feel the dark magic of your Dark Mark, even if it's clothed. This isn't a Dark Mark-"

"It's just a wizarding tattoo," whispered Draco. "He isn't a Death Eater." He stared at Orion, his jaw clenched. "A spy then, impersonating Barty."

"Yes, he must be," murmured Orion quietly.

"Then let's take him to the Dark Lord," whispered Draco excitedly. "We've discovered a spy in his ranks, he'll surely reward us-"

Orion snorted, piercing Draco with his eyes. "The Dark Lord knows, of course. If you and I can detect the lack of dark magic in this wizard's 'Dark Mark', Voldemort surely can as well. Oh, yes, he knows already. Something like this wouldn't fool him for a second."

He pocketed the stupefied wizard's wand and started to weave his arms under the impostor's body, while he said sharply, "Help me get him up."

"What do you want to do?" demanded Draco, though he helped Orion to get the unconscious wizard on his feet.

"You always carry a portkey to your Manor, don't you?" said Orion, heavily huffing when he laid the dead weight of the wizard against him, tightly wrapping his arm around him. "Take us to Malfoy Manor, Draco. I want to see who it is. He must be a spy for Dumbledore and I must know how much he babbled to the old coot."

Draco looked uncertain for a moment, nervously glancing to the closed door of the summoning chamber. "The Dark Lord won't like it-"

"Damn the Dark Lord to the deepest pits of hell!" spat Orion angrily, struggling with the body he carried. "I'll tell him about this afterwards. He knew about the spy and didn't tell me, and honestly, I don't care if he gets angry at me. I need to find out how much Dumbledore knows about my true allegiances!"

"Fine," hissed out Draco sharply, pulling out a thin chain from underneath his robes. He tightly wrapped his arms around Orion, gripping one of Orion's hands and one of the stupefied wizard's hands, and pressed them to the long chain. "Malfoy Manor!"

And in a swirl of colors, a pull around their navels, and a rush of space, they were gone.

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They were standing in the middle of the main parlor of Malfoy Manor, with the stupefied imposter tied to a chair by snakes Orion had conjured and by ropes casted by Draco. Furthermore, both of them had casted powerful silencing and anti-spying spells on the room, since Malfoy Manor was still being watched by the Ministry, ever since Lucius' imprisonment.

Now, they were standing in front of the unconscious wizard, gazing down at him, their expressions cold and calculatingly pensive.

"We can't use Imperius to command him to tell us the truth," said Draco, side-glancing at Orion. "It would surely be picked up by the Ministry's monitoring spells."

"You're right," agreed Orion, pensively frowning at the impostor. "We should try something else."

Draco poked the wizard's cheek with his wand. "He must be polyjuiced."

"Yeah," said Orion, "that is the only way he can have Barty's appearance, isn't it? But we can't wait for the effects of the Polyjuice Potion to fade away – it could take an hour and we don't have time to spare." He glanced at Draco thoughtfully. "Your mother still floo-calls Severus once in a while, doesn't she?"

"Yes, why do you ask?" inquired Draco, arching an eyebrow.

"Because then Severus has his floo-network opened to Malfoy Manor," said Orion quietly. "Therefore, you can floo into his quarters and ask him to give you Veritaserum and a potion that negates the effects of Polyjuice."

Draco scoffed. "Severus would ask too many questions-"

"Then cajole him to give you the potions without telling him anything," snapped Orion shortly. "You're his godson, you can get anything from him if you want to. He wants to help you with your task but doesn't know how since you won't accept his assistance and since he doesn't have your trust. Use that against him."

"Okay," said Draco, slyly smirking at him. "I'll be right back."

The young wizard eagerly sauntered away from the room, leaving Orion standing with his hands clasped behind his back, impatient and deep in thought.

The minutes seemed to indefinitely tick by, and finally, when Orion was about to try something drastic, Draco strolled back into the room, holding two stoppered vials in his hands, with a wide smirk playing on his lips.

"My _dear_ godfather finally relented," drawled Draco sarcastically. "He pinched the bridged of his overlarge, hooked nose and thrusted the vials into my hands, telling me that he rather not know what my feeble mind was up to, after all."

Orion sniggered, eyeing him with amusement. "That's Severus for you. He would have threatened to curse me into telling him the truth, if I had gone instead of you."

"I doubt it. He has a soft spot for you, I can tell," sniffed Draco, raising his chin as he coldly gazed down at the bound and unconscious wizard. His lips curled into a nasty smirk, while he handed one vial to Orion and uncorked the other. "Let's see who the spy is, shall we?"

"Go ahead," said Orion expectantly, stepping to a side to leave room for Draco.

Draco shot him a smirk, before he approached the impostor and forcefully pried open his mouth, summarily forcing the potion down his throat, massaging the wizard's adam's apple to make him shallow.

The unconscious wizard shuddered violently, and then slumped limply on the armchair he was bound to.

Orion frowned when nothing happened. "Are you sure you gave him the right potion?"

"Yes," said Draco, gazing down at the impostor with an annoyed scowl on his face. "The effects of the Polyjuice should have been negated right away. He should have instantly transformed back into his true appearance."

"Then he isn't polyjuiced," interjected Orion, his frown deepening.

"Right," said Draco crisply, side-glancing at him. "That's it then. I'm going to Imperio him-"

"But the Ministry's monitoring spells-"

"I'll deal with that," interrupted Draco sharply, "I can tighten the Manor's wards around this room, so that no casting is detected by the Ministry. I can sustain it for a few moments. It will be enough."

"Very well, then do it," said Orion, gesturing at the impostor while he shot his friend a challenging smile. "He's all yours."

Draco confidently smirked at him, before he briefly closed his eyes, an expression of deep concentration spreading across his aristocratic, handsome face.

"Done," said Draco, snapping open his eyes while he whipped out his wand and aimed it at the bound wizard. "Ennervate!"

With a haggard intake of breath and a violent shudder, the impostor's eyes flew open, alarmed and alert while his gaze darted from one boy to the other, struggling against the snakes and ropes which bound him to the chair.

But Draco didn't give him time to say anything. His face instantly adopted a ruthlessly resolved expression, and he spat, "Imperio!"

Immediately, the impostor's eyes glazed over and his body relaxed, gazing unseeingly into space.

Orion arched an eyebrow and glanced appreciatively at Draco, who proudly smirked back at him, drawling smugly, "I'm very good with the Imperius Curse."

"I can see that," said Orion, shooting him a respectful smile. "Finish it, then."

Draco nodded, and rounded on the imperioed wizard, with his wand still aimed at him, and said commandingly, "Assume your true form."

Instantly, before their eyes, the wizard's whole body shuddered and trembled while limbs shifted, features blurred, and muscles, skin and hair rearranged and changed. And in a blink of an eye, the impostor had turned into a young, beautiful witch with long, wavy black hair, a round, pretty face with large dark eyes, and an athletic, fit body.

"Slytherin's snakes!" gasped out Draco, staring at the witch. "She's a metamorphagus, and she looks like-"

"Like a young, sane Bellatrix Lestrange," whispered Orion, gaping at the imperioed woman with wide eyes. "Who is she-"

"Our cousin!" exclaimed Draco, gazing at him with startled realization. "I've never met her in person but I've heard about her. She's an Auror and a metamorpaghus. She's Nymphadora Tonks!"

"Merlin's socks," breathed out Orion, staring at her with a deep frown on his face. "Nymphadora Tonks… yes, my father told me about her a while ago…" He side-glanced at Draco, and snapped, "Cancel the Imperius before it's detected, hurry!"

Draco nodded, clenched his jaw, and instantly swished his wand through the air. The change was instantaneous; her eyes focused back into awareness, her hair turned into a mass of hot pink spikes, and her face shifted into common features.

She glared at them, struggling against her binds, and snapped furiously, "Release me, brats! What's the meaning of this? You casted an Unforgivable on me! I'll have your hide-"

"Shut it, Nymphadora," spat Draco angrily, digging his wand's tip into her cheek. "Tells us why you were-"

"Don't call me Nymphadora!" bit out the witch, bristling. She lifted her chin, glowering at them. "I'm Tonks."

"Why, you filthy blood traitor," hissed out Draco, sinking his wand deeper into her cheek, "I should crucio you for your impertinent and misplaced pride in your disgusting muggle surname, you pathetic little half-blood-"

"I'd like to see you try, my dear cousin," spat Nymphadora, eyeing him with defiance and contempt. "You're going to regret this. I'll make sure the Aurors prepare a cell in Azkaban for you, next to your father's-"

"Enough!" said Orion sharply, when he saw that Draco was about to lose his composure and seriously curse her.

"And you, Black," snapped Nymphadora angrily, her eyes narrowing at him, "you're the Boy-Who-Lived. How can you do this when Dumbledore-"

"Yes, we'll talk about the old coot in a minute," said Orion sharply, nastily smiling at her while he quickly uncorked the vial in his hands.

Her eyes widened with dread when she gazed at the vial, but Orion didn't give her time to react. He lurched forward and tightly gripped her face, prying open her mouth and forcefully making her gulp down the Veritaserum, pinching her nose and shutting close her mouth with a tight grip.

Nymphadora stopped struggling, she shuddered, and in an instant her body slumped against her chair's backrest, her expression blank and her eyes foggy.

Satisfied, Orion flicked his wand to vanish the empty potion vial, and he stepped back to tower in front of her.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"Nymphadora Tonks," replied the witch tonelessly.

"What's your occupation?" said Draco, glowering down at her.

"I'm an Auror for the English Ministry of Magic," said Nymphadora in a monotonous tone of voice.

Orion narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you a member of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes."

"I knew it," hissed out Draco angrily, glancing at Orion. "The Death Eaters have suspected her for a while."

Orion nodded, and gazed back at her, clasping his hands behind his back. "Were you impersonating Barty Crouch Jr. under Dumbledore's orders?"

"Yes."

"Why?" asked Orion sharply. "What's your mission?"

"To gather information about You-Know-Who's plans and about your involvement with him."

Orion's jaw tightened, and he demanded briskly, "What have you told Dumbledore about me?"

"That you're still seeing and visiting You-Know-Who, and that you're maintaining some sort of relationship with him."

"Fuck!" grumbled Orion angrily, pacing in front of her while he fiercely rubbed his forehead. "The old coot knows. What is he playing at, then? Why is he still giving me lessons if he knows that I'm truly on the Dark's side-"

"What are you talking about?" said Draco, gazing at him with a frown on his face.

"Dumbledore is giving me lessons," snapped Orion, spinning around to stare at him. "He's not teaching me spells, mind you. He's just telling me stuff about Voldemort because he wants me to kill him. Or I should say that he wants Voldemort to kill me. But if he knows that I'm still going to Voldemort's Manor, and thus that my true allegiance is to the Dark, then what are Dumbledore's real plans for me?"

"Dumbledore wants you to fight the Dark Lord because of the prophecy the Daily Prophet keeps mentioning, right?" asked Draco, intently eyeing him. "The prophecy my father failed to acquire – it's real? It's truly prophesized that you're the one who can kill the Dark Lord?"

"Yes, in a way," replied Orion shortly, waving a hand dismissively. "But it doesn't matter." He rounded on the witch, and demanded crisply, "What are Dumbledore's plans for me?"

"I don't know. He's only told the Order that we should keep an eye on you, to watch and protect you, if needed."

"What are your orders regarding me?"

"To inform Dumbledore about your dealings with You-Know-Who."

Orion deeply inhaled, and bit out, "Were you Barty during my bonding ceremony with Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"And did you tell Dumbledore that I'm Voldemort's spouse?" gritted out Orion.

"No," replied Nymphadora tonelessly, her eyes unfocused and hazy. "I couldn't say anything because I had to sign a magical contract which bounded me to secrecy-"

"Well, thank Merlin for that," snapped Orion, carding his fingers through his hair. "What about Barty, where is he?"

"He's being held at the Order's Headquarters."

"Where is that?" demanded Draco, an eager glint in his eyes.

Nymphadora's mouth opened, and then clamped shut, her lips quivering and her body violently trembling.

Orion frowned at her, before he glanced at Draco. "She cannot tell us, even though she's dosed with Veritaserum. They must have casted-"

"A Fidelius Charm," interjected Draco, nodding at him.

"Exactly," said Orion, gazing back at the witch. "The Order has a Secret Keeper, correct?"

"Yes," replied Nymphadora tonelessly.

"And she won't be able to tell us who it is, either," said Draco, with an expression of deep disappointment.

Orion nodded, and rounded back on witch, demanding sharply, "Since when have you been impersonating Barty and how was he apprehended?"

"I started masking myself as Barty Crouch Jr. since last year," replied Nymphadora monotonously. "He was discovered in France, whilst attempting to recruit followers for You-Know-Who. The French Aurors captured him and alerted Dumbledore. He was extradited to England and Dumbledore placed him under the Order's supervision."

"Your Dark Mark is fake," said Orion briskly. "How have you been able to answer Voldemort's summons and cross his Manor's wards?"

"Dumbledore casted spells on my forearm," replied Nymphadora, staring into space with unfocused eyes. "He gave me a temporary tattoo which is a replica of the Dark Mark. I don't know what spells he created and casted to accomplish it. I feel the summons as a pleasant tingle on my skin, and I'm able to apparate through You-Know-Who's wards."

"So Dumbledore knows the location of the Dark Lord's Manor?" demanded Draco, narrowing his eyes at her. "And about the wards casted on it?"

"Yes."

"Bloody hell," muttered Draco troubled. He shot Orion a glance, and said sharply, "That explains a lot."

"What do you mean?" asked Orion, frowning at him.

"The Dark Lord informed me," said Draco caustically, "that he'll soon be using Malfoy Manor as his new Headquarters."

"I see," said Orion quietly, gazing at him. "I told you that he knew about her. We've been suspecting about a spy in the Death Eater ranks for a while. He knows about her and that Dumbledore is able to get through the Dark Manor's wards if he wants to. It makes sense for Voldemort to choose your Manor as the new Headquaters – Malfoy Manor has powerful, ancient wards casted and piled up throughout the centuries."

"Yes, but it doesn't mean that I like to be ordered to give up my own Manor," interjected Draco crisply. He pointed at the witch, and added troubled, "And if Dumbledore is able to cast spells on her so that she can cross the wards of the Dark Lord's Manor, then why hasn't the Order attacked it?"

"Because it would be fruitless," replied Orion, his jaw clenching while he thought about the old man and the horcruxes. "The old coot knows that he can't kill Voldemort, not yet - not ever, if it's in my power. And he wants me to attempt it. He wouldn't send the Order to attack Voldemort's Manor because it would only result in pointless casualties."

"He can't kill the Dark Lord _yet_?" said Draco, piercing him with his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"I can only tell you that Voldemort has ensured his own survival," replied Orion dismissively. "Dumbledore cannot kill him and he expects me to do it, and to die in the process."

Draco deeply frowned at him with concern. "Why? I don't understand-"

"I'll tell you someday, if necessary," said Orion sharply. "For now, it's best for you to not know, believe me. Nevertheless, whatever the old codger is planning, I won't allow him to use me to kill Voldemort. The old coot won't be able to kill Voldemort – ever."

"Alright," grunted Draco, shooting him a displeased glance. He towered over the bound witch, and demanded sharply, "Does Dumbledore know or suspect anything about my task?"

"Your task?" said Nymphadora in a monotone. "I don't know anything about any task of yours."

Draco nodded, looking assuaged and satisfied, and he glanced at Orion. "Do you want to ask her anything else?"

"No," said Orion quietly, "she doesn't seem to know anything about Dumbledore's plans for me. I doubt that Dumbledore tells the Order about his schemes." He eyed Draco carefully, and added, "Furthermore, you should know that the old coot is aware that Voldemort gave you the mission of killing him-"

"What!?" choked out Draco, his expression aghast and terribly worried.

"Dumbledore knows about that," said Orion calmly, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, "but he doesn't know about the vanishing cabinet, or about your plan to have a group of Death Eaters entering the school. Moreover, Severus made him believe that he was the one who took the Unbreakable Vow, not I. Therefore, you have nothing to worry about. You'll get your chance to kill the old coot, and I'll be there with you."

"Very well," said Draco, clenching his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "What do you want to do with her? I think we should obliviate her and take her back to the Dark Lord-"

"No," interrupted Orion, with a deep frown on his face. "If we take her back and allow her to resume her spying activities while impersonating Barty, Voldemort will eventually kill her."

"Then let him do it," snapped Draco angrily. "She's a blood traitor and a spy, and it would be Dumbledore's fault anyway, for giving her this mission."

"Yes, it's the old coot's fault," interjected Orion quietly, "but I'm certain he was planning on getting her out before endangering her too much. I'm sure that Dumbledore is aware that Voldemort knows that she's a spy-"

"But why would Dumbledore send her, then?" asked Draco, frowning at him. "It's mightily stupid of the old man to place her in such a risky position. It's not as if the Order can afford to lose one of its members, and an Auror, to boot."

Orion scoffed, and angrily pointed at her. "Don't you see? This is how Voldemort and Dumbledore play against each other. This is how they communicate and signal each other; through misinformation! Each of them allows her to give the other bits of irrelevant information or covert misinformation, while trying to skim the truth out of layers of lies. That's how they use her. But in the end, if we don't get her out, Voldemort will kill her when her usefulness expires."

"Then what do you want to do?" demanded Draco, piercing him with his eyes while he crossed his arms over his chest. "If we don't get her back, then the Dark Lord will lose one of his pawns, and he'll be furious."

"True," said Orion, utterly unfazed, "but I don't want to risk her life. Dumbledore might not get the chance of pulling her out before Voldemort decides to kill her."

"That's the old coot's problem," hissed out Draco angrily, pointing at the still dazed and unaware witch. "It was his decision to use her in this way, and she's a blood traitor-"

Orion stared at him, interrupting shortly, "She's a Black-"

"She's a half-blood-"

"So am I!" snapped Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. "I'm a half-blood Black, remember? Just like her."

"You're a different case," said Draco sharply. "You're on the Dark's side. You're not a blood traitor."

"She's a blood traitor because she was raised as a light witch," interjected Orion in a steely tone of voice. "But she has dark blood in her veins. I want to give her a chance."

Draco snorted snidely. "Do you truly think that you can persuade her to change sides?"

"Perhaps," said Orion curtly, leveling him with a hard gaze. "There are few Blacks left, Draco. And she's one of us. I won't allow her to be killed. I'm the current Head of Black House and she's family. She has muggle blood in her veins, but she also has Black blood. And blood matters above everything else, Draco!"

"Yes, blood matters," said a calm, quiet voice.

Startled, Orion snapped his head around and he clamped his mouth shut when he saw Narcissa coolly assessing the situation before her, standing in the threshold of the room. She gracefully approached them, her small steps elegantly fluid, while her long, silky, sky blue dress swished around her.

"Mother," said Draco surprised, bowing at her in greeting, before his eyes darted, worriedly and uncertainly, between Nymphadora and Orion. "We came here to, er-"

"My Dragon," said Narcissa warmly, intently inspecting him with a concerned glint in her pale blue eyes. "You don't look too well."

"Um, I was summoned-"

"Yes, I gathered as much," interrupted Narcissa calmly. "Please make sure to take some healing potions before you get back to school."

She turned around and stoically gazed down at the witch bounded to the chair, her face a beautiful mask revealing nothing, and she murmured, "Andromeda's daughter..." Her pale blue eyes snapped to Orion's, and she said quietly, "Blood matters. Do it."

Orion nodded, and she gave him a small, warm smile before she smoothly turned around and left the room.

Draco stared after her in silence, and finally muttered, "She wants you to help Nymphadora. But she-"

"She doesn't want to know the details," interjected Orion, nodding at him with satisfaction and a fond smile on his face. "In case-"

"In case the Dark Lord peruses her mind," continued Draco, gazing back at Orion. He clenched his jaw, and said in a low, angry voice, pointing at Nymphadora, "Nevertheless, I don't agree with want you want to do. She's an Auror and a member of the Order. You're making a mistake. What if she doesn't change sides?"

"Then, I'll kill her," said Orion impassively.

Draco stared at him, arching an eyebrow. "You would?"

"Yes," said Orion coolly. "I'll give her time, and I'll give her a chance, but I won't let her go free and I won't allow her to go back to Dumbledore just to betray us and later fight against us. We can't afford it. Therefore, if she doesn't change sides, I'll kill her."

Draco tiredly sighed, before he squared his shoulders, and said quietly, "Very well. We save her then. Where do we take her?"

"_You_ are not taking her anywhere," said Orion pointedly, eyeing him with concern since the young wizard still looked frayed and exhausted. "You had a rough day and you need to take your potions now. You suffered the effects of a Dementor because of me and then Voldemort crucioed you. Not to mention that you're barely getting any sleep nowadays because of your task. I'll take care of her."

Draco resolutely shook his head. "No, we're in this together-"

"I appreciate it," interrupted Orion, warmly smiling at him while he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "but I truly don't need your help. Take your potions and get back to Hogwarts, Draco. And let me worry about Nymphadora. It's better if you don't know what I'll do with her, either. In case Voldemort attempts to get it from your mind."

"Fine," said Draco, heavily sighing. "Then I'll give you a portkey so that you can return here to floo to Severus' quarters in Hogwarts, after you take her wherever it is you're taking her."

"Thanks, a portkey would be useful," interjected Orion, grinning at him.

Draco nodded and approached the mantelpiece of the nearby fireplace, pointing his wand at a beautiful, small glass figurine of a wizard and witch dancing together. "Portus!"

The figurine vibrated and glowed in an intense blue for a few seconds, before it settled down, and Draco snatched it and handed it to Orion. "I'm going to get some potions from the storeroom. You can return this to me on Monday." He pierced him with his silvery eyes, and added with concern, "What will you say to the Dark Lord about Nymphadora?"

Orion tiredly rubbed his forehead. "The truth. Tomorrow I'll send him a letter from Durmstrang, and I'll see him next weekend. If he summons me before that, I'll ignore it. Hopefully, his anger will lessen during the week, before I see him in person."

"You're a fool for incurring in the Dark Lord's wrath just to save a blood traitor like her," muttered Draco, though he was gazing at him with an intense emotion glinting in his eyes. He eyed him closely, taking a step to be inches away from him, and added worriedly, "You don't look too well either. What happened between the Dark Lord and you, when you answered his summon?"

"We dueled and we quarreled," said Orion stiffly, glancing away from him. "But he doesn't know that I was with you."

"Did you tell him that you wanted to have a lover?" asked Draco, intently observing him.

"Yes," replied Orion, clenching his jaw while he stared back at him. "We reached a compromise on the matter but I… well, some things were said, and I… I'll end up doing whatever I want."

"And what is that?" said Draco, expectantly gazing at him while he slowly carded his fingers through Orion's hair.

Orion gazed back into Draco's silvery eyes, feeling a sudden blaze of desire and warmth. He smirked at him, before he gently grabbed Draco' nape and ghosted his lips over his. "I'll end up having you, when all this mess is over. Like we agreed, remember?"

"I remember," whispered Draco huskily, his silvery eyes darkening. He took a step back and dropped his hand from Orion's hair, while he smirked back at him. "Very well. I'll look forward to that."

"Me too," said Orion grinning at him.

Abruptly, they saw from the corner of their eyes how Nymphadora started stirring and repeatedly shaking her head, and Orion whipped out his wand, and snapped, "Stupefy!"

The witch slumped against her chair, and Draco glanced back at Orion. "I'll leave you to deal with her. I'll see you on Monday."

He shot Orion one last heated glance before he swiftly turned around and calmly sauntered away from the room, though Orion caught sight of a lingering limp in the young wizard's smooth strides. Draco had been injured by Voldemort much more gravely than what he had admitted.

Orion heavily sighed and carded his fingers through his hair, before he gazed down at the unconscious witch. He didn't know where to take her. He wouldn't go back to Riddle Manor, even though Voldemort was surely expecting to see him waiting in the bedroom. And though he still needed to have a serious conversation with the wizard, to demand some things and to discuss the plans for the war, he would leave the matter for their next meeting, since now he had to do something about Nymphadora Tonks.

He deeply frowned while he stared at her. He couldn't take her to Black Manor, because even though the wards wouldn't allow her to leave she would be alone with his house-elves and who knew what she could do. He wouldn't risk the destruction of his possessions. And he couldn't take her to Potter Manor either, since Grindelwald was there and no one knew about the wizard or that he had access to the Manor. There were other Black and Potter estates, but he couldn't leave her alone and unsupervised...

Suddenly, an idea struck him, and his eyes glinted with satisfaction. It would be imposing a burden and responsibility on his friend, but he couldn't think of a better solution. And the two of them knew each other from before, if he remembered correctly.

He aimed his wand at her, and said sharply, "Ennervate!"

Nymphadora's eyes snapped open, glancing around, alarmed and alert. But before she had time to say anything, he instantly hissed, "_C__lausus mentisss!_"

A golden beam struck the witch's forehead and formed a golden sphere, before sinking through her head, enveloping her mind while Orion hissed in his mind all the commands and instructions to form the appropriate compulsion mind web. It was the same parsel spell he had casted on Severus years ago, so that the wizard wouldn't disclose his secrets. And because of it, now Nymphadora wouldn't be able to tell anyone about what had happened from the moment she had clumsily stumbled out of Voldemort's summoning chamber. She would remember, and she would be able to talk about it with Draco and him, but she wouldn't be able to speak about it or share the memory with anyone else, since that was exactly how he was building the compulsion mind web.

Once it was done, deeply satisfied, Orion aimed his wand at her one last time, and snapped, "Stupefy!"

The witch slumped back against the armchair, and Orion grimaced with commiseration. After all the stunning and enervating spells casted on her, she would have a wrecking migraine for a few days.

He smoothed his robes and flicked his wand, cancelling the snakes and ropes which bounded her to the chair. Then, he gently lifted her, tightly embracing her against his chest, and he plucked out the chain hanging around his neck. With an eager smile on his lips, he pressed one of her hands around the pendant of the stag, dog, and werewolf, also clutching it himself, and whispered, "Padfoot."

o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-

They landed in the middle of a vast clearing in the midst of a dense forest. The night was dark, with countless, sparkling stars mottling the black, clear skies, and a crescent moon glowing with magnificent beauty, casting shadows from tall tress surrounding them.

Orion gaped while he glanced around, still tightly embracing the stupefied witch against his chest. Even though it was dark, he could perfectly see thanks to torches and gas lamps hanging from trees circling the vast expanse of the clearing. With a surge of pride, he inspected what Remus had built. He had never before used the portkey to visit the werewolf camp, but he was certainly satisfied with how Remus was using the money from the main Black vault.

He had expected a camp with tents, some fires here and there, and meager living conditions. But what he saw exceeded anything he could have imagined. It couldn't be described as a camp, it was more like a small, cozy village. To his right, there were countless small, wooden lodges, lined one next to the other. To his left, he could distinguish several simple buildings made of stone and wood: one was basically a roofed enclosure with large tables surrounded by wooden chairs and with a stone oven in the middle, lit by fire and carbon; another looked like a small school with a fenced playground to a side; and there was one with large windows through which he could see several shelves filled with books and some couches, it looked like a small library. The last wooden structure, which was in the center of the village, appeared to be a meeting place of sorts. It was a roofed enclosure, and he could see that its ground was covered by thick furs, with blazing fires nearby. From the distance, he couldn't distinguish the shifting forms faintly lit by the fires, but he was almost certain that the resting and undulating forms that were spread on the furs were people, sleeping all bunched together.

Orion arched an eyebrow at that, but he continued inspecting the place. There were pebbled paths leading to the buildings and lodges, trailing in the midst of the vast expanse of grass. The small lodges had patches of gardens on the front, and he could distinguish orchards at the back. And not too far away from the village, he could see the rippling outline of a river, and he could hear the rushing of the water. Moreover, everything was dimly lit by oil lamps hanging from the porches of the lodges and by some muggle gas lamps pinned to the wooden buildings. And there was one lodge which was slightly larger than the rest, with tall torches speared to the ground, lining the pebbled path which led to it. Furthermore, the village was encircled by a high, sturdy, wooden fence, from which he distinguished the faint glimmer of strong magical wards. And he could feel more wards all around the forest which surrounded the village. He deduced that the wards must keep out wandering muggles and wizards, and also keep in the werewolves when they transformed during full moon nights.

All in all, the 'camp' looked like some cozy and neighborly rural village. And Orion was immensely proud of Remus.

Smiling, he stopped inspecting his surroundings and decided to get going. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it was surely very late since no one was wandering around, though he could see candle light spearing through the curtains of some lodges as well as smoke coming out from small, stone chimneys. With the use of one knee, he hefted the unconscious Nymphadora higher up in his arms, to carry her in bridal style, and he advanced forwards, taking one of the pebbled paths which led to the lodges.

Abruptly, he felt something hard and pointy being stabbed into his neck, and a low, rough voice behind him growled with a heavy accent, "Are ye lost, human?"

Startled, for he hadn't heard anyone stealthily approaching him, he turned his face towards the voice and squinted into the dark. A muscled man in his late twenties was jabbing a wand into his neck. His features were strong, manly, and ruggedly handsome, with thin lips, wild curly hair, deep, menacing amber eyes, an old scar slashing through an eyebrow, and a rough line of stubble along his squared jaw. His broad, muscled chest, scattered with old scars, was unclothed and he was barefoot, though he was wearing black slacks.

Orion inspected him with curiosity, and finally said quietly, "I'm a wizard, not a muggle."

"Makes no difference," said the man gruffly, sinking the wand's tip deeper into Orion's neck. "Ye have no business here, wizard. How did ye get past our wards?"

"I used a porkey," replied Orion crisply. "I'm here to see Remus Lupin."

The man narrowed his amber eyes at him, and demanded harshly, "Our Alpha? Why do ye want to see him?" He pointed a finger at Nymphadora, and added in a low, rough voice, "And who's her?" He viciously bared sharp, gleaming teeth at him. "A human sacrifice? You're bringing us something tasty to eat?"

"No," said Orion caustically, clutching the witch tighter against his chest. "She's a friend. Now, will you take me to Remus?"

"That's Alpha for ye, wizard," spat the man brusquely, angrily narrowing his eyes at him.

"I'll call Remus however I want," snapped Orion impatiently. "And you're a wizard as well, aren't you? Given that you're stabbing me with your bloody wand."

"I'm a werewolf," growled the man angrily, poking his wand deeper into Orion's flesh. "And ye'll show respect to our Alpha and address him as such. Tell me yer name and why ye've come here before I rip ye apart, wizard."

Orion huffed angrily. "I'm Orion Black and Remus Lupin is my friend. He gave me a portkey to come here whenever I needed to. Thus, here I am, and I want to see him now."

"Ye're Black?" said the man in his harsh, low voice, his amber eyes scrutinizing him. "Our Alpha has told us about ye. Follow me, and no funny business or I'll snap yer neck."

Promptly, the man turned around and firmly strode along the pebbled path lined with torches, with Orion trailing after him, fuming.

"Who are you?" asked Orion to the broad, muscled back in front of him.

"That's none of yer soddin' business, wizard," harshly snapped the werewolf, without turning around.

They took some steps and halted in front of the wooden door of the largest lodge, the only one which had its pebbled path lined by torches. The werewolf knocked, before brusquely clutching Orion's shoulder and pushing him inside after opening the door.

Orion almost tripped and stumbled as he was roughly shoved inside, but he quickly regained his balance, grasping Nymphadora tightly against him, and he glanced around.

The small lodge was cozy and welcoming, and the furniture was austere but neatly arranged and seemingly comfortable. There were some framed wizarding pictures hanging from the wooden walls, a carpet on the floor, many shelves filled with books, a blazing fireplace with two comfortable sofas and a low table in front of it, curtained windows, several candles and oil lamps illuminating the place, an opened door which led to a kitchen with a dinner table, an ajar door which led to a small bathroom, and two other closed doors which Orion assumed to lead to bedrooms. And finally, against one of the walls, there was a large desk, with a tall, lean man seated at it, absorbedly reading a book.

"M'Alpha," said the young werewolf, lowering on one knee without touching the floor as he bared and stretched his neck to a side, as if offering it in submission, while he roughly clutched Orion's shoulder to push him in front of him. "This wizard claims to be Orion Black. He came unannounced and impertinently requested to see ye."

"Orion!" said Remus with surprise, after gazing up from his book. "What are you doing here?"

He stood up and quickly approached them, with a gentle smile spreading on his face while his gaze took in Orion.

Remus stopped short in front of them, glancing down at the witch in Orion's arms, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "Tonks? I wasn't aware that you knew her." He glanced back at Orion, and asked with concern, "What's happened? Is she injured? Why are you carrying her-"

"I'll explain soon enough," interrupted Orion, struggling against the rough grasp on his shoulder. He whipped his head around, and snapped angrily, "Unhand me, you brute!"

The young werewolf bared his teeth at him, and growled menacingly, "Watch how ye address me, wizard!"

"Call back your beast, Remus," hissed out Orion, unsuccessfully attempting to shift the body in his arms in order to reach his wand.

"Who are ye calling a beast?" snarled angrily the werewolf, sinking his fingernails into Orion's shoulder. "I could easily rip ye apart, wizard-"

"And I could easily kill you if I wasn't carrying her," bit out Orion, glaring at the man.

Remus glanced at the other werewolf, and said quietly, "Enough. Release him."

"Yes, m'Alpha," said the man gruffly, brusquely releasing Orion while shooting him a feral and menacing glower.

Orion stumbled a step forward, before he straightened up and hefted Nymphadora's body to secure her in his arms. "She's getting heavy, Remus. Where can I lay her down?"

"Come with me," said Remus, worriedly glancing at the unconscious witch. "I have a spare bedroom."

Orion nodded and followed the wizard into one of the bedrooms, gently laying Nymphadora on the bed. He smoothed his disheveled robes and went back into the sitting room, with a concerned Remus by his side.

"What has happened?" said Remus instantly, briefly glancing at the closed door of the bedroom they had left.

"I'll explain everything," interjected Orion tartly, before he glared at the other werewolf. "But can you tell him to leave? I don't wish to have an audience."

Remus glanced at him, startled, before a small smile spread on his face. "Oh, I trust Patrick with my life. He's my Beta."

"Your Beta?" said Orion, arching an eyebrow. "You've established a hierarchy in your packs?"

The only thing he knew about werewolves was what he had read from textbooks and learned at Durmstrang, which wasn't much, just the basics. And Remus had never taken the time to tell him about pack dynamics and their ways.

"Yes," replied Remus, gently smiling at him. He glanced at the other werewolf, and added, "Allow me to introduce you to each other. Patrick, this is Orion Black. I've already told you about him. And Orion, this is Patrick Connolly, known in my pack as Sharpfang. He was Greyback's Beta before he joined my pack. And now, he's my Beta."

"This is Orion Black, then?" said Patrick gruffly, eyeing Orion with scathing contempt. "He's the Boy-Who-Lived? He doesn't seem much to me, just another human weakling."

"And you just look like a flea-bitten mutt to me," snapped Orion caustically. "Appearances can be deceiving, can't they?"

"Insult me one more time, wizard," snarled Patrick, bearing his sharp teeth at him, "and ye'll know the meaning of pain."

Orion snidely scoffed. "Nothing that you could do to me, either with your fangs or wand, remotely scares me. Believe me, I know the meaning of pain already, and what you can dish out pales in comparison. If you want me to address you respectfully, then start by doing the same for me."

"He has a valid point, Patrick," interjected Remus, leveling at them a quelling gaze. "You haven't been polite, either."

"Fine," growled Patrick, eyeing Orion with distaste.

"You're a pureblood, aren't you?" said Orion crisply, closely observing him. "Connolly is an Irish dark pureblood surname."

"I _was_ a pureblood," said Patrick brusquely. "Now, I'm a werewolf – a dark creature." His lips curled into a feral smirk, and he sneered, "Which is much better than being a physically weak wizard like ye."

"Oh, I can certainly see that you came from Greyback's pack," countered Orion acerbically. "Do you also like to infect little children, while devouring others, like he used to do?"

"I don't prize others with the wolf gift," snarled Patrick angrily, "nor do I kill for pleasure, not unless I'm given a good reason for it. And ye're starting to give me one."

"Yeah, whatever you say," scoffed Orion, before he addressed Remus, "I don't see why you took Greyback's Beta to be your own. You could have chosen someone more apt-"

"I heard that ye're the Dark Lord's bitch," interrupted Patrick nastily, with a vicious curl of his lips.

"I'm his spouse," hissed out Orion angrily. "And what were you – Greyback's fuck toy?"

Instantly, Patrick had his wand pressed against Orion's neck, growling furiously under his breath, while Orion had swiftly whipped out his wand, jabbing it into the werewolf's cheek.

"Enough, you two," said Remus firmly, shooting at them a sternly disapproving gaze. "I wish you could get along. Orion, he's my Beta and has my full confidence and trust. Patrick, I couldn't tell you before, but he is indeed the Dark Lord's spouse. Moreover, you already know that he's our ally. He's the one who lend me, and is still lending us, the money to build and maintain our community, and he's the one who helped me come to an agreement with the Dark Allies. So stand back, both of you. Now!"

"Alright," said Orion crisply, pocketing his wand while he impassively crossed his arms over his chest, though remaining highly alert in case the young werewolf tried anything. "I came here to discuss some matters, not to fight, after all."

"Patrick," growled Remus under his breath, leveling a warning glance at the other werewolf.

"Aye, m'Alpha," said Patrick in a low, rumbling voice, shooting at Orion a dark, malicious glower before also pocketing his wand.

"Good," said Remus quietly. "Let's take a seat, then."

Orion followed Remus towards the only fireplace in the lodge, seating on a sofa across from him, while Patrick took a chair to seat by Remus' right side, his deep, amber gaze never leaving Orion.

"Why did you bring Tonks here?" said Remus, frowning at him with worry. "I assume she isn't injured since you would have said something about it by now. What's happened to her, and when did you meet her?"

"I met her today," replied Orion, tiredly rubbing his forehead. He pierced him with his eyes, and added gravely, "She was spying for Dumbledore, Remus. She has been taking Barty Crouch Jr.'s appearance, passing off as a Death Eater. But it's rubbish, I'm sure Voldemort knows that it's her. I discovered that she wasn't truly Barty today, at Voldemort's Manor, and I whisked her away. Voldemort would have ended up killing her soon enough. That's why I've brought her here. I didn't know whom else to trust to watch over her, but you. And right now, she's just stupefied."

"Dear Merlin," grumbled Remus, shaking his head, "Dumbledore made her infiltrate Death Eater ranks? How could he endanger her like that-"

"Oh, come off it," snapped Orion, bristling. "It shouldn't surprise you! Dumbledore made you go back several times to spy on Greyback's pack when you were working for the Order. And the old coot also wants to use me to kill Voldemort. How can his manipulations still surprise you, Remus?"

"It doesn't surprise me," growled Patrick, piercing Orion with his amber eyes. "Fenrir always said that Dumbledore had to be killed. That's one of the few thing in which I still agreed with Fenrir, in the end."

Orion curtly nodded at him, before he glanced back at Remus. "You knew Nymphadora from before, right? When you worked for the Order?"

"Yes," replied Remus quietly, gazing at him. "I got along very well with her, before I left the Order when you convinced me to take charge of the werewolf packs in England. She…" He cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Well, she…"

Orion arched an eyebrow. "She what?"

"She believed that she had a crush on me," said Remus quietly, looking uneasy.

"Did she now?" said Orion, eyeing him with amusement. He shot him a smirk. "And do you like her too?"

Remus sternly pierced him with his eyes, and said gravely, "I am much older than her and a werewolf, cub."

"So what?" interjected Orion impassively. "Neither of those things are an obstacle." He smugly smirked at him. "Anyway, I see that I brought her to the right place."

"You can't mean to leave her here," said Remus, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "This is a werewolf community, my cub."

Orion placidly rested back on his sofa, nonchalantly stretching out his legs. "Yes, but I saw and felt your wards, Remus. She'll be safe here, and you can lock her in this lodge, under several protective wards, on full moon nights, so that neither you nor the rest of the transformed werewolves harm her in any way. You said to the Dark Allies that your 'camp' would be a secure place, and I already saw that it is."

"We can't allow a human to live with us," interjected Patrick harshly, narrowing his eyes at him. "This community was established only for our kind. Not for ye to unload yer burdens on us-"

"I believe it's your Alpha's decision, not yours," interrupted Orion sharply. He pierced Remus with his eyes, and said adamantly, "I have nowhere else to leave her, Remus. Furthermore, you're the only one I can think of who can convince her to support the Dark, since you tell me that you got along with her and that she liked you. I'm giving her a chance with this. If she doesn't turn to our side, I'll have to kill her."

"You cannot possibly mean that!" said Remus aghast, searchingly gazing at him.

"I do," said Orion coolly, leveling at him a hard gaze. "She's a blood traitor-"

"Your father was also called that," interjected Remus sternly, eyeing him closely. "If he was still alive, would you kill him if he didn't support the Dark and what you have done?"

Orion clenched his jaw, and bit out, "If he was alive and turned against me, I would lock him away in some place safe for him and also so that he couldn't do any damage to the Dark. I care about family, but not to the point of risking our chances in the war. I wouldn't kill my own father, of course, but I would do anything else so that he wouldn't be an obstacle. Nymphadora is a different matter entirely. She's a Black, that's why I'm giving her this opportunity, but I don't know her and therefore I don't truly care about her. If she doesn't turn to the Dark side, I will kill her, Remus. She's an Auror and knows too much as it is. I won't risk it."

"You disappoint me, cub," said Remus quietly, piercing him with his eyes. "You weren't this ruthless before, and your position regarding Tonks is unjust and merciless. You can't expect her to change her views-"

"You might be right," interrupted Orion sharply, "but this is what she's getting. Furthermore, I don't care if my decision about her disappoints you. I saved her from Voldemort, and also from Dumbledore's clutches. Ultimately, I'm doing her a favor. Moreover, the important matter is that I'm not disappointing myself." He bore his eyes into Remus, and added harshly, "I cannot satisfy everyone. You wish I could be more compassionate and others wish I could be more ruthless and cold. In the end, I don't care about what all of you expect from me. I will act according to my own beliefs, and I'll be the wizard I want to be. Nothing you can say to me will change my mind on this subject."

Remus sadly shook his head. "I knew you would keep changing under Voldemort's influence-"

"This has nothing to do with Voldemort," snapped Orion angrily, narrowing his eyes at him. "For Merlin's sake, Remus, you're part of the Dark as well. Don't you see that ruthlessness is necessary nowadays? We're at war!"

"I'm part of the Dark," interjected Remus sternly, piercing him with a hard glint in his eyes, "because I want to give my kind the rights we deserve. And because all the other alphas from Europe and I reached an agreement with the Dark Allies, in which we wouldn't be attacking muggleborns and muggles. And you also promised me this. We are indeed at war, but I still expect you to be merciful when warranted, just like I will be. I'm the Alpha of this community, of all the werewolves in England, but I lead them with justice and fairness. And it's fairness what I want for muggles and muggleborns, and it's fairness what I want for Tonks."

"And it's fairness what they'll have," said Orion sharply. "I won't discuss muggles and muggleborns with you this time, but what I'm giving Nymphadora is a fair deal. She's an Auror, and as such she has persecuted dark wizards, her own kind, whether she likes to admit it or not. Giving her the chance to turn to the Dark is fair. Just like killing her for being an Auror, a blood traitor, an Order member, and a spy is also fair. Furthermore, she's a Black and I'm the current Head of Black House, therefore it's my right to decide her fate."

"You're speaking like a dark pureblood-"

"I am a dark pureblood," snapped Orion impatiently. "And I behave accordingly."

"You have muggle blood as well," pointed out Remus sternly, piercing him with his eyes.

Orion smirked at him. "Just a bit, yes. But it changes nothing."

"A bit? You're a halfblood-"

"Not quite," said Orion, his smirk widening whilst thinking about his Potter blood. "I'm closer to being a pureblood than a halfblood, actually."

Remus deeply frowned at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'll tell you someday soon," said Orion dismissively, catching sight of Patrick intently scrutinizing him with an interested glint in his amber eyes. "Now, will you take her in?"

"Yes," said Remus with a heavy sigh. "It seems that I have no choice given your position concerning her." He bore his eyes into his, and added sternly, "I'll make sure she's safe here and that she doesn't leave, and I'll attempt to convince her to support us and the Dark. But I'll also protect her from you if she doesn't want to turn."

Orion arched an eyebrow. "Would you really, Remus? Are you prepared to kill me, then?"

"Kill you?" said Remus appalled. He clenched his jaw, and said sharply, "Would you kill me if I was protecting her from you, my cub?"

"I would incapacitate you, harming you as less as possible," said Orion coolly, "in order to kill her if she decided to still support the Light. Therefore, do try to persuade her, Remus." He waved his hand dismissively. "Regardless, you'll have plenty of time for it. Just make sure she can never leave this place and that she can't communicate with anyone from the Light."

"Very well," said Remus curtly, his jaw still tightly clenched. "I won't fight with you over this subject any longer. But we'll have a further discussion if she doesn't turn to the Dark, cub."

"Fair enough," interjected Orion impassively. He sat up straight on his sofa, briefly glancing at Patrick before intently gazing back at Remus. "You've spoken openly about the Dark Allies, am I to assume correctly that he already knows about them?"

"Yes, as my Beta, I've been taking Patrick to several Dark Allies meetings," replied Remus, staring at him with curiosity. "Why do ask, cub?"

"I would like to hear his opinion about them," said Orion, arching an eyebrow at Patrick. "So Connolly, what do you think about the Dark Allies?"

"They are agreeable enough. They have accepted all our terms," replied Patrick in his low, gruff voice. "And some came here to inspect our community. They were satisfied with our security measures and our wards. They know that, when we transform during the full moon, the wards don't allow us to leave the forest to go hunting into nearby muggle and wizarding towns." He shot him a feral smirk. "Not that they cared about us attacking muggles, but they were satisfied that we couldn't harm any wizards. Furthermore, other alphas of continental European packs were invited here, and they have begun building up similar communities in their countries. Our idea is that every country should have its own town populated by werewolves, with the necessary security wards, of course."

Orion arched an eyebrow, staring at him with deep interest. "So this village will become a town, eventually? You'll have stores and more amenities?" He grinned at him. "And your own Diagon Alley?"

"Aye, exactly," said Patrick, his lips curving with satisfaction.

"And what about those in your pack who are muggles? How are they faring?"

"We have werewolves in our midst who are muggles," replied Patrick, "though the majority of us are wizards. Nevertheless, those who aren't magical are treated equally since they supply their own share of work to our community. And they are quite glad to be living amongst some of their kind who are also wizards. You see, we can protect 'em and make things easier for 'em. And they are welcomed to attend our school where some of us give lessons on wizarding subjects. Most of the werewolves who are wizards didn't get a magical education, but we're quickly changing that. We bought plenty of wands and books, and we're teaching 'em how to cast defensive and offensive spells and curses. We'll be ready for the war, and this place will always be a safe retreat for us. Our own lycanthropic town – Lycaon."

"Lycaon?" said Orion, quirking an eyebrow. "That's the name of this village?"

Patrick shot him a proud, feral smirk. "Aye, that's the name m'Alpha gave this community."

"After the king of muggle Greek mythology?" inquired Orion with curiosity, gazing at Remus. "According to Greek myths, Lycaon was the King of Arcadia, and the first known werewolf. Supposedly, he founded a pagan cult to the gods of the Olympus, gruesomely killing people to offer their blood in sacrifice to the gods. Outraged and horrified by it, Zeus descended in order to verify if the killing of innocents was true, and he punished Lycaon by turning him into a wolf when Lycaon served him human flesh during dinner. And Lycaon became the first werewolf, the first 'lycanthrope', which comes from the Greek terms of lykos and anthropos, which mean wolf and man, respectively."

Remus nodded at him with a small smile on his face, while Patrick snorted, and said scathingly, "So ye're a bookworm, Black. It figures."

"I like to read, yes," said Orion crisply, shooting him a glare.

"You're right about Lycaon," interjected Remus calmly, "he was the first werewolf muggles knew about, but he wasn't the first werewolf in history." He smiled at him. "And of course that mythical gods had nothing to do with it. Lycaon was just one more human who had been bitten and infected by a werewolf."

"Then what's the origin of werewolves?" asked Orion, deeply interested.

Remus heavily sighed, and replied quietly, "It's not known, but we believe that we come from ancient magical wolf-like creatures, which mated with humans and passed on their blood, and thus some of their traits, to half-breed muggles and wizards who descended from them. I believe that's how it all started."

"I see," mused Orion aloud, "and just like vampires, werewolves can create more of their kind by biting and turning humans, or by having children." He pierced Remus with his eyes. "A saw a small playground next to a house that looked like a school. You have children in your packs, then?"

"Yes," replied Remus, "some in Lycaon came to form part of my packs with the children they already had, and some others had children whilst being here."

"Are they werewolves too?"

"It depends on who their parents are," said Remus calmly. "Sometimes, the child of a witch or wizard and a werewolf doesn't carry the lycanthropic trait, and sometimes they do, and it's detected in their first full-moon transformation, when the child turns fifteen. If both of the child's parents are werewolves, then the child always carries the lycanthropic trait, and he becomes a werewolf with his first transformation at fifteen."

Orion nodded, before he gazed at him, troubled, "And you're allowing your pack to freely have children. I'm sure that you're aware that you're breaking the Ministry's Werewolf Code of Conduct of 1673. Remus, if the Ministry of Magic found out about this and about Lycaon, they would send Aurors to whisk all of you to Azkaban. You know this, don't you?"

"Let 'em try," snarled Patrick angrily, baring his teeth menacingly. "We have the right to have our own children. We won't be treated as animals that should be castrated, in their opinion!"

"I know, and I agree with you," interjected Orion sharply. "But it's very risky. Prejudice against your kind is very high. The English Ministry of Magic alone has several units trying to control you. There's the Beast and Being Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and they also have the Werewolf Registry and the Werewolf Capture Unit. I'm sure that none here have registered, and since they have also broken the law by having children, they could easily be persecuted by Aurors and by the Werewolf Capture Unit."

"That's why we have powerful wards in and around Lycaon," said Remus quietly, piercing him with his eyes. "The wards would alert us if wizards entered the forest, and we would be prepared to fight or flee-"

"To fight, m'Alpha," interrupted Patrick fiercely, with a low growl. "We will fight."

Remus nodded, and then stared at Orion with a small smile on his face. "We are breaking the law now, my cub, but we're doing what you and I agreed on and planned for."

"Yes, I know," interjected Orion, relaxing. "According to our allegiance, and to your pact with the Dark Allies, werewolves will have the same civil rights as wizards, and that includes having children, of course. It's just that you should be careful, because we haven't won the war yet, and if we lost, the Ministry will heavily punish the survivors, and that includes werewolf children. You should have a plan for this scenario, to protect them."

"Are you planning on losing, Black?" snarled Patrick scathingly.

"No," replied Orion impassively, "but you should know that if the Dark lost you would be on your own – and you should plan for that possibility. The Dark Allies will die in battle or flee if we started losing, the Dark Lord wouldn't care about you either, and I would be dead, and therefore unable to offer you protection or allies."

"Why wouldn't you survive if the Dark lost the war, my cub?" asked Remus, eyeing him with a deep frown of worry. "Sure, the war will be fierce and many will die, but you have many willing to protect you. And your allies-"

"It doesn't matter why," interrupted Orion dismissively, "just that I'll either succeed or die in the attempt of winning the wars for the Dark. I've known this for a while, it doesn't bother me. But you should know that if I die and Voldemort survives, he won't fulfill the terms of your allegiance with him and the Dark Allies. I have always warned you about this. Furthermore, if I die, I'm fairly certain that the Zraven Clan would break all ties with our side. They are my allies only, they expressed this clearly. They'll support me but no other. Your pack, the Zraven Clan, and some wizards and witches who have allied themselves to me, will come together to fight during battles, and I'll be with all of you, leading. But that union will break if I don't survive, and you should plan for it, just in case."

Remus remained silent, observing him with troubled concern, but Patrick nodded and said gruffly, "Very well, we'll make plans for that eventuality." He bared his teeth, and added with a sneer, "We weren't counting on having vampires helping us, in any case. Blood-suckers can't be trusted. They care for no one but their own kind."

"And so do you," interjected Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "Your views about werewolves are just as purist as Greyback's, it seems to me."

"They are," said Patrick brusquely, piercing him with feral amber eyes.

Orion nodded in acceptance, since he understood it. After all, most dark purebloods were like that; proud and certain about their own superiority. And the same applied to creatures such as vampires and werewolves. The Zravens certainly regarded themselves as being superior to any other creatures or humans.

He leaned back on his sofa, and decided to change the subject to something less serious and grave. He glanced at Remus, and said with a warm smile, "Anyway, I'm glad to have seen Lycaon. This is what you had envisioned for your kind, all along. I remember vividly how we planned together, when you came to Severus' house. We planned how I would offer to the Dark Allies your allegiance through me, and we planned for you to build something like Lycaon in the future. I didn't tour the village, but I'm very impressed by it, nonetheless. I think it's wonderful that you already have your own village. The muggle vampires have their own covens and wizarding vampires have their citadels. It was high time for your kind to take a leaf out of their book."

"It was," said Remus, smiling back at him. "In time, Lycaon will grow into a town, and then into a larger community of werewolves. And, like vampires, we'll have our own secretive home, and we'll be able to go into wizarding communities if we wish to. Without fearing persecution or discrimination."

"If we win the war," pointed out Orion quietly.

"Yes," interjected Remus, gazing at him gravely. "If we win."

"Will ye still supply us with funds?" abruptly demanded Patrick, narrowing his eyes at Orion.

"Of course," replied Orion, arching an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I?"

"And ye ask nothing in return?" said Patrick brusquely, piercing him with a hard, suspicious glint in his eyes.

"Remus is my friend," said Orion sharply, "and he's using the funds of the main Black vault. My father would have loved to help him in this way, and money isn't an issue for me. Thus, I'm doing what my father would have done in my place. And you're already my allies. So no, I won't ask anything in return-"

"As long as we always remain yer allies," interrupted Patrick gruffly. "Right?"

Orion smirked at him. "Of course. I'm not an idiot. If you turned against me, why would I fund my enemies?"

"There's no question about turning against you, my cub," interjected Remus quietly, gazing at him with gentle affection, "no matter our disagreements."

Orion warmly smiled at him. "I know. Thanks." He straightened up, and said gravely, "There's one more thing I want to ask you. What happened with Greyback? You told me that you would have to fight him in order to assume the leadership of all the packs of England. You are now the only Alpha, so did you fight him?"

"No," said Remus, looking angry. "Indeed, by tradition we should have fought until death, and the survivor would have earned the right to be the Alpha. But he never showed up to our appointed confrontation. By then, he had already lost many pack members who came to join me here, when Lycaon was starting up. I think Fenrir realized that fighting me was already pointless. He left the few who still made up his pack, and he thoroughly joined Lord Voldemort. I don't know where he's living, but I do know that he's now a full-time Death Eater."

"Fenrir should swallow his pride and join ye, m'Alpha," interjected Patrick gruffly.

Orion shot him a surprised glance. "You would like Greyback to become part of this community? I thought you didn't like him-"

"He has many faults," replied Patrick briskly, piercing him with his eyes, "but he cherishes the wolf in him, rightly taking pride in what he is. Because of this, he's one of the most powerful werewolves, since he completely embraces his inner wolf, and not many are able to do that." His gaze momentarily flickered to Remus, before he continued, "Fenrir was not always unrestrained and crazed like he's at present. The stint he spent in Azkaban, affected by Dementors but most importantly negatively affected because he was away from his pack, severely damaged his inner wolf, making him savagely wild. And he suffered much because his mate-"

"Patrick," growled Remus, shooting him an angry and menacing glance.

"Ye haven't told him, m'Alpha?" said Patrick, arching an eyebrow in all innocence, which didn't fool Orion for a second. "He's like a son to ye, so ye have told me, at least. Yet, you didn't tell him that-"

"You're outstepping your boundaries, Beta," snarled Remus, piercing Patrick with narrowed eyes glinting with fury.

"Forgive me, m'Alpha," said Patrick in a low voice, lowering his head.

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline. He had never seen something like this, and much less Remus behaving like that. It was certain that Remus had changed much due to all the time he had spent being an alpha for so many werewolves, while completely embracing the dark nature of his creature. He guessed that pack dynamics worked like this between an alpha and his pack members. And it thoroughly intrigued him.

"What is Connolly talking about?" he said carefully, staring at Remus.

"Nothing," snapped Remus fiercely, shooting a heavy glance filled with threatening warnings at the other werewolf. "You can leave us, Patrick."

"Aye, m'Alpha," said Patrick, instantly standing up. He inclined on a partially bent knee, bowing at Remus, before he glanced at Orion, his lips curving. "See ye soon, Black. And keep the money flowing in."

"Sure," snorted Orion, with a roll of his eyes. "I'll always maintain you cozily comfortable, Connolly. Don't worry about that."

"I won't," said Patrick, baring his teeth in a wide, feral smile.

After the werewolf swiftly stalked out of the lodge, Orion turned back to gaze intently at Remus. "What aren't you telling me?"

Remus heavily sighed, and he flicked his wand. Two tumblers and a bottle filled with a golden liquid came shooting out from the kitchen, and he served them the drinks. He handed one tumbler to Orion, and Orion took a long sip, discovering that it was butterbeer and feeling a bit disappointed. He had got used to drinking strong wizarding alcoholic beverages during his after-lessons periods with Grindelwald. But he knew for a fact that Remus would frown disapprovingly at him if he asked for firewhiskey. Never mind that he would be turning seventeen during the summer, the werewolf could still be ridiculously overprotective at times.

"Patrick shouldn't have said anything," said Remus quietly, after settling down his tumbler on the low table before them. "It's not important, cub. And it's truly something I don't think you should know yet. You're still too young."

Orion arched an eyebrow, a bit perplexed. Remus had just slipped back to gentle wizard mode, it seemed. And now secretive as well, to boot.

"I'm old enough to be told about anything," he said, eyeing him closely. "And I'm married to Voldemort, Remus, there's little that can shock me. I'm not an innocent schoolboy."

"You aren't," agreed Remus with a hint of regretful dejection, "much to my consternation."

Orion held back a roll of his eyes, and he pressed on softly, "Come on, Remus. Tell me what Patrick wanted me to know. You can trust me."

"I know," said Remus firmly. "Regardless, it isn't something I wish to disclose. You have enough on your mind."

Orion sighed with resignation, and said dismissively, "Very well, as you will."

After a brief stretch of silence, Remus intently observed him, and asked, "Something has happened to you, hasn't it?"

"What do you mean?" said Orion, staring at him with a blank expression on his face. He scoffed, and added mockingly, "You mean finding out that Barty Crouch Jr. has really been Nymphadora Tonks since last year? Or perhaps having to whisk her away from Voldemort's Manor, then having to force the truth out of her –without harming her, don't worry. Or you mean-"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," interrupted Remus quietly, his gaze piercing and searching. "Something personal happened to you." A small, forlorn smile broke on his face. "I could always read past your father's masks, you know? Sirius always appeared to be strong, cool, mischievous, and devilish. But I could see through it, when he felt down. When he escaped from his home and felt he had nowhere to go, before James invited him to live with the Potters. Or when Regulus took the Dark Mark and Sirius was frantically worried about him, but he didn't want to show it." His expression became somber, and he added, "Or when he became estranged from Regulus for a year and some months after leaving his home, missing him terribly, just to find out in the newspapers that his little brother had been brutally killed. He acted indifferent, but I could tell he blamed himself for not protecting Regulus and for having abandoned him when he left his home. I saw him clutching a picture of Regulus, sobbing with wrecking grief and despair. But with us, he never showed when he was in pain. He was always a cheerful trickster. He would always say he was 'as jolly as a pixie'."

"Nothing remotely like that has happened to me," said Orion tightly, not liking to remember that he owed the death of one more relative to Voldemort; that of an uncle he would never know. "I'm fine."

Remus ruefully smiled at him. "And you always say you're 'fine', when you're not."

"What do you want to know?" interjected Orion tiredly, gazing back at him.

"I want you to tell me what happened to you," replied Remus calmly. "What is paining you."

"Nothing important," said Orion dismissively. "I simply had a quarrel with Voldemort."

"And perhaps he said or did something which hurt you?" interjected Remus, worriedly eyeing him closely.

"I told him I loved him," said Orion flatly, with a hint of anger directed at the werewolf for persisting in digging in.

"Ah, I see," murmured Remus quietly, gazing at him. "And what did he reply to that?"

Orion sneered, "What do you think he said? It was certainly not 'I love you too'!"

"Hmm," said Remus, steepling his fingers together on his lap, while he comfortably leaned back on his sofa, his gaze never breaking away from Orion's. "Do you remember all my objections when you decided to become Voldemort's spouse?"

"Vividly."

"I have to admit," said Remus calmly, "that I was mistaken."

Orion blinked at him, utterly befuddled. "Meaning?"

"I still don't like the wizard," said Remus quietly. "I would have preferred someone better for you; certainly not a ruthless and merciless murderer like him. But I've been meeting him frequently at the Dark Allies gatherings, and I think I understand him better now. He's a very complex wizard, prone to never show or say what he's really thinking or feeling, accustomed to have his orders instantly obeyed, used to be domineering and controlling without opposition, masking everything under a façade of collected coolness and indifferent impassivity, and -most importantly of all- he's very aggressively offensive when he feels threatened by someone or something he doesn't understand. And this perceived weakness and loss of control frightens him terribly, thus, he cruelly lashes out."

A small smile curved his lips, and he added, "I wouldn't cope if I was the spouse of someone like him. I think he would break me eventually, due to sorrow, despair and frustration. Nevertheless, whatever he told you, whatever his reaction was when you told him you loved him, I remember clearly the words he said to you during your bonding ceremony. Neither of you mentioned love or affection; both of you were very careful in your vows. Regardless, I didn't see a Dark Lord in him that day, I saw a wizard who probably loves you but doesn't know it. He'll possibly never understand it if faced with his own affection for you, and he'll probably never admit it to himself or to you. Nonetheless, that's what I saw in him that day, and it's what I still see whenever he mentions you during the Dark Allies meetings. And that's why I never again told you that you had made a mistake when becoming his spouse."

After a long stretch of silence, Orion finally said tonelessly, "Even if I believed that you could be right - and trust me, I can't because I don't see it, not after what he said to me- it wouldn't change the fact that I need more. If he can't understand or accept what he feels for me, and if he can't openly express it, it's useless to me. It's like saying nothing at all. I need confirmation, Remus, not my own speculations about what he truly feels. And as you have admitted yourself, he'll possibly never be able to have, comprehend, or admit his own emotions – and that's not enough for me. I admit that he told me from the start that he didn't do fluff or romance, but that's not what I want from him, not always, at least. The problem is that I came to love him, and that changed everything, because I want to be loved back, openly. Someone adviced me to enjoy being loved while I can, before... before the war changes me and I stop caring about such things as love. That's why I feel that what Voldemort is giving me isn't enough."

"I understand," said Remus quietly, with a grave expression on his face. "So if you cannot get this from him, what do you expect to do? Won't you help him realize and confront his own feelings-"

"No," snapped Orion angrily. "What – do you want me in a vulnerable position just so that he can crush me again? Never. I'm not a self-destructive fool. It was contempt what I saw in his eyes when I told him I loved him. And I don't want to see that, ever again. Whatever his conflicts are, they are his problem, not mine. I won't risk it again. As for what will I do…" He smirked at him. "It's very simple. I'll get from others what he cannot give me."

Remus' eyebrow shot upwards, and he asked sternly, "You're planning on being with others whilst you're Voldemort's spouse?"

"I'm planning on having lovers," said Orion, smirking with deep satisfaction.

Remus sadly shook his head. "You'll only end up hurting him and yourself. That's not the way to fix your relationship with him. That's escaping from your marital problems and worsening the situation-"

"He's fine with it," scoffed Orion mordantly. "What's more, he wants to share lovers, Remus. He wants to have threesomes, for Merlin's sake!"

"That's utterly foolish," said Remus curtly, piercing him with his eyes. "I don't think he truly wants that and you'll find yourself regretting it-"

"I followed friends' advice once," interrupted Orion sharply, "and it was a terrible mistake. I won't do it again. I know how his mind works, and I'm the only one who understands the dynamics of our relationship. I'll proceed with my plans and that's it. I don't need your advice, thanks. I know what I'm doing."

"I don't think you do, cub," said Remus quietly, leveling him with a stern gaze. "I think you're making a huge mistake-"

"I don't want to discuss it further," said Orion crisply, instantly standing up. "I appreciate that you're trying to help me, but it's unnecessary."

"At least consider what I've told you," interjected Remus, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I will," said Orion dismissively.

He shook his head, not wanting to think about Voldemort, since he had already made up his mind and he wasn't going to change his decision. Voldemort's words and reaction had deeply hurt him, and he wouldn't serve himself on a platter just to be crushed again. He would give the wizard what he had asked for, acting as if their marriage was nothing more than a convenient political union of power, allies and bloodlines, with the plus of having hot sex whenever they felt like it.

Swiftly, he pulled out of his thoughts, realizing that he should get going since he still had to get back to Hogwarts, and since he had already covered some of the issues he had wanted to discuss with Remus.

He fondly smiled at the werewolf, and said warmly, "I have to leave, but it was great to see you after so long. I missed you."

"I missed you too, cub," said Remus, smiling at him while he ruffled Orion's hair. "Come back whenever you can."

"Will do," said Orion, shooting him a smirk. "Oh, and do take care of Nymphadora, and persuade her to change sides. You'll be greatly easing matters for me if you accomplish it."

"I'll try," said Remus gravely, piercing him with his eyes. "But I'll still protect her if you decided to-"

"Let's not cross that bridge until we're there," interrupted Orion dismissively. "Many things could change by then." He plucked out a wand from his robes, handing it to the werewolf, and added, "This is the wand Nymphadora was carrying. Give it to her if you feel it's safe to do so. But remember, she mustn't leave this place and she mustn't communicate with anyone from the outside."

"Very well," said Remus with a deep sigh, pocketing the wand in his jacket.

Orion smiled, and patted him on the back. "Take care, Remus."

"You too, my cub."

Orion nodded and swiftly opened the front door. He glanced at the werewolf over his shoulder, and said quietly, "Come to Black Manor on Sunday morning. We'll be either celebrating or having a funeral. But either way, I would greatly appreciate if you could be there."

"A funeral?" whispered Remus, his expression holding a hint of relief battling against grief and sorrow. "You'll finally burry your father's body? It's a wise decision, cub. I was starting to worry about your insistence on keeping it uselessly alive. It's hard, but the death of a loved one has to be accepted-"

"A funeral or a celebration," said Orion pointedly. "There's hope, still."

Remus frowned at him, looking deeply troubled and concerned about him. "My cub, a Dementor's Kiss can't be-"

"I'll expect you," interrupted Orion. "Please be there."

"I will," said Remus, nodding at him, though he seemed even more worried than before.

But Orion simply beamed a smile at him, before he hastily left the lodge and closed the door behind him.

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Under the dark skies scattered with sparkling stars, Orion was deeply absorbed in his own thoughts regarding all that he had learned that night, and most particularly wondering what Remus hadn't told him under the excuse that he was 'too young'. He had taken a pebbled path, following it towards the warded fence which enclosed Lycaon, in order to use the portkey Draco had given him to return to Malfoy Manor.

He wasn't inspecting the village this time, but rather busy going through his conversation with the werewolves. There was much he would need to discuss with Remus about the future plans for the war and the post-war era, if he survived. And he realized that he would have to learn much more about werewolves and how the packs functioned, as well as about wizarding vampires like the Zravens. He would need to know in order to plan how the wizarding world should be led and regulated in the future, so that everyone –wizards and creatures- could be satisfied and live in peace.

With his ambitious aim to become the Vindico, he would not only be concerned about what to do regarding the balance between the Sources and the matter of blood purity, muggles and muggleborns, but he would also need to discover how creatures fit in the grand scheme of things.

Abruptly, he felt a hand grabbing his neck from behind, while a low, gruff voice said into his ear, "Are you lost again, wizard?"

"Merlin, Circe, and Morgana!" yelped Orion startled, though he instantly recognized the voice. "Must you always ambush me, Connolly?"

The werewolf chuckled, the sound rumbling and harsh, and Orion stiffened in the shadowy darkness when he felt the man nuzzling his neck while deeply sniffing him.

"What the hell are you doing?" snapped Orion angrily, trying to turn around and failing when the werewolf tightly clutched his shoulders from behind.

"Smelling ye," said Patrick flatly, harshly keeping him in place while he roughly nuzzled Orion's neck, taking in deep breaths.

Orion was about to whip out his wand and curse the annoying werewolf into the next century, when Patrick brusquely released him and stepped around to tower in front of him.

"Just like I thought," said Patrick gruffly, piercing him with narrowed amber eyes. "I caught a whiff of strange dark magic in ye the first time, but also of something else." His eyes narrowed further, and he added accusingly, "Ye have creature blood in ye."

"Yes," said Orion, quirking an eyebrow impassively. "I have vampire blood. You must know this already, since I told the Dark Allies that I had been given Zraven blood, and Remus knows this too."

Patrick bared his teeth, and snarled, "I don't like blood-suckers."

"I'm not a vampire myself," interjected Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. "And you'll do well to remember that the Zravens are my allies and, therefore, yours as well."

The werewolf's eyebrow, marred by the scar, twitched with annoyance, but he grabbed Orion's forearm, and said briskly, "Come, there's something I wanna show ye."

Without giving Orion a chance to voice his complains, Patrick roughly pulled him along a pebbled path, while demanding, "Did m'Alpha tell ye?"

"You mean about the thing he didn't allow you to say?" said Orion intrigued. Patrick sharply nodded, and Orion huffed with indignation. "No, Remus said that I was 'too young' to know about it."

Patrick snorted, side-glancing at him, while Orion tried to keep up with his long strides. "Aye, ye're still a cub to his eyes."

"Are you going to tell me, then?" interjected Orion impatiently.

"No," said Patrick harshly, "that's for m'Alpha to tell, not I."

"Then where are you taking me?" demanded Orion sharply.

Patrick shot him a feral smirk, and sneered, "Since ye're our ally, ye need to understand a few things about us. Not that I like to disclose wolf matters to a wizard. Alas, it can't be helped."

The werewolf stopped short in his tracks, and roughly pulled Orion to stand in front of him, pressing Orion's back against his nude chest, and gripping Orion's face so that Orion was forced to look forward. "This is what I wanted ye to see. Do ye understand what it is?"

Orion blinked in the darkness, his sight becoming used to it while he gazed at the scene dimly lit by flickering fires. They were standing in front of the wooden structure in the middle of the village. And now he could distinguish all the details. It was a roofed enclosure, its grounds completely covered by thick furs, and on them, a sea of entangled or huddled bodies. Indeed, it was people who laid there; some nestled together deeply asleep, others resting while spooning another, and others – to his embarrassment- were moaning and grunting, caressing their partner while coupling. Their age varied, but there weren't any children, there were both females and males, and some were scantily dressed while others were naked and covered by furs.

"Er…" said Orion uncomfortably. "What is this? Why do they sleep here if there are lodges?"

"This is Lycaon's Lair," replied Patrick, with a low, rumbling chuckle. "This is how a pack comes together at night. True, we built logdes for ourselves, to have independent homes. It was m'Alpha's idea to build lodges, so that those who wanted could sleep in their lodge if they wished too. Some still, erroneously, want to keep up the pretense of civilized manners. But it goes against the wolf." He shot an arm over Orion's shoulder, pointing ahead, and added gruffly, "This is how a pack should lay at night. Do you feel it – what brings and binds us together?"

"Yes," whispered Orion mesmerized, while he gazed at the mass of undulating bodies.

Indeed, he felt it; a sense of warm belonging between them, of unabashed and instinctual desire to be together, huddled and content, giving way to the nature of their creatures.

"This is what's natural for us," said Patrick in a low, rumbling voice. "Fenrir always understood this, and m'Alpha also does, now."

"How did you live with Greyback?" asked Orion with curiosity, shifting to side so that he could see Patrick's face, dimly lit by the nearby fires.

"We never had something like this," replied Patrick gruffly, piercing him with his amber eyes. "We didn't stay long in one place. We usually had to move from forest to forest, or from cave to cave, since there were always Ministry officials on the hunt, with the intention of forcing us to register as werewolves." His lips curled angrily, baring his teeth. "But Fenrir never allowed that to happen. He protected us from being tagged and monitored as if we were wild beast that had to be controlled and neuterized."

"And are you satisfied with what Remus has done here?" inquired Orion, intently observing him. "This is what could be considered as 'civilized', at complete opposites of how Greyback made his pack live."

"Aye, of course I'm satisfied with m'Alpha," said Patrick briskly. "He has given us a permanent place to call home. The wolf in us is a nomad, but our human part yearns for stability. With Fenrir, we were forced by circumstances to always keep on the move, but now we have both things. We have a Lair and we have a home which is heavily protected by wards, so that Ministry officials can't easily find us or attack us without warning. Each of us can enjoy what is preferred: civilized individuality by having our own lodges or to follow our creature's natural wildness by coming together at the Lair." He pierced him with his amber eyes, and added gruffly, "Fenrir would have also liked to give us something like this; it was his plan for the future. A vision he shared with many of us, m'Alpha included. But Fenrir didn't have the means for it."

"You mean that he didn't have the money to found and maintain a village like Lycaon."

"Exactly," said Patrick brusquely, gazing at him. "M'Alpha could give us this because he has yer support; the backing of yer money." He narrowed his eyes, and added sharply, "If ye stop funding us, we would lose this-"

"I won't stop funding you," interrupted Orion vehemently. "I already told you that. I approve of what Remus has done, and what he wants for your kind. And he'll always count with my support."

"Good," said Patrick gruffly.

Orion pierced him with his eyes, and said quietly, "By the way you speak about Greyback, I can tell that you respected him-"

"I still do," interrupted Patrick sharply.

"Then what changed?" demanded Orion, searchingly staring at him. "You were his Beta, but you left him to join Remus. Why?"

"Fenrir and I didn't see eye-to-eye in some matters," replied Patrick flatly. "He still believed that violence was the answer, while m'Alpha prefers to use diplomacy first, by allying himself with someone like ye, and violence later, for when the war truly erupts. Furthermore, I never approved when Fenrir liked to attack little children to turn 'em into werewolves when they're young, to make them loyal to him. So when I heard the rumors within my pack that there was an Alpha with the intention of building a permanent home for werewolves, and with the support of the Boy-Who-Lived, I left Fenrir and came here. Mind ye, I'm no traitor. I told him first, and he allowed me to leave." Abruptly, he tightly clutched Orion's chin, and added fiercely, "Nevertheless, Fenrir is still a great Alpha, even if he doesn't have a pack anymore, and even if he isn't as stable as he once was. It's imperative that Fenrir is saved, Black. Us, werewolves, will need him in the future."

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline, before he narrowed his eyes at him, and snapped sharply, "You have Remus. He's your Alpha. Why would you need a crazed, viciously violent werewolf such as Greyback-"

"Ye ignorant wizard," said Patrick with a harsh chuckle. "Whether m'Alpha likes it or not, Fenrir is part of us. Werewolves don't turn against their Sire, and many here were bitten by him. We long for him, Black. We need him and want him back. Fenrir can be brought back into what he was before being imprisoned in Azkaban. His wolf would help him with that if he became part of us; if he lived here, in Lycaon, with many of his former pack members and with the new packs m'Alpha joined us with."

"So that's what you want – to have Greyback here with you?" interjected Orion, scrutinizing him. "I'll be straight with you, I've always immensely disliked Greyback, but I know that he's a powerful wizard. And if what you say is true –that he can become sane and more stable- then I would agree with your wish. But answer me this, why have you told me all of this? There's little I can do about it. It seems to me that it's a matter to be discussed and decided by the pack, and by Remus-"

"Precisely," interrupted Patrick, his lips curling with satisfaction. "It's m'Alpha's decision to offer Fenrir a place with us. That's how you can help, because m'Alpha won't listen to me regarding Fenrir, since he also dislikes him. No, I should better say that m'Alpha hates Fenrir. That's what needs to be changed. And I saw how m'Alpha listens to you, and how you listen to him. There's trust and deep affection between ye, so ye can convince him to consider accepting Fenrir in Lycaon."

"And would Greyback accept?" said Orion, frowning at him.

"I think he would," replied Patrick gruffly. "It's not good for him to be separate from his pack. A lone werewolf suffers very much, Black. It isn't doing Fenrir any good, just like it didn't do him any good to be in Azkaban, away from his pack, for so long. And trust me, Fenrir knows this. Thus, he would come to Lycaon if m'Alpha offered it."

Orion heavily sighed and carded his fingers through his hair. "Fine, I'll think about it. But to be honest, I don't think I can influence Remus on this matter. I know perfectly well that Remus hates him, since Greyback was the one who bit and turned him when Remus was just a ten-year-old boy. I don't see how Remus could forgive-"

"It's not a matter of forgiveness but of acceptance," interrupted Patrick sharply. "Aye, Fenrir shouldn't have turned m'Alpha when he was so young. Werewolves usually turn adults, people who are seventeen or older, since the bitten wizard or muggle should be mature and physically strong enough to endure the transformations, without fighting against it and without unnecessarily suffering. Nevertheless, it happened, and m'Alpha should accept his Sire, not hate him. It's doing great damage to both of 'em, since it goes against the nature of their wolves."

"Alright," said Orion tiredly. "I understand what you've told me, and I'll discuss the matter with Remus soon. But don't expect too much. I won't press him to change his mind if he truly doesn't want to." He narrowed his eyes at him, and added suspiciously, "And I think that there's much more that you aren't telling me."

"Of course there is," interjected Patrick, shooting at him a feral smirk. "But I'm not about to disclose pack matters to ye, Black."

"Fine, I'll make sure to find out about it, anyway," said Orion dismissively. "Now, I bid you farewell, Connolly. I have to get back to Hogwarts."

"Very well, Black," said Patrick gruffly, "scamper away. I'll see ye soon, I wager."

"Hopefully not too soon," tiredly grumbled Orion under his breath, while he turned on his heels and left the werewolf's presence without any further words.

He would think about werewolves, vampires and all the rest when he had the time for it. It had been an excruciatingly long, exhausting day, and he had to concentrate on his plans for tomorrow.

Orion continued along the pebbled path and cursed under his breath, worriedly carding his fingers through his hair. Tomorrow he would need to use the Resurrection Stone but he had completely failed in controlling it today - he had almost killed Draco. He could only hope that he wouldn't attempt to suck any of the souls of the Necromancers in the Guild, and that the Resurrection Stone wouldn't cause too much trouble when he confronted Cadmus, for he needed the Stone for that very same purpose. His plan for defeating the Dementor and saving his father's soul depended on the Resurrection Stone. There was no way out of it; he would have to use it.

With a deep, troubled sigh, Orion plucked out the glass figurine of the dancing couple from his pocket, and he whispered, "Malfoy Manor."

In a swirling mesh of colors, a pull around his navel, and a tightening of space, he portkeyed away from Lycaon, his mind busily reviewing his plans for the following day, when he would, at last, confront Cadmus. Either dying or losing his soul in the attempt, or finally having his father back with him in the mortal plane.


	11. To confront a Dementor

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Hello everyone! I'm updating at last *impishly grins*. Sorry for taking so long but I was very busy with my finals, and then holidays came up and I had to travel with my family and etc… so I didn't have much time on my hands, and I began writing a fic for another fandom to boot… so… er… well, sorry for taking so long but I'm definitely continuing this fic and I have every intention of completing it. So if this long wait happens again don't fear, because it only means that I was busy, but nothing else! *winks*. Anyway, I'm posting this chapter in two parts because it's really long and I still haven't finished writing it, and I wanted to give you something in the meanwhile. Nevertheless, I hope to post the second part in two or three days at most.

So thanks to all of those who are still reading this fic and reviewing it, and I hope you enjoy the next chapters, since not much happens in this one, it just sets the scene. And happy 2009!

Ah, and you'll find the translations of some phrases at the end of the chapter.

Dunkelheit= Darkness, in German.

**NOTE: **I uploaded more pics in the website for the Black Heir yahoo group. They're mixed with the old ones in the 'character album'. And finally, I found one which has become my official pic for Orion, since that's the face I would imagine for him. This pic of Orion is in the 'home' page of the yahoo group. There's also a pic for Patrick Connolly, as well as a really nice one for young Lily Evans, to name a few. And there're two new pics in the 'Durmstrang album'. I hope you like them!

* * *

**Chapter 11****  
**

It was late Saturday evening, and Orion was standing in the middle of the main sitting room of Potter Manor. He was clothed in his Durmstrang dark crimson uniform, the short cape had long ago been discarded, and he was wearing the Gaunt ring on one of his fingers. He was heavily breathing, his body ached with lingering pain, the coldness around him seemed to seep into his very bones, and his mind was draped in a numb veil of hazy detachment.

Orion shuddered and straightened up, his mesmerized gaze of glowing blackness still observing the form in front of him with immense longing. The wizard's body was glowing in an uneven whiteness, like a fiery, blazing fire in the midst of cold darkness. Orion yearned for the warmth he perceived coming from the wizard; he hungered for it. He took a shaky step forward, but immediately stopped when Grindelwald aimed his wand at him one more time, with a sadistic smirk promising endless pain.

He shivered again, struggling against his desire and consuming hunger, and he tiredly closed his all-black eyes, slowly drawing out a deep breath. He had been practicing with Grindelwald during the whole day, and he was exhausted and weary.

After leaving Lycaon, he had returned to Hogwarts almost at dawn, just to get all the things he needed from his dorm and from Slytherin's private quarters in the Chamber of Secrets. Then, he had promptly flooed to Durmstrang from Dumbledore's empty office, just like on any other Saturday morning. But he had decided to skip classes at Durmstrang and spend the day in Potter Manor, to practice with the Resurrection Stone as much as he could, before going to the Guild.

The first time he had worn the Gaunt ring during this practice session, he had felt exactly like the previous day when he had seen Draco. He had been inevitably drawn to Grindelwald, and the wizard –though warned about what had happened between Draco and him- had been too startled when he had jumped at him, meshing their mouths together. Nevertheless, Grindelwald had promptly blasted him away with a violent, black whirlpool of his unique dark magic. Then, haggardly breathing, the wizard had wasted no time in crucioing him until the pain made his senses cut through the foggy numbness of his mind.

After that, the hours passed by in the same manner. Orion getting ravaged by pain when attempting to take a hold of Grindelwald to kiss him, and the wizard fighting him back and enjoying the perks of cursing him until the piercing pain made him come back to himself.

Nevertheless, throughout the ten hours of their practice session, Orion had slowly been able to become more aware of what he was doing each time he was cursed and propelled away by Grindelwald. Now, gazing at the wizard's glowing form, he felt the hunger and the need, but not as consuming as before, and never as intense as what he had felt with Draco.

The first time he had worn the Gaunt ring in Grindelwald's presence, Orion had seen the wizard's soul infusing its body in a glow, and he had wanted to consume the wizard, but the need hadn't been as ravaging as what he had felt with Draco. And he had been able to steadily and progressively control himself. Orion thought that it was easier for him to do so with Grindelwald because the wizard's soul didn't feel as enticing as Draco's. Indeed, as he now gazed at Grindelwald, he could see that the whitish glow infusing the wizard's body wasn't the pure, untarnished, intense whiteness of Draco's. Instead, the whitish glow of Grindelwald's soul was uneven and darkened in several places. It was clear to him that it could only mean that Grindelwald had done some things to himself, probably undergone some dark ritual or having done something which tarnished his soul.

"Have you had enough, mein junge? Can you control yourself now, or should I crucio you again?"

Orion snapped open his all-black eyes, intently gazed at the glowing wizard in front of him, and said in a voice hoarse due to past screams of pain, "I can control myself better." He shivered and clasped his arms around himself, muttering in a low voice, "I still feel cold, and I still feel the hunger… an emptiness inside me which wants to be filled by your soul… but I won't attack you again, Gellert. Practicing today has helped me."

"Gut," said Grindelwald, with a sharp nod of his head while he lowered the wand he was clutching – Orion's Phoenix wand. "Do you want to keep practicing or-"

"No," interrupted Orion, "this is good enough, and it's getting late. Loki must be already waiting for me at the outskirts of Sølvanghøj. I have to get going."

Swiftly, he took off the Gaunt ring and pocketed it. The change was instantaneous; he felt all coldness rushing away from him, his mind was plunged back into its own awareness, he no longer felt numbness or detachment, his Necromantic powers calmly settled inside him, and the glowing blackness of his eyes seeped away, leaving his eyes to be naturally emerald green.

Tiredly, Orion briefly closed his eyes and heavily exhaled. He opened them again when he felt a hand reassuringly squeezing his shoulder, and he gazed up at Grindelwald.

"Dunkelheit be with you, mein junge," said the old wizard, his lips curling into a small half-smile. "I'm fully confident that you'll succeed." He grabbed Orion's chin, lifting it, and added with a wide smirk, "Make me proud and show them what a Vindico candidate can do."

Orion shot him a small smile and nodded. As always, he had told Grindelwald everything that had happened. The old wizard knew that he would be confronting Cadmus, that the Guild's Necromancers would be watching, and that he would try to resurrect his father. He had told his mentor as much as he could about the Guild. Given the magical contract he had signed with the Necro Masters, he couldn't disclose any relevant information about the Guild and what he had done when he had visited them on several occasions. But he had told Grindelwald as much as he could, and he knew that the wizard had been able to piece it all together. Thus, the wizard had realized that he had signed a contract with the Guild in order to use one of their Gates, in exchange of eventually undergoing a period of training, with the possibility of becoming one of them.

"Thanks Gellert, I will," said Orion, tiredly grinning at him. "I'll see you tomorrow - hopefully."

Grindelwald mutely nodded and released his chin, and Orion grabbed the black cloak he had perched on a chair, quickly clasping it around himself. Then, he flung over one shoulder the strap of his schoolbag, which contained all the things he had packed for his confrontation with Cadmus.

And without another word, he closed his eyes and instantly apparated to Black Manor. As soon as his feet landed on the marble floor of the main hall, Orion called, "Dobby!"

With a 'pop', the house-elf appeared before him, eagerly rocking on his feet, gazing up at him with large eyes. "Master Orion called Dobby? How can Dobby help Master, sir?"

Orion observed the weird house-elf with fondness. He dearly thanked Narcissa for having temporarily given him Dobby a long while ago, when Severus had become his guardian after Lucius had been imprisoned, and after his stint with the Dursleys had ended when he had unwittingly killed Vernon and Voldemort had killed Petunia and Dudley. Narcissa had given him Dobby so that the house-elf could stay at Black Manor, taking care of his father's body. Though, he was certain that Narcissa had been more than glad to get rid of the wayward house-elf.

"Bring me my father's body, please," he said hastily.

Dobby blinked, puzzled, before instantly obeying and snapping his fingers.

Immediately, a robed body popped in front of them, hovering in mid air, as if resting on an invisible bed. And Orion inspected his father's body closely, gently caressing a long, black lock of hair. It had been a while since he had visited his father's bedroom in Black Manor, but he could see now that Dobby had taken excellent care of him with the use of life-sustaining potions. Sirius' body was healthily lean, the handsome face was pale but not gaunt or thin, his wavy hair was trimmed at shoulder-length, and he sported a short, trimmed beard.

Satisfied, Orion gently wrapped his arms around his father's body and summarily casted a disillusionment and light-weight charm on him. He glanced at Dobby, and said quietly, "You can return to Malfoy Manor, Dobby. Tell your Mistress that I won't need your services any longer, and that I thank her-"

"Dobby will be a good house-elf, Master!" wailed Dobby beseechingly, eyeing him with watery eyes while his ears frantically bobbed. "I is helping Master Orion, sir. Dobby wants to stay here to attend to Master's father." He frantically clutched his hands, glancing around wildly as if looking for something. "Dobby punish himself if Master isn't happy with Dobby-"

"No, don't do that," interrupted Orion hastily. "I'm happy with you, Dobby." He deeply sighed, and added, "Fine, stay with us if you want that. I'm sure I'll find something for you to do. You can be my father's personal house-elf if I manage to resurrect him, okay?"

"Master is resurrecting his father?" said Dobby in awed wonder, gazing at him with huge, wide eyes.

"Yes, I'll attempt it," replied Orion tersely.

"Oh, I is always known that Master is a great wizard!" gushed out Dobby excitedly. "Master is a good, nice wizard, trying to give life to loved father, even if Master is dark, and-"

"Yes, yes, thank you," interjected Orion dismissively. "Now, stay here. I'll be back in a few hours, I hope."

"Yes, Master Orion, sir," said Dobby eagerly, bobbing his ears. "I is staying here with Master and taking good care of Master and his father, sir."

Orion warmly smiled at him. "Very well, thank you."

Then, without any further ado, he tightened his clutch around the invisible body of his father, and he promptly grabbed some floo powder from the mantelpiece of the nearest fireplace.

He entered the fireplace, flung the powder into it, and said clearly, "Headmaster's office, Durmstrang!"

With an engulfing blaze of green flames, he was thrown into a vertiginous rushing through space, before it suddenly halted.

Coughing and dizzy, Orion stumbled out of the fireplace, grumbling under his breath since he didn't like flooing, he much preferred apparating. Alas, one couldn't apparate into Bornholm Island, and he was lucky enough that his Headmaster allowed him unrestricted use of his floo connection.

He straightened up, wandlessly dusted off the soot from his cloak, and clutched his father against his chest. Though he stopped short in his tracks when he saw Vagnarov standing up in front of him, the old man's gaze intently inspecting him before flickering to glance at the disillusioned body he was carrying.

"Ah, I see," murmured Vagnarov quietly. "This is why you didn't attend your classes today. Your professors were worried, and your friends asked about you." He pierced him with his eyes, and muttered, "You're doing it today?"

Orion bore his eyes into the old ones of his Headmaster, and said firmly, without preambles, "Yes."

"And you're going to the Guild," said Vagnarov with a deep sigh. "Now I understand why Durmstrang's wards detected Mr. Njord leaving the school. I surmise that he's waiting to take you to the Guild."

"He is," said Orion, eyeing him carefully. "The time has come, Vulcan. I will no longer postpone it. I have all the things and knowledge I need in order to truly attempt it."

"Are you sure you do?" interjected Vagnarov sternly, gazing at him with a hint of concern. "A Dementor has never been killed before-"

"True," interrupted Orion calmly, "but I know what could kill one. I've learned a lot of things from Cadmus' journal, and thanks to it, I know how I can kill him." He widely smirked at him, and plucked out the Gaunt ring from his pocket, showing it to him. "And I unblocked the Resurrection Stone."

"You mean that it isn't one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes any more," said Vagnarov, shooting him a knowing glance. "Valois told me about the horcruxes, my child."

"Sebastien had no right," snapped Orion angrily, narrowing his eyes at him. "He told me that only Komorov and he knew about the horcruxes, since they are the new leaders of the Aux. I didn't expect him to betray me by telling you-"

"Sebastien told me recently while we were discussing you and the future of the Aux Atrum," interjected Vagnarov sternly. "He told me, in secrecy, about the conversation he had with you. His aim wasn't to betray you, but to discuss matters with me, seeking guidance, since he knows that you're much closer to me than to any other Aux Atrum. Disclosing to me the conversation he had with you was risky for him. He didn't tell anyone else. And he only confided in me because he knows that you trust me and that I'm trying to help you. He's on your side, my boy. We both want to help you." He shot him a small smile, adding quietly, "Furthermore, I'm going to take the secret to the grave - literally."

Orion shifted his weight from one leg to the other, feeling uncomfortable and awkward by being reminded of his Headmaster's imminent, natural death. He pushed aside any pang of grief or sorrow, and he was about to say something when Vagnarov took a step forward, gazing intently at the Gaunt ring Orion was still holding up. The wizard didn't touch it, though there was an excited and eager glint in the old man's eyes.

"The Hallow is truly itself now," said the old wizard in a low, quite voice, his mesmerized gaze still focused on the Gaunt ring. "With all its powers unrestrained… What I would give to feel it…" He stretched out a hand to touch it, but suddenly halted and quickly withdrew his hand, while his jaw clenched. "Yes… so powerful yet so dangerous." He pierced Orion with his eyes and arched an inquiring eyebrow. "The Stone isn't fractured. You didn't destroy the horcrux, yet it isn't a horcrux anymore. What did you do? How did you free the Stone?"

Orion regarded him carefully, before he decided that he lost nothing by being honest. Furthermore, the old man had proved repeatedly to be worthy of his trust, to some degree. "I transferred the piece of soul into a new receptacle."

Vagnarov's eyes slightly widened. "How?"

"I used some spells I learned from Cadmus' journal," replied Orion dismissively, "and from a parsel book." He bore his eyes into his, and added purposefully, "A parsel book which was one of the two books that were given to me by the Aux when I was ten years old. Given to me by my -and Draco's- childhood tutor Ragnarok, who got them from Gregorovicht. Remember them? You were their leader back then-"

"Yes, I remember... " muttered Vagnarov, before he changed subjects. "The spirits will be pleased to know that you returned the Resurrection Stone to its true state." He pierced him with his eyes, and added quietly, "But they won't be happy to know that you didn't destroy the Dark Lord's piece of soul."

"I don't care," said Orion with a shrug of his shoulders, letting slide that the old man didn't want to discuss Ragnarok's actions in his life, and also Draco's for that matter. And it was a matter which still occasionally made him pensively speculate. Nevertheless, he let it drop, and continued with the issue-at-hand. "Tell the spirits what I did. They will find out eventually, anyway. And there's nothing they can do."

"Yes, I will them," interjected Vagnarov quietly. "They should know that you managed to free the Stone. It's one more proof that you're a Vindico candidate with unprecedented chances of succeeding." He pierced him with his eyes, and added sternly, "Yes, the Stone will help you against Cadmus, but I think you should postpone the confrontation with him. Your chances of surviving are still very slight, not to mention that even if you manage to avoid being Kissed, there's much more that the Dementor could do to you. I don't doubt that you'll be able to defend yourself. I know you've become powerful in your dark magic and Necromantic abilities. Regardless, the chances are that he'll damage you permanently. A Dementor's Kiss isn't the only thing you should worry about. Cadmus can hurt you in other ways, Orion. Even you if succeed in pulling out your father's soul, you might not survive the confrontation unscathed or with a complete soul."

"I know," said Orion calmly. "But I've learned a lot about Dementors thanks to the lessons I took with a Necro Master, when she taught me how to communicate with one. And I learned even more thanks to what Cadmus wrote in his journal regarding all the discoveries he made about souls." He intently stared at him, and added sternly, "I have a plan with great chances of succeeding. After reading his journal, and feeling his emotions as if they were my own, I know Cadmus as much as I know myself. And that's what I'll use against him. I'm ready, Vulcan."

"Very well," said Vagnarov with a heavy sigh. "I guess that you won't come to school tomorrow, either." Orion nodded, and the old man continued, "I'll tell your professors, and please, write to your friends, they'll be concerned. It's your decision whether to tell them the truth about what you attempted to do." He placed a hand on Orion's shoulder, and added with concern, "And write to me when it's over. I want to know if you succeeded and also if you came out of it without any serious or permanent injury. And if you need healing, come to Durmstrang. I'll heal you and help you recover. If your soul is damaged, there's isn't much that I can do, but I can help you with physical wounds and mind injuries."

"Thanks," muttered Orion quietly.

"Furthermore, the spirits will want to know the outcome as well. If you succeed…" Vagnarov widely smirked, his dark eyes glinting. "Well, if you succeed in killing the Dementor and resurrecting your father, the spirits would realize that they foolishly alienated precisely the wizard they have been longing for, since it will be one more proof of your true powers and your chances of surviving the Vindico test. Thus, they'll think about it twice before angering you or attempting to manipulate you again."

Orion smirked back at him. "Then, if I succeed, I'll write to you, and you have my permission to tell them."

"Deal," said Vagnarov, a conspiratorial smile tugging his lips. He tightened his squeeze on Orion's shoulder, and added quietly, with a serious expression on his aged face, "Remember, if you need me, come to me. I want to spend my last days on Earth knowing that I have not only furthered the Vindico cause, but also yours."

"I'll remember, Vulcan," said Orion, warmly smiling at him. "And I'll always thank you for everything you've done for me."

Vagnarov nodded and dropped his hand away from Orion's shoulder. "Go, my boy, and may your dark powers protect you."

Orion nodded back at him, and mutely, he clutched his father's invisible body tighter against his chest and quickly left the Headmaster's office, shooting at him one last grateful and fond smile.

* * *

"Look who finally deigned to grace me with his presence," bit out Loki, darkly scowling at him. "I've been waiting for you forever, Black! As if I have nothing better to do with my time than-"

"Shut it, Njord," snapped Orion, heavily panting since he had ran all the way from Durmstrang to the outskirts of Sølvanghøj; the light weight of his father's invisible body adding more to the exhaustion he felt, due to spending the whole day being cursed by Grindelwald while under the influence of the Resurrection Stone. Not to mention that he had barely slept the previous night, after leaving Lycaon.

He flicked his wand at his father's body, cancelling the disillusionment charm, and said hastily, "I'm here now. That's what matters. Let's go."

Loki shot him a dark glower, before gripping Orion's shoulder and the hand of the body Orion was carrying, summarily pulling all of them into an apparition. Orion still wondered how the young wizard managed to apparate from Bornholm Island. True, they had been well outside Durmstrang's anti-apparition wards, but the rest of the island also had anti-apparation wards casted and monitored by the Danish Ministry of Magic. Though, he surmised that Loki was able to apparate them, undetected, because the young wizard was a member of the Necromancers Guild. It was surely one more Guild-thing that those Necromancers were able to do, in order to keep their society and their location a secret.

The skies had been dark at Bornholm Island, since it had been nine in the evening, but when Orion's feet landed on the rocky terrain of the tiny inlet suspended in mid air, the skies were a mix of night and day, as always. The moonlight meshed with the glow of stars and with the golden, orange and red rays of sunlight, creating swirling waves of infinite, pulsating colors which streaked above them.

He felt a tingle over every inch of his skin, caused by the heavy magic vibrating all around them. Also, as it always happened when he was there, he felt pleasantly detached and weightless, with his dark magic surging and his Necromantic powers spreading throughout him. And he gazed, mesmerized as usual, at the undulating masses of turquoise seas which enclosed them by plunging into an infinite abyss formed by gigantic, foaming waterfalls.

This time, Loki quickly kneeled on the rocky ground and pressed his palms together pointing downwards, while reverently whispering the litany to gain access to the Guild. Then, the young wizard plunged the ring he always carried into the Necromancer's symbol etched on the ground – a triangle with an all-black eye inscribed in it.

Loki pulled out the ring and swiftly stood up, while gazing ahead with unfocused, unseeing eyes. Then, he snapped his head around to look at Orion, and said briskly, "I told them we're here. They were already waiting for us. Let's go."

Orion nodded and instantly allowed his Necromantic powers to completely suffuse him, knowing that his eyes were turning into glowing pits of blackness. He followed Loki across the suspended path of the floating scaffoldings that crossed the abyss, which now had its pit filled with a dense mass of smoldering lava.

They reached the Guild, which was the downturned mountain suspended in mid air, floating amidst all the lava and surrounded by the endless, oceanic waterfalls, and Loki pressed his ring into another Necromancer symbol. The rocks shifted and cracked, giving way to a tunnel-like passage, and Orion followed the young wizard inside.

Strangely enough, while Orion trailed after Loki, he didn't hear the usual distant, eerie whispers, wails and howls, and he didn't feel the presence of forms lurking around. The silence was absolute, and he asked Loki about it, curious.

"All the Necromancers are waiting for you in the Gate's chamber," replied the young wizard tartly. "Therefore, none of them are working. Meaning, that they haven't been creating portals into other planes or summoning souls and otherworldly creatures. Thus, you don't feel or hear them."

A bit perplexed, Orion nodded and proceeded to follow him in silence, deep in his own musings. They took a downward, spiraling staircase which plunged into the depths of the Guild and Orion saw countless closed doors on every level. Finally, they reached the seventh floor, which was the last level, smaller than the others since it was located in the inverted mountain's crest.

They took a long, dimly lit corridor, and Orion halted in his tracks and gasped when he saw Loki crossing a sheet of silvery mist which cut through the corridor. What made him gasp was that Loki's body was fractioned into a sequence of slices of flesh, bones, and mass, as the boy crossed the thick mist. But it all snapped back together as soon as Loki left the silvery screen of fog, seemingly utterly unaffected and unconcerned while proceeding down the corridor.

"Wait!" yelled Orion, clutching his father's body tighter against his chest, while he stood uncertainly before the strange sheet of silvery mist.

Loki spun around, and bit out impatiently, "What is it now, Black?"

"What the bloody hell is this?" snapped Orion. "Are you expecting me to go through this?"

"Of course you must go through it," snarked out Loki, short-tempered. "It's harmless, Black. It's just a locus of fractured time. The Guild is filled with them." He scowled when Orion didn't move a toe to go forward, and added impatiently, "For Merlin's sake, Black, don't you understand anything? The Guild is the epicenter of the Cross of Planes. You already know that time is bent here and that it acts differently in different places inside the Guild. It's because the Guild is the nexus of all the planes; where their boundaries meet and cross together, and where portals can be easily created to access them. That's what fills the Guild with magic and its unique characteristics, which defy all logic and law of nature and time." He briskly gestured at the silvery sheet of fog, and snapped crisply, "This is just a Locus of Time, completely harmless. So move on and stop wasting our time, Black!"

"Alright," grunted Orion, eyeing the shifting, silvery screen with suspicious caution. He took in a deep breath, tightly pressed his father against his chest, and plunged forward.

It was the strangest and most bizarre and uncomfortable thing he had ever experienced. He saw his father's body, and his own, being vertically sliced into infinite thin slabs of bones and flesh. It was slightly painful, like the prickle of sharp needles throughout his body. But it was over very soon, and he came out of the screen of silvery mist quickly inspecting himself and touching every part of his body, making sure that all his parts were still with him.

When he saw that he was complete and unscathed, Orion let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Quit the dramatics, Black," snapped Loki sharply, with an annoyed scowl, "and fondle yourself on your own bloody time. As if I want to see that!"

"Yeah, well, I had to make sure that my limbs and family jewels were intact," bit out Orion crisply. "You might be sexually repressed but I'm not. I enjoy it a lot, thank you very much, and I wanted to make sure all my bits and parts were undamaged."

Loki snorted disparagingly, while turning on his heels and proceeding down the corridor. "It would have been a blessing for wizarding kind if you had left behind your bits. The last thing we need is for you to procreate and pass down your idiocy!"

"I'm the best student at Durmstrang, along with Calypso," snapped Orion irritably, following the cranky young wizard. "And I'm powerful as well, remember that."

"So what?" scoffed Loki scathingly. "You're an utter idiot, regardless. The day I leave Durmstrang will be the happiest of my life. I won't be an involuntary witness of your inane antics any longer."

Orion snidely snorted. "And I won't have to see your sour, scowling face every bloody weekend. It will be a happy occurrence for both of us."

"Yes, it will," snapped Loki, while stopping in front of a door and swiftly yanking it open. "Get inside, Black."

Shooting him a glare, and fleetingly wondering why the boy was even more snarky with him than usual, Orion entered the room. It was a cavernous, circular chamber dimly lit by some torches embedded on the rocky walls. And there, in the middle of the vast chamber, he was confronted by a group of individuals who looked like grim specters. They were all covered from head to toes with black cloaks, their hoods shrouding their faces in shadows, only their glowing all-black eyes visible from within the darkness.

The silence felt heavy and ominous, but Orion could hear eerie whispers breaking it, not coming from the Necromancers but, seemingly, from someplace far away. And his skin tingled while it was raised with goose bumps, feeling the same way he had felt around the Veil in the Department of Mysteries; entranced and transfixed by what waited in the beyond, his Necromantic and dark magic swirling animatedly inside him, imbuing and fueling him with power. Furthermore, he felt again that eerie sense of belonging towards all the Necromancers congregated there, as if there were invisible ties linking them together.

He understood the sensations he was feeling when the large group of Necromasters shifted to either sides of the chamber, allowing him to see a huge stone arch from which a mantle of flowing darkness fluttered as if moved by a breeze. It was a Necromancer's Gate; possibly the one the Guild had stolen from the English Department of Mysteries, after learning about it thanks to his disastrous incursion into the Ministry with Calypso and Lezander.

Orion pulled his entranced gaze away from the Gate when he heard Loki taking in a sharp inhale of breath, and he saw what had provoked it. Four Necromancers had taken several steps forward, and he recognized three of them immediately, despite their hooded cloaks: Necro Master Njord, who was Loki's father; Necro Master Vresi, the witch who had taught him how to communicate with Dementors; and Necro Master Kreguil. But it was the fourth figure which had surely surprised Loki, and Orion inspected the man carefully, with a small measure of suspicion and wonder.

The wizard was a strongly built man he had never seen before, dressed very strangely: with a fitting ensemble of breeches, boots, vest, and doublet, which seemed antique-looking, fashionable centuries ago. The strangeness derived from what accompanied that the man's rich clothing. He had a leather strap running across his chest, carrying a large jeweled sword which peeked from the wizard's broad shoulder, his thighs had straps carrying daggers which seemed imbued with poison given the tint of their blades, and his right forearm carried a wand inside a holster.

Orion stared at him, perplexed. The middle-aged wizard seemed a cross between a regal aristocrat and a fierce, experimented warrior. And when his gaze travelled to the man's face, he realized that the wizard was certainly much older than he appeared to be.

His features were strong and masculine: with a squared jaw; spiky white hair framing his face; an old scar running from the muscled right cheek to the strong chin; with strange black symbols tattooed down along the man's forehead to his left cheek; and intense eyes of orange pupils which were piercing into his. Orion gazed right back at him, and the man kept silently staring at him with cold assessment, the wizard's expression revealing nothing but stern seriousness and gravity.

Orion slightly frowned, wondering who the man was and what he was doing there. He was about to ask, when the wizard's orange eyes suddenly turned into glowing pits of blackness, as the man turned his gaze to Necro Master Njord. Orion's eyes widened when he realized that the wizard was a Necromancer as well, surely communicating mind-to-mind with Necro Master Njord, who was now also staring at the strange wizard. And if the man was there, then he had to be part of the Guild. But what puzzled him the most was that, despite the certainty that the man was a full-fledged Necromancer, the wizard's eyes weren't always all-black, like in the case of the rest of the Guild's Necromancers. Indeed, the wizard's gaze turned away from Necro Master Njord, and now stared back at him, with his eyes orange once again.

Orion's frown deepened and he side-glanced at Loki, seeing that the boy was also gazing at the strange wizard, with awed respect but also recognition.

Necro Master Njord took a step toward them, and pressed his palms together, with his hands pointing downwards, which was the traditional Guild salute, before he said in a raspy voice, "Everything is set, Mr. Black. As you requested in your latest letter submitted by apprentice Loki, and as agreed in the magical contract we signed."

"Excellent," said Orion, peeling his gaze away from the unknown wizard, and slightly bowing his head in greeting, since he couldn't do the hand salute given that he was still carrying his father's body. He pierced Necro Master Njord with his eyes, and asked, "Did you make sure that Cadmus is well-fed?"

"We did," interjected Necro Master Vresi, in her hoarse voice, her all-black glowing eyes meeting his. "One of our duties is to provide Dementors with sustenance, when needed. And you asked us to particularly direct the High One into consuming souls which were ready to undergo the Ultimate Transcendence in the spiritual plane, to have him brimming with souls, for this occasion."

Orion nodded, faintly smiling at her, and though he heard the inquiry in her voice, he didn't address it. They would understand soon enough why he needed Cadmus to be 'well-fed'. After all, the more souls a Dementor consumed and had trapped inside itself, the more aware the creature was. And he needed Cadmus to be as aware as possible, inside the limitations of a Dementor's instinct-driven, irrational, and chaotic mind.

He glanced again at the strange wizard, frowning, and thus clearly expressing his unvoiced demand to know the reason for the presence of the unknown man. The wizard was still piercing him with his orange eyes, with a grave and stern expression on his face.

"You may begin," said Necro Master Kreguil, his voice less hoarse and raspy than that of the other two.

Orion glanced at him, his jaw firmly set. He got the point: the strange wizard was there to observe him as well, and he wouldn't be told who the man was until after he finished with what he came there to do.

He merely nodded at them, and proceeded towards the middle of the vast, dimly lit chamber, gently setting his father's body on the ground, several foots away from the Gate. He quickly whipped out his Death and Life wand and conjured a small, plush pillow under his father's head. Then, he carefully laid his school bag on the stone floor.

He straightened back up, and addressed all of the congregated Guild Necromancers, his voice firm and commanding, "I ask you to form a circle along the walls of this room. I need space. Also, I will be casting a ward. You'll be able to see and hear through it, but I and those inside it will not see you, though we will be able to hear you. Thus, I also ask you to remain silent, since the Dementor mustn't know that you are here. After all, that's for your benefit, since you don't want him to know that you aided me by lending me the Gate."

Orion saw them silently obeying his instructions, the unknown wizard and Loki as well.

"Will the ward contain in the High One?" rasped out Necro Master Njord, standing beside the orange-eyed wizard who was still fixedly and assessingly staring at Orion.

"Yes."

Necro Master Vresi pierced him with her all-black eyes, and said hoarsely, "You know that we won't interfere. Whatever happens, you'll have to deal with it yourself. Even if you are in danger, we will not risk revealing that the Guild had any part in this."

"I know," said Orion calmly, glancing at her. "I know what your plans are. You want to get rid of the Dementors and I'm here to show you the way I found to do it. But you don't want Cadmus to know that you are here, because you aren't ready to go forward with your plans in case I fail here today." He bore his eyes into hers, and said dryly, "I understand the Guild's position in this matter. This is an experiment, to see if the way I found is successful and if you can use it to get rid of all the others Dementors." He smirked, and added, "Perhaps it is, but I must clarify that I only care about confronting Cadmus. If I succeed, you can use my method –if you can- but it will be your problem to modify it to fit your own goals. I'm confident that my plan will work with Cadmus." His smirk widened, and he nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "With the rest of Dementors – who knows."

"That's acceptable," said Necro Master Kreguil, taking his place in the circle of Necromancers. "It meets the terms of the magical contract we signed."

Orion nodded, and stopped paying attention to them, as he concentrated to begin the first steps of his plan. He briefly closed his all-black eyes, spurring the Necromantic powers inside of him, feeling a rush of dark magic filling him as well. Then, he swished his wand through the air, following the pattern taught to him by Vagnarov in one of their Necromancy lessons. And he poured out his Necromantic powers in the nonverbal spell.

Immediately, he saw a flow of black strings flowing from the tip of his wand. The magic kept creeping out, forming a netted mesh of blackness which started to form an immense dome over and around him. When the black mantle finished encompassing the vast space occupied by him, his father's body and the Gate, he flicked his wand, to close the ward. Now, he didn't see the Guild Necromancers anymore; they were outside of the dome of black, Necromantic magic, though he could hear the faint ruffle of their cloaks.

Satisfied with the containment ward, Orion knelt beside his school bag, and plucked out several things and laid them on the stone floors: a sharp, silver dagger; a flask casted with preservation charms; the thick notebook in which he had translated the druidic symbols of Cadmus' journal into English; a small, black marble basin; and two closed, ceramic jars.

When he had all the things ready, he rolled up one sleeve of his Durmstrang uniform, grasped the dagger and swiftly slashed it through his left wrist, with a long, horizontal cut. He pressed the wound with his fingers, and poured his blood into the black marble basin. His blood slowly trickled down and he patiently waited until it filled half the bowl. Once done, he closed his eyes, feeling a bit dizzy. He waited a few seconds as the wound quickly healed itself thanks to the Zraven, vampiric blood in him, and opened his eyes when the dizziness and weakness of his body faded away.

Orion straightened up, brandished his wand, and said loudly, "Escriba en flameo!"

Instantly, the tip of his wand glowed in a bright hot red and he pointed it to the ground. He swished the wand in the air, following the pattern to write a rune, and he saw how the ancient symbol was etched in the floor, the stone floor melting in the trace he was writing. He continued etching ancient runes in the floor, which would serve as anchors for his summon, and he walked along the vast chamber, forming a circle of symbols and complicated patterns melted into the stone floors.

When he was done, he cancelled the spell on his wand's tip, and he grasped the marble basin. He tilted it, and his blood flowed from it into the symbols etched on the floor. He kept pouring, and slowly, all the runes inscribed in the stone floors were filled with his blood. Finally, he set the empty basin on the floor and he grasped the flask, setting it on his left palm. He pointed his wand at it, and summarily vanished it. With a 'pop', the glass flask disappeared, leaving its contents behind, lying on his palm.

Orion glanced at it briefly, at the piece of skin he had carved out from Cadmus' journal: a piece of the skin which had covered the journal – Eloise's skin, still preserved over countless centuries. He took a few steps and carefully laid it on the ground, in the middle of the circle of runes he had etched on the floor.

Then, he took a deep breath and concentrated on spurring his Necromantic powers inside of him. Instantly, he felt contently detached and aloof, and also buzzing with a potency of power which was very familiar to him by now, as he allowed his Necromantic powers to utterly take hold of him. His glowing all-black eyes zeroed in on the piece of skin and he waved his wand in mid-air, as he murmured a long litany of conjure spells, his lips silently moving.

The runes filled with his blood started glowing in a deep red, and he continued with the summoning spell, as his Necromantic powers flowed from his body through his wand, pouring from the wand's tip into the piece of skin. In a few hitches of breath, he had constructed a column of blackness, rooted on the floor by the runes filled with his blood, with Eloise's piece of skin lying in the middle – a summoning portal anchored in the mortal plane by ancient runes and his blood, and its magic spurred by the flesh of the one who would be summoned.

Finally, Orion pointed his wand at the piece of skin, and called loudly, "Eloise Talbot, come forth from your slumber in the spiritual plane! Eloise Talbot, hear my summon and answer!"

He knew that his words were merely a formality, since the runes he had etched, her skin, and his blood, added to the portal made by his Necromantic powers, would already serve to pull her soul from the spiritual plane. Nevertheless, he repeated them once more, inwardly hoping that her soul was still in the spiritual plane, that it wasn't currently reborn into someone alive. His plan would be ruined if not.

Suddenly, the runes etched on the stone floors beamed in a dark red and wisps of whitish fogginess started swirling from the piece of skin, and Orion sighed in relief, as he stared at it. A hazy shape quickly formed and he gaped at it when it finally solidified into a spirit. It was a little, dainty girl, wearing a dress which was fashionable decades ago, and she couldn't be more than six or eight years old.

Her large eyes glanced around her, and she said in a soft, panicky voice, "Mamá? Dónde estoy? No recuerdo… Yo estaba en… no me acuerdo! Mamá?" She let out a sob, her small frame shaking, and her eyes finally settled on Orion, and she said in a frail, teary voice, "Quién eres? Dónde estoy? Dónde está mi mamá?"

Distantly, Orion heard a sharp chuckle, coming from outside the dome-like ward he had casted at first. Fleetingly, he realized that it was a clear-sounding chuckle, not a raspy, hoarse one of a Guild Necromancer – it had to be from the strange man. So the unknown wizard knew Spanish…

He shook his head, clearing it from his pointless speculations, and concentrated back on the little girl. Thankfully, he knew a bit of Spanish thanks to Artemisa, one of his DA Elite, since her mother was a Spaniard and Artemisa often let out Spanish phrases when she was stressed, enthusiastic, or when dueling.

Orion eyed the little girl closely, quickly reviewing his options. When planning his confrontation with Cadmus, he had admitted the possibility of this happening: that Eloise's soul could have been reborn several times after her death. Thus, he knew what he had to do, for he needed 'Eloise', not a reborn version of herself which remembered nothing of her life as Eloise Talbot.

He approached the little girl slowly, and warmly smiled at her, saying gently in a thickly accented and wobbly Spanish, "Soy Orion. Cómo te llamas?"

"Alejandra," said the girl, her teary eyes gazing up at him with uncertainty. "Quiero a mi mamá!"

Orion took one more step towards her, but she quickly backed away, her eyes widening with fright.

"No tengas miedo de mi," he said softly, halting in his tracks.

"Tus ojos son raros," whispered Alejandra shakily, staring into his all-black eyes.

Orion gently smiled at her. "Sí, lo son. Pero no me tengas miedo. Soy un amigo. Te puedo ayudar a encontrar a tu madre."

"De verdad?" said Alejandra, gazing up at him with innocent hope.

"Sí," said Orion, extending a hand while he surreptitiously aimed his wand at her. "Coge mi mano, y te ayudaré."

"Está bien," she said timidly, laying her ethereal, small hand in his. Her eyes widened as she stared at her hand, and she gasped out while she withdrew it away, "Por qué son mis manos así?"

But Orion had quickly snatched her whitish hand in his before she could pull away, and he said softly, "No tengas miedo. Son así porque moriste, Alejandra. Pero yo te ayudaré. Te ayudaré a recordar."

She let out a sobbed wail, but Orion quickly aimed his wand at her, and said hastily, "Memorium de vitas preteritus!"

A silver beam struck her whitish form, and Orion dropped her hand when he saw that she started changing shapes. He knew what was happening. The Necromantic spell was forcing her to remember her past lifes, and as she remembered, her spirit changed forms, since a soul took the shape of the last life it remembered.

To help the transformation go along more quickly, he swiftly took the book of the translation of Cadmus' journal, and he started to read out loud the passages that Cadmus had written about his personal life with Eloise Talbot.

"_I look at your beautiful face as you sleep on my bed, while I write this. Haven't we spent the most marvelous month together? Then why are you unhappy? We make love each night, as we used to before you died, and I feel your warm body pressed against mine, when I wrap my arms around you… You look at me with love and devotion, and you are truly alive once again, so why are you so despondent the rest of the time? Why do you tell me that you don't belong here-_"

"Cadmus?"suddenly gasped out a soft voice.

Orion peeled his gaze away from the book, and instantly shut it close when he saw that the little girl was no more. The spirit had now the ethereal, whitish shape of a lithe, young woman. Her face wasn't exceptionally beautiful but her features exuded sweetness and gentility of character, with flowing long hair and large, doe-like eyes. She had to be Eloise Talbot.

The spirit's eyes widened, and to him, she seemed to be horrified while she stared back at him, taking steps to put as much distance between them as possible.

"Not again, Cadmus, please," she pleaded in a trembling, beseeching voice, as she wildly glanced around her, as if looking for an escape. "I can't go through with this again. I asked you not to do it. Not again, please!"

Orion slightly frowned at her when he closed the gap between them and she kept backing away. Finally, he extended an open hand, as if showing that he was harmless, and said quietly, "I'm not Cadmus."

"You are!" said the spirit adamantly, gazing at him with wide, terrified eyes. "Your face, your strange eyes…" A frown spread over her ethereal forehead, and she added with a hint of doubt, "You look younger… Oh, Cadmus, what have you done now?"

Orion bit his lower lip, reviewing her words in his mind, since it was difficult for him to understand them straightforwardly; her accent was heavy and strange – Old English, he surmised.

He sighed, and asked slowly, "What year do you think it is?"

"I… hmm, 732 was the year you last tried to bring me back," she said uncertainly, her gentle, doe-like eyes piercing into his. "Is it still, Cadmus? How long has it been?"

Orion shook his head, and said quietly, "I'm not Cadmus. I'll prove it to you." He quickly closed his eyes, and made his Necromantic powers rest calmly inside of him, momentarily. Immediately, he opened his eyes and gazed at her, as he said, "What is the color of my eyes?"

"Green," she whispered perplexed, her eyes widening. "But they were black before, and you have dark gray eyes, Cadmus. What did you do-"

"I'm not Cadmus, I'm his descendant, Eloise," interrupted Orion hastily, keeping his voice gentle and soothing. "And we're in the year 1997."

She gasped, and then shook her head while she muttered, "1997… so long has passed…" She stared at him uncertainly, and finally said quietly, her gaze softening, "You look so much like him. I thought you were him. I was scared that Cadmus was trying to resurrect me once again... But you're his descendant… The descendant of Cadmus' son with Ursula Black?"

"Yes. I'm Orion Black."

Eloise nodded, and then her ethereal body shivered, and she took a step forward while she murmured with deep emotion, "I can't go through with it again, do you understand? It's horrible. I don't want to feel it ever again. He promised he would stop trying. I don't belong here! Please, don't make me-"

"I'm not trying to bring you back to this plane," interrupted Orion quickly.

"What do you want, then?" demanded Eloise, wrapping her ghostly arms around her body.

"I need your help," said Orion quietly, piercing her with his eyes. "Do you remember how Cadmus looked like the last time you saw him?"

"Yes," replied the spirit, shivering and tightening her arms around herself. "He had your eyes…"

"These?" interjected Orion, immediately spurring his Necromantic powers and making his eyes turn into glowing pits of blackness, and keeping himself that way since he would need to be suffused by his powers for the following steps of his plan.

"Yes," said Eloise, her voice wavering with the reminiscence of past horrors. "And he was also – strange." She shook her head, and added with sorrow, "He was deranged, he was dark and violent… I came to truly fear him. Him - the one I've always loved, and who was always gentle and loving to me! He didn't want to let me go… He wouldn't let me go back. But I couldn't stay with him! Do you understand? I don't belong here! This is unnatural, against the teachings of Christ and-"

"You were a witch," interrupted Orion frowning.

It sounded as if she had been a devoutly religious person. There was nothing wrong with that in his book, but it surprised him, since almost all wizards -and even more so the pureblooded ones- believed simply in Magic, and not in muggle religions. To him, it didn't matter. He believed in Magic, and if muggles wanted to call it God, Buddha, or whatever else, it was fine by him. But he didn't like the other connotations muggles ascribed to such things; like the beliefs in Good and Evil, Heaven and Hell, and such black-and-white notions. Those muggle ideas were precisely what had caused the witch-hunt era, and endless periods of persecution and killings of innocent wizards and witches. And it was one more reason why purebloods hated muggles, as well. To him, everything and everyone was grey: no good, no evil, just imperfect people. He inwardly smirked. Though it was true that some deserved worse than others. Off the top of his head he could quickly count the bloody Spirits -Morgana and Mordred- and even Dumbledore in that category... Succintly, those who stuck their noses in other people's lifes and ruthlessly manipulated them for their own purposes, often resulting in pain and sorrow for their victims... Well, in those cases, he would indeed like to be the avenging angel who struck them down. That was certainly an enticing and tempting divine role...

"I… yes," muttered the spirit, staring at him with a defensive expresison on her ethereal face, "but I'm a half-blood. My mother was a muggle, and I was partly raised as such. I know what is evil! And he was becoming-"

"Evil?" supplied Orion, his lips thinning into a tight, stern line.

"Yes," said Eloise firmly, boring her ghostly eyes into his. "The last time I saw him, in the year 732, it was the fifth time he brought me back into a body. A body he had created out of the flesh he had skinned from my true body; from my tomb – desecrating it. Desecrating my peace, my soul. What is that if not unnatural and evil?" She shook her head mournfully, and added quietly, "I tried to make him see reason. I loved him still and I wanted him to accept my death. To let me go in peace. He wouldn't listen. He had become… insane, perturbed… different. I don't think he was human anymore. He had these all-black eyes you have now, but also, his body was different – emaciated… His skin wrinkling, darkening… He seemed to be rotting alive… I don't know how to explain it…"

"He was a Necromancer, like myself," interjected Orion, eyeing her closely. "Do you know what that is?"

"I do," she replied. "He explained to me what he had become, all the things he had discovered…" She shivered again. "He explained his unnatural powers to me."

"I see," said Orion curtly. "And you thought he was evil. I'm a Necromancer as well. Do I seem evil to you?"

"You… no," said Eloise softly, intently gazing at him. "But he wasn't like you either, not the last time I saw him. He was something else. I could feel it. He wasn't my Cadmus anymore, not my beloved. I couldn't bear it – to see him like that or to stay away from the peace from which he pulled me out of, repeatedly." She pierced him with her ghostly eyes, and whispered in a teary, sorrowful voice, "I truly loved him but I knew that what he was doing was harming him – both of us. I made him promise to never bring me back again, and then… I killed myself, even if it went against everything I believed that was right, because I couldn't-"

"And he never resurrected you again after that, nor did he show himself to you after he changed," murmured Orion to himself, pensively. He sharply glanced at her. "You were right. Cadmus became a Necromancer first, but then he changed into something inhuman. You said he seemed to be rotting alive… Yes, I suppose that's how it starts…" He pierced her with his eyes, and added quietly, "He became a dark creature, Eloise. A Dementor. Do you know what they are?"

"Dementor?" she gasped out, her eyes widening with horrified fear and revulsion. "Yes… I sometimes see them coming, disturbing us… taking some of us away, eating us…" Her ethereal eyes seemed to brim with whitish tears, and she whispered wretchedly, "My beloved Cadmus turned into one of those monsters?"

"They aren't monsters," said Orion sternly. "They serve a purpose, Eloise. They aid the Force of Death, and guard the Balance between the planes; particularly between the mortal and spiritual plane. And they don't 'eat' souls. They consume them when the souls have gone through all their rebirths. They are the means by which a soul goes through its Ultimate Transcendence, making a soul flow back into the Sources of Magic."

The spirit repeatedly shook her head. "I don't understand-"

"It's not imperative for you to do so," interrupted Orion gently. "Just know that even if Cadmus is a Dementor at present, he is still the wizard you love."

He highly doubted that, but he dearly needed her help for his plan to work. He needed her to accept doing what he would require of her.

"Is he?" said Eloise, her large eyes seeming hopeful to him.

"Yes," reaffirmed Orion, warmly smiling at her. "I think you can give him rest and peace. Because you want that – you still love him, don't you?"

"I do," whispered Eloise softly, before her expression turned sad. "I always did. I never stopped, even after everything he made me go through."

"Then you can help me," said Orion gently. "He has my father's soul inside him, and I want to free it. For that to happen, I need Cadmus to die. If he dies, he'll have peace at last-"

"But his soul-"

"Cadmus lost his soul centuries ago," interrupted Orion. "He lost it when he consumed his first soul – when he turned into a Dementor. There's no way to undo that. There's no way to give him back his soul. It doesn't exist anymore. The only way to help him is to kill him. To end it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Eloise tearfully. "I rather know he died, than to have him remain an inhuman, unfeeling creature – a Dementor… Perturbed, always yearning for more souls, ravaging, destroying… I rather have him know the peace of inexistence."

Orion gazed at her with surprise. He hadn't expected her to understand it so quickly, or to be so easily willing to kill Cadmus, knowing that he wouldn't exist after that – that she wouldn't be joined with his soul in the spiritual plane. But it seemed that Eloise understood what was at play: Cadmus would utterly die, with no soul left, for it simply didn't exist any longer. Though, the way she put it – 'know the peace of inexistence'- sounded naively romantic and ignorantly poetic to him, but if that was the spin she gave it, better for him.

He inwardly grimaced, for he knew that there was no 'peace' in non-existence, there was simply nothing. But he gently smiled at her, and said softly, "Yes, he'll know peace if he dies. And you can help me make it happen."

"How?" said Eloise, her doe-like eyes gazing at him as if he was a noble savior sent to her by a higher power to ease her pain and sorrow.

Orion cleared his throat in discomfort, since he didn't enjoy playing along with her delusion. But pondering on it, he realized that Eloise was probably perfectly aware of what 'inexistence' truly encompassed – she was probably lying to herself about the 'peace' part in order to assuage her conscience. Nevertheless, what mattered was that she preferred to end the Dementor's life, as a way to help her 'beloved' Cadmus, so he wouldn't dwell on it any longer.

He pointed at the Necromancer's Gate a few feet away from them. "That's a Gate and the Force of Death lies behind it. Any human that goes through it would have his soul torn from his body. The body vanishing and the soul going into the spiritual plane – meaning death to anyone. To anyone except a Dementor, since it isn't truly alive. Regardless, after much research and study, I believe that if a Dementor goes through it, its body would cease to exist, and the souls feeding it would be plunged into the spiritual plane. Without the souls and without its body, Cadmus would cease to exist – without a doubt. But the crux of the matter is that a Dementor has to enter the Gate willingly. Even if I tried to force Cadmus to cross it, I wouldn't succeed – he's much too powerful. He has to go through it on his own accord, after I take my father's soul from him. And that's-"

"That's what you want me for," interrupted Eloise softly, intently gazing at him. "You want me to persuade him to go through it."

"Precisely," said Orion quietly. "Take him into the Gate with you. Nothing will happen to you except that you'll be thrown back into the spiritual plane – that peace you spoke about, to which you want to go back."

"And he would die."

Orion mutely nodded and she shivered slightly, her ethereal face looking uncertain.

"It's either that," said Orion firmly, "or he continues being a Dementor forever, consuming more souls… The problem isn't that he consumes the souls of the spiritual plane, for he helps in their Ultimate Transcendence. The problem is that Dementors feed on living wizards and witches, since they can't ease their hunger just by consuming the souls in the spiritual plane. They need more and they take it." He gazed at her, and added beseechingly, "He took my father's soul, Eloise, and my father was still alive, in the mortal plane. That shouldn't happen. And my father didn't deserve it. At present, he's in a limbo – not dead or alive, while Cadmus keeps slowly feeding on his soul. It has to be endless torture for my father, and I need to-"

"I understand," interrupted Eloise gently. "I'll help you."

"Thank you," said Orion warmly, inwardly sighing with relief. He pierced her with his eyes, and added quietly, "Much will depend on you. I'll try to reason with him, but he's a Dementor, so my efforts might be fruitless and I might be forced to use spells against him-"

"And I'll have to persuade him," interjected Eloise, nodding. "I'll have to make him remember about me, about us." She gazed at him, and asked softly, "Will he remember?"

"I hope so," replied Orion. "He's as much aware as a Dementor can be – he's well-fed by souls. So it's up to us to make him remember and to convince him to go with you into the Gate."

"I see," murmured the spirit. She pierced him with her ethereal eyes, and said resolutely, "Very well. I'll do it."

"Good," said Orion, smiling at her. "I'll summon him now, but I ask you to remain behind the Gate, unseen by him, until I call your name."

She nodded and smoothly flowed away, obeying his request. Orion wearily rubbed his forehead, took a deep inhale of breath, and quickly plucked out the Gaunt ring from his pocket, putting it on. Distantly, he heard murmurs and the ruffle of cloaks, coming from outside the dome of blackness that warded the area in which he, Eloise, the Gate and his father's body were in. No doubt that it was the Necromancers' reaction to seeing the Gaunt ring – the Resurrection Stone – in his hands, since the Stone was something in which they were highly interested in, and he hadn't shown it to them until then.

Nevertheless, such considerations swiftly left his mind as he felt the effects of the power of the Hallow taking over him. Instantly, he felt a mantle of peaceful detachment wrapping around his mind, his body felt cold and numb, while he felt his Necromantic powers pulsing vibrantly inside him. Moreover, he felt again that inexorable hunger, and his glowing all-black gaze instantly zeroed in on the Gate. Even from that distance, and even if she was hidden behind the artifact, he could feel Eloise's soul – the warmth of it, the promise of the exquisiteness of her essence.

Orion shivered and firmly clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay put instead of launching himself on the spirit. He could feel pearls of sweat materializing on his forehead and trickling down, but he took several deep breaths and forced himself to remain controlled. It certainly helped that he couldn't see her, since her soul would surely be as enticingly pure, untarnished, and mesmerizingly complete as Draco's…

He shook his head repeatedly, abating his desire, and quickly shot his right palm forward. He inwardly repeated the long string of conjures he had learned in Necromancy lessons at Durmstrang, and his Necromantic powers started flowing from his extend palm, while a column of blackness began to be formed by it.

It was a portal like the one that Vagnarov had constructed for the test of his first Necromancy class – in which he had unwittingly summoned Cadmus. He saw the ancient runes he had carved into the stone floors glowing with the red of the blood he had poured into them, he detected how the stifled air seemed to vibrate with magic, how the temperature seemed to drop, and how his breath came out as vapory puffs of condensed whiteness. And finally, he tiredly dropped his hand when the portal was complete.

Orion steeled himself while he inwardly reviewed his plan. He would use the Resurrection Stone to stand powerfully against the Dementor, he would try to communicate with it, he would have to use several spells, and at last, he would use Cadmus' love against him. He would use his obsession – Eloise- to make him go through the Gate. He would use love against his enemy, just like any Dark Lord would mercilessly do. And he wouldn't allow himself to stupidly feel pity or empathic commiseration for Cadmus, even if he always felt it. He would ruthlessly push those feelings to a side, for the Dementor wouldn't be the Cadmus of the journal, which had made him feel all of the wizard's wrecking and despairing emotions. He would be killing a Dementor who was feeding on his father's soul – an enemy to destroy. And he would deal with it as such.

Finally, he whipped out his wand, took a heavy breath, and plunged into the summoning portal.

* * *

Translation:

_Mamá? Dónde estoy? No recuerdo… Yo estaba en… no me acuerdo! __Mamá?_ = Mom? Where am I? I don't remember… I was in… I can't remember! Mom?

_Quién eres? D__ónde estoy? Dónde está mi mamá?_ = Who are you? Where am I? Where's my mom?

_Soy Orion. __Cómo te llamas?_ = I'm Orion. What's your name?

_Aleja__ndra. Quiero a mi mamá! _= Alejandra. I want my mother!

_No tengas miedo de mi_= Don't be afraid of me.

_Tus ojos son raros _= Your eyes are weird.

_Sí, lo son. Pero no me tengas miedo. Soy un amigo. Te puedo ayudar a encontrar a tu madre._ = Yes, they are. But don't be afraid of me. I'm a friend. I can help you find your mother.

_De verdad?_ = Truly?

_Sí. Coge mi mano, y te ayudaré._ = Yes. Grab my hand, and I'll help you.

_Está bien__. __Por qué son mis manos así?_ = Alright. Why are my hands like this?

_No tengas miedo. Son a__sí porque moriste, Alejandra. Pero yo te ayudaré. __Te ayudaré a recordar. _= Don't be afraid. They are like that because you died, Alejandra. But I'll help you. I'll help you remember.


	12. The Confrontation

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Warning: Rape and a bit of slash content.**

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**Chapter 12 **

Orion went through the column of blackness, with his heart wildly beating in his chest. His skin pleasurably tingled as the magic of the portal caressed it, and he firmly stood in the middle of it. The silence seemed deafening, the coldness encroaching, and the dark magic inside him was pulsing and swirling eagerly, as if knowing what he was about to confront. There was no doubt in his mind that Cadmus would appear in the summoning portal, as had happened in his Necromancy test with Vagnarov. After all, the Dementor wanted to kill every living descendant of the main Black line, in revenge, since Ursula Black had once fatally poisoned a resurrected Eloise Talbot.

This time, the wait wasn't long. Suddenly, the temperature seemed to dramatically drop, everything darkened, and a kind of fog rapidly spread inside. Before his all-black glowing eyes, Orion saw a black shape quickly forming. He let out a puff of breath, and steeled himself, as the wraith-like creature gained definition and substance. The Dementor was about ten feet tall, hovering a few inches from the floor, with a dark hooded cloak clothing it, which only revealed grey, skeletal, decayed hands and a black hole for a mouth.

Orion instantly aimed his Death and Life wand at it, while he felt a terrible, yet familiar and unimaginable powerful aura coming from the creature, accompanied by a sense of hopelessness and dejection.

He purposely waited for the creature to act, and just when the Dementor abruptly swooped down on him, he quickly accessed one of his fondest memories, and yelled, "Expecto Patronum!"

The 'happy' memory worked, even if it was one of his most painful as well as one of his most cherished recollections; that of when Lezander, Calypso and he had frolicked and run through the woods encircling Durmstrang Castle, in their animagi forms. He being Firebreath, his wyvern animagus form, with snake-Calypso coiled around his neck while he flew over Lezander, who had been in his beautiful black stallion form. The carefree times and warm camaraderie of their deep friendship had long passed, and Orion's chest ached with the remembrance of that lost unity, since Calypso was, at present, still distant from everyone and since he hadn't seen Lezander in ages, after discovering that his former boyfriend was truly alive.

Nevertheless, the remembered happiness of that memory served its purpose, and his two patroni sprung from the tip of his wand; a glowing, black Basilisk and a beautiful Phoenix. But, as he felt skeletal and painfully cold fingers wrapping around his neck, Orion didn't mentally command his patroni to attack. Instead, he made them wait, encircling him and the Dementor.

As he had expected, and counted on, the Dementor tightened his grasp and inched its hole-like mouth to his lips, while his mind was assaulted by his worst memories. Regardless, with the help of his Occlumency skills, Orion swiftly pushed to a side the effects of the Dementor on his mind, and he concentrated in order to spur all his Necromantic powers, which were magnified by the Resurrection Stone on the Gaunt ring he was wearing.

The Dementor's grip around his throat felt like burning ice on his skin, leaving him gasping for breath with great difficulty. Nevertheless, in the instant that the creature's mouth was inches away from his, Orion swiftly shot forward a hand and pulled the hood away from the creature's head. He swallowed a horrified gasp, and immediately mentally commanded his patroni to attack. Abruptly, the Dementor let out an inhuman high-pitched screech as the great, black Basilisk snapped its jaws at it, while the Phoenix rammed against it.

Orion dropped to the floor, firmly standing on his feet, and gazed at the creature which had backed away from him. Now, with the hood dropped from the creature's head, Orion could see for the first time what a Dementor's face looked like. It was a skeletal, blackened thing; cheekless, hairless, and with rotted patches of shriveled skin here and there, with a lipless hole for a mouth, and milky-white sunken orbs for eyes. He knew perfectly well that the creature couldn't see, but the key for his next step was the creature's blind eyes.

Suddenly, a sharp, pain-filled hiss and a melodious wail resounded through the portal as the Dementor retaliated and attacked the patroni. Though Orion had expected nothing less from such powerful creature, and he waited while he observed the battle between the Basilisk, Phoenix and Dementor. He didn't exactly know how the Dementor was accomplishing it, but a rush of blackness poured from the creature's hole-like mouth and shot out, striking the Basilisk, which hissed, and the Phoenix, which let out a melodious cry.

With a hitch of breath, in the precise instant that the Dementor was occupied fighting against the patroni once more, Orion leapt towards the creature. He was completely imbued with his Necromantic powers; he felt them pulsating inside him, while a constant rush of power, coming from the Gaunt ring, vibrated through him. And, in the bat of an eyelash, Orion wrapped his fingers around the emaciated and bony throat of the Dementor, pressing his body against the creature's, and sinking his gaze into the milky-white orbs.

By touching the Dementor's decayed skin, he knew that he should have felt unbearable pain, like icy spikes stabbing his flesh, like it happened the first time he had encountered Cadmus. But he didn't feel such pain, just slightly, and he surmised that it was because he was much more powerful in his dark magic than the last time he had confronted the Dementor, and also because his Necromantic abilities were magnified by the Resurrection Stone. Nevertheless, he knew his skin would be burned black in the places in which the Dementor had touched him, or where his body came in contact with the Dementor's rotted skin.

Concentrating as he had never concentrated before, Orion pushed his mind's awareness forward, with the use of Legilimency. And while he tightened his grasp on the creature's neck, he used his other hand to spread it over the Dementor's head, and yelled, "Mentis vincula!"

The wandless, Necromantic spell, taught to him by Necro Master Vresi, instantly worked. And Orion saw a silvery glow pouring from his spread palm, which was still pressed against the Dementor's head. The magic swirled in tendrils into the creature's milky eyes, at the same time that it struck Orion's forehead. Gasping, Orion felt a cold mantle sinking into his mind, and he knew that the mind connection had been established.

Nevertheless, in that meanwhile, the Dementor had acted as well, and the patroni seemed to be dimming in their glow, weakened by the attack of the creature. And the Basilisk and Phoenix once again stood to a side by Orion's command. Moreover, the Dementor had also wrapped its skeletal fingers around Orion's throat, and he felt his skin painfully burning in piercing coldness.

Regardless, his plan had worked, and now he was gazing into the creature's milky eyes. Though, the Dementor seemed to know what he was trying to do, since it stood still, only tightly grasping Orion's throat.

Was the Dementor curious about what he wanted to communicate to it? Was that why it wasn't attacking? Could the thing still feel curiosity?

Orion inwardly shook his head. It didn't matter... And without another hitch of breath, he pushed forward his thoughts, just like Necro Master Vresi had taught him to do.

'_Cadmus_,' he called in his mind, _'You are Cadmus Peverell… remember… Cadmus Peverell, brother of Ignotus and Antioch. Husband of Ursula Black, and beloved of Elois-_'

Abruptly, Orion let out a pained cry as he felt something stabbing and tearing into his mind. He couldn't repress his scream, even though he had been forewarned by Necro Master Vresi. The connection of the Dementor's awareness with his mind was simply too painful, like an ice-pick stabbing through his head, as he felt the creature pushing something into his mind.

A raspy, sharp, chuckle-like sound cut through his thoughts, and Orion's mind was filled by a chaotic myriad of intelligible feelings. It was like being assaulted by a havoc of wild and irrational instincts and emotions, all pouring from the Dementor. He felt a deep, insatiable hunger, plunged in dark coldness, added to a fierce and burning hatred. Such hatred and fury as he had never felt before. And he realized, a bit dizzily, that it was directed at him.

'_Necromancer_,' the word resounded through Orion's mind, the sound hoarse, sharp and painful, as if it were a blunt blade aggressively sinking into his head.

When the Dementor inched his hole-like mouth closer, Orion's eyes widened, fleetingly feeling the survival instinct of fright, something telling him to pull away and cancel the portal. Since at present, inside the portal, he was in control, like any Necromancer. He could bring it down and the Dementor would go away. Nevertheless, Orion pushed the thought away, since the next step of his plan was to take the Dementor out of the portal, so that the creature would see Eloise.

'_Necromancer_,' rasped out the creature in Orion's mind, accompanied by a sharp, merciless chuckle which caused goose-bumps to spread over Orion's skin, '_you have learned much since last time… I have been waiting for this… I knew you would call me again, Sextus…'_

'_Sextus?_' thought Orion wildly, his eyes widening as he stared back into the unseeing milky-eyes which were inches away from his. '_Whoever that is, I am not him. I am-_'

'_I know perfectly well who you are, Sextus,_' resounded hoarsely in his mind, while he saw how the Dementor inched his mouth to his, even closer now. '_I know you better than you know yourself… I feel you… Sextus… I feel what you have, too… It isn't yours, it's mine…'_

Orion realized that Cadmus was referring to the Resurrection Stone, and he dropped his hand from the creature's head, to grip once again his wand, aiming it at the creature.

'_It's mine now-__'_

'_I don't want it,'_ interrupted fiercely the sharp, painful voice in his mind. _'I don't need it any more, Sextus… always taking what is not yours… always killing… Isn't that why you created a portal to summon me, Sextus?'_

'_I'm not Sextus!'_ roared Orion in his mind, frazzled and perplexed, since he didn't know what the creature was talking about.

Moreover, things weren't going according to his plan. It was evident that the Dementor was well-fed to be aware enough to communicate directly into his mind, but the creature was certainly confusing him with someone else. He hadn't expected that. The Dementor was supposed to remember that he was Orion Black, the last living descendant of the main Black line, and thus, someone who the creature would try to Kiss and kill-

'_But I will kill you, Sextus,_' pierced the rasped words into his mind, while the Dementor tightened his fingers around Orion's throat, '_but not before I make you realize who you are… you deserve to know… you deserve to pay for it, for what you did to me…_'

Orion stared at the creature with wide eyes. The thing was mad! He didn't give it a second thought, and the instant that the Dementor swooped down to mesh their mouths together, he released the creature's throat and spread his palm, making his dark magic rush outwards. A blast of black flames shot out, and instantly encircled the creature in a tight mantle of blazing, black fire.

He staggered backwards, away from the creature, while he panted deep breaths. But, suddenly, a sharp, eerie chuckle cut through his mind, and he saw the Dementor gliding through the wall of flames, utterly unscathed.

'_Your strange dark magic does nothing to me, Sextus_,' said a fierce, hoarse voice in his mind. '_You cannot stop me… you never could… and yes, I never cared for you… I despise you, all what you are… all what you did… and your very conception…_'

It happened so quickly, that Orion could do nothing but hastily order his patroni to attack the creature, before it swooped down on him. And several things happened simultaneously: he heard his patroni hissing and melodiously wailing, respectively, when they launched themselves on top of the Dementor and when the creature blasted them away with some invisible force; the creature flung itself against him; he was pinned to the floor; and the hole-like mouth meshed with his, while skeletal hands gripped his head.

Orion's scream of agony was lost inside their locked mouths, while he felt as if his mind was being wrecked apart - something forceful, relentless and fierce digging and tearing. He felt his eyes roll upwards, his body starting to convulse, and something clawing inside of him...

Suddenly, through the blazing, piercing pain which tore through his mind and body, he felt a flicker of awareness bubbling in his mind… It was the strangest sensation, as if something was unrolling inside his head, spreading and encompassing all his thoughts and senses… And he felt as if he was dropping into an endless, dark abyss…

Abruptly, he was flashed by whiteness, and in the next instant, he was on a grand, plush bed. His blood was rushing, his heart thumping in his chest, and he felt heated and unbearably aroused. A moan was ripped from his throat, while his body was spread on the bed, on his stomach, while he felt something hot and hard penetrating him, and brushing against a spot inside him that made him writhe in waves of pleasure.

Someone was thrusting into him, relentlessly, constantly, while he felt a body pressed against his back, and while long, elegant fingers carded and clutched his hair.

"Do you like this?" said a husky, silky voice into his ear. "Do you enjoy when your Master takes you?"

"Yes," he breathed out, turning his face around and staring into intense crimson eyes.

"Yes what, Regulus?" demanded sharply the low, silky voice.

"Yes, Master," he said quietly, and he hated himself for it.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be; this wasn't why he had accepted sharing his Lord's bed. He wanted the wizard's admiration, the recognition of his power and abilities. This wasn't why he had become a Death Eater. He believed in his Lord's magnificence; the wizard would put to right everything that was wrong in the wizarding world, the pureblooded Houses would gain back their influence and glory, and mudbloods would be casted away. And he would be there, standing besides his Lord, helping him, being an Inner Circle Death Eater, the Dark Lord's right hand. And his mother would love him again, and his brother would understand that he was mistaken. And everything would be right, and he would fulfill his destiny, and he would have the Dark Lord's love and admiration, but not this… This wasn't how it was meant to happen…

The crimson eyes glinted with satisfaction, before a cruel, twisted smirk spread over the handsome face, and he felt a savage thrust rocking into his body once again…

Orion screamed and wildly flailed his arms, trying to pull away from whatever was happening… he didn't understand… he couldn't feel much, except the pain of something digging and clawing inside, the weight of the Dementor on top of him, the hole-like mouth working in his, and the darkness that once more gripped his mind… But all he could think was that it wasn't possible, that whatever he had seen and felt wasn't real, that it was implanted there-

'_It's not,_' cut through a raspy, sharp voice into his awareness. '_But be patient, Sextus. We'll get there… to what I want you to remember… but you are an old soul… it might take a while… in the meantime, we'll go through your most painful, past recollections…'_

A hoarse, vicious chuckle ripped through his mind, and he felt as if he was being flung once again into a black pit, before emerging into eerie clarity...

Every muscle in his body ached, his insides burned painfully, he felt his back flowing with blood pouring from the wounds inflicted by the whiplash curse, his long, wavy black hair was plastered on his sweaty forehead, and he could feel the gazes of every Death Eater in the room, staring at his naked, torn body. He was spread on his stomach on a stone altar, with his arms and legs tied by hissing snakes, and with great effort, he raised his face to stare forward.

The Dark Lord was there, elegantly and calmly seated on his throne, the crimson eyes cold, the handsome face he so loved to observe revealed nothing but fury, hatred, and contempt. And that was more painful than anything which had already been done to him. But he shouldn't care about it anymore. He had been foolish. Stupid to not realize that he meant nothing to the Dark Lord, nor to his mother and brother.

But he had known that already, hadn't he? He had known that the Dark Lord had to be stopped as well... when he realized what the Dark Lord's plans were, when he had found the Dark Lord's diary, and then researched to understand what it was. When he took the time to find another horcrux, and investigate the Dark Lord's past – the wizard had been a half-blood, no less. Such hypocrisy, such lies, such manipulations… He had been repulsed by all of it, and by his naiveté.

Regardless, in the end, he –Regulus Alphard Black- had won over the Dark Lord, the wizard from which he had yearned love and affection. Such idiocy on his part. He inwardly smiled, since it was painful to do it outwardly. Yes, he had bested the Dark Lord. Oh, the wizard had finally found out that he had seen the diary, that he knew about the horcruxes, and this was his punishment. But the Dark Lord didn't know that he had found the locket in the cave, that he had taken it and supplanted it by a fake one, and that he had hidden the locket in his bedroom. He had successfully occluded all that. Pity that he hadn't had the time to destroy the locket with the basilisk poison he had bought; he had been summoned just before he could do it. It didn't matter, though, even if he knew that he was going to die. Someone else would find out about it, and would destroy it. Someone else would finish his task...

"Lucius," said the Dark Lord commandingly.

He dropped his head, shivering in the coldness of the chamber, and tightly clenched his jaw, feeling a surge of hatred mingled with anguish. The Dark Lord knew him too well. The other rapes had been painful torture on his young and once smooth body, yes, but the other Death Eaters meant nothing to him. But having Lucius rape him was another matter entirely. This was now psychological torture, since Lucius had been the first with whom he had ever experimented with sex, three years ago, before Lucius graduated from Hogwarts two years before him.

After all, besides the Dark Lord, Lucius had been his only lover; as handsome, charmingly enticing, and sexually skilled as the Dark Lord. Yet so different. With Lucius, there had been affection and a friendship, even if the wizard was meant to marry his cousin Narcissa. He liked her too, so there had been no ill-will against her or against Lucius' decision of marrying her to follow his parent's plans.

He shuddered when he heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and he felt warm fingers clutching his naked hips. Unlike the others', Lucius' grip wasn't painful, but gentle, and he inwardly panicked, hoping that the young wizard wouldn't show mercy or tenderness. The Dark Lord would punish Lucius as well, if the wizard did that.

The penetration was harsh, and he inwardly sighed with relief, resting his cheek against the cold stone of the altar, and tightly closing his eyes. He barely felt pain anymore; his torn entrance was bloodied and it helped lubricate the thrusts, and his body was by now in such agony that one more rape didn't add that much pain to it.

He felt Lucius' silky, platinum hair caressing his wounded shoulder, and abruptly, he had to bite his lip when he felt a surge of pleasure with the next thrust. What was the fool doing? But it continued, Lucius kept ramming into that spot inside him which filled him with pleasure, and he bit down his tongue and pulled a blank expression over his face, not revealing anything to the Dark Lord who was intently gazing at him. But he ended inwardly thanking Lucius for it. He knew what his former lover was doing; giving him pleasure without letting it be known – it was Lucius' only way of saying farewell. And he was grateful, since even though Lucius wouldn't sacrifice his own life to save him –which would be staggeringly stupid, for it would only mean Lucius' death as well as his own- it told him that Lucius did care for him; for what they had once shared, he supposed.

Suddenly, he felt Lucius' release coating the insides of his entrance, and the wizard's fingers momentarily caressed his hips with a soft touch, before standing way. Then he heard the sound of a zipper going up, and he sagged against the stone altar to which he was bounded, wondering when the Dark Lord would kill him. He didn't think he could take much more.

"Severus," said the Dark Lord's voice in a low, silky tone.

And he could detect the hint of cruelty in it; this time directed at Severus, he knew that. This was another test for Severus, to see if the wizard would participate in this torture. And he fleetingly felt for the wizard, knowing that it would be unbearable for Severus, but that the wizard would do it nonetheless. This was another psychological punishment for him as well. It seemed that the Dark Lord had kept the only two people he cared about for last. Lucius, once briefly his lover, and Severus, the only real friend he had made in Slytherin House.

He opened his blood-shot eyes, and side-glanced at the young wizard. Even through Severus' Death Eater mask, he could tell that the wizard had paled. He knew there was no way that Severus would ever be aroused: the wizard liked women, and didn't have a sadistic streak, but the wizard was a sly survivor as well. Nevertheless, he surreptitiously shot his friend a faint smile, and that seemed to do the trick – it was his express command for Severus to go ahead and obey. He didn't want Severus to be punished over this. He just wanted it to be over, and to die.

Severus' obsidian eyes turned cold, and he inwardly sighed with relief once again, while he saw the wizard surreptitiously casting a wandless lust charm on himself.

Again, the sound of a zipper going down… he had lost count of how many times that had happened during that evening… a body pressing against his back, and a painful thrust into his body… But no pleasure; Severus clearly didn't know what he was doing. The wizard had certainly never bedded another wizard… The thrusts were unskilled, unsure, and involuntarily more painful than normal… Fleetingly, he wished to experience Lucius' perfectly-skilled and pleasurable love-making again…

Regardless, he dropped his head on the stone altar, and made his mind travel away from his surroundings, away from the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, of the cruel and mocking jeers of the other Death Eaters, and above all, away from the crimson eyes observing him ever so coldly and hatefully.

Instead, he made himself think about his friend, perhaps his only true one. Severus was just nineteen, one year out of Hogwarts, like himself, and the wizard had been a tough housemate to befriend... Always a loner, always pinning for that upstart, filthy mudblood Lily Evans, always being the punch-bag of his brother's pathetic band of friends who called themselves the Marauders - such an inanely ridiculous name that could have only come out from a moronic Gryffindor's mind… And that was precisely why he had befriended Severus, to go against Sirius, to try to garner his brother's attention… Not that it had worked. Sirius had just ignored him as usual, happy to be with his carefree friends, content in rebelling against family and turning into a bloodtraitor, never caring about who he had left behind – him, his own brother…

Oh, but he missed Sirius… He had always missed his older brother, who he had admired since they were little boys… And he had written to him, just two days ago, before getting the Slytherin locket today, but Sirius had never replied… No doubt that his brother was currently cozy in James Potter's house, probably with the mudblood as well… That couple would surely end up married… Well, good riddance to them; a light pureblood marrying a mudblood. Pathetic, disgusting… But why hadn't Sirius replied? He had wanted to tell him that he wanted out. That he didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore… Not that he would join Dumbledore. Yuck. No, but he wanted to be his own man, he wanted to go his own way… To destroy the horcrux and… And what? There was something there, in his mind, which eluded him. He didn't know anymore… He was tired, in agony, he wanted everything to simply end once and for all… The horcrux wasn't his problem anymore, he had found it and taken it, that was enough… Someone would destroy it, and the rest of horcruxes… Well, it wasn't his burden any more… But he did want to see Sirius one last time…

He inwardly shook his head, wondering if all these ponderings was what usually happened when one was confronted with imminent death. He supposed it was, for he couldn't stop thinking about his life; about the nineteen years of his existence, and how he had been ridiculously idealistic at first... Graduating from Hogwarts with excellent grades, trying to make his parents care for him, instead of them bemoaning the loss and betrayal of Sirius, and then valiantly deciding that he wanted to be a Death Eater, that he would be what his mother had wanted Sirius to be. Stupid.

And then... Oh, that had been the highlight of his life, once... Then, meeting the Dark Lord for the first time, when he was eighteen, fresh out of Hogwarts. How he had been captivated by the Dark Lord's aura of power, by the wizard's charm, the man's vision and magnificence. Yes, he supposed he had fallen in love. What an idiot…

Abruptly, a sharp, painful thrust rocked into his body and he let out a grunt of pain. He heard derisive chuckles, and closed his eyes tightly. Damn Severus' inexperience! Oh, it seemed the wizard was done… Thank Merlin for that, because he couldn't take much more-

'Use it! Glance down! Use it, for your sake… for my sake, Regulus...'

He snapped his eyes open, but didn't look anywhere, so that the Dark Lord wouldn't notice. He recognized that voice! Severus had used his unparalleled skills in Legilimency to speak into his mind... Distantly, he heard the Dark Lord commanding someone else to take the place that Severus had left… more raping… the Dark Lord wasn't done with him, then… Nevertheless, when he felt it was safe, when the Dark Lord's attention was turned to another Death Eater, he glanced down.

There, lying inconspicously on the floor, next to the altar, he saw it: a small, sharp piece of glass, wandlessly conjured by Severus, no doubt about that. He briefly closed his eyes, feeling tears brimming in them; tears he didn't want to shed, for they would be taken as weakness. But they weren't caused by pain, anguish, or anything of the sort. They were caused by a warm feeling clutching his chest, by his gratefulness towards Severus, who had given him a way out: to die on his own terms, and not by being killed by the wizard he had once naively fallen in love with.

This was it. Suddenly, he felt the weirdest thing: a feeling of peace, certainty, and fierce, ecstatic determination. This would be the culmination of his short, young life, but he felt no sorrow. He would rid the Dark Lord of one more thing: his death.

He momentarily closed his eyes, ignoring the thrusts which had started once again, and he invested every drop of magic in himself, every last measure of strength and effort, to summon as much magic as he could. Wandless magic was something he could occasionally do, but it wasn't easy; he never had the opportunity of practicing and developing it much. Regardless, he put all his will on it... And, suddenly, he felt his body brimming with a potent spike of power.

Finally, with his legs and arms still bound by hissing snakes to the stone altar, he sharply raised his head and stared right into the crimson eyes observing him.

The Dark Lord seemed momentarily startled; perhaps the expression on his face was one of ruthless determination, perhaps the wizard didn't think that his 'pet' was able of such show of conviction and confidence. How mistaken the wizard was. The Dark Lord had never known anything about him, never truly taken an interest.

Fooled all of them, he had. He had kept all his deepest secrets, he knew he had taken all the precautions, he was certain. And the Dark Lord hadn't been able to break through all his Occlumency barriers during the punishment - Severus had taught him well. The Dark Lord hadn't seen how he had gone to the cave, how he had swaped lockets... Everyone was safe, everything was as he had planned...

He smirked at the Dark Lord, even if the Death Eater behind him was thrusting brutally into him. He widened his smirk, piercing his dark gray eyes into the Dark Lord's crimson ones, and he saw those eyes slightly widening. Yes… do ask yourself why I'm smirking, why I'm not afraid…

He opened his mouth, his gaze locked with the Dark Lord's, and he said in a hoarse yet loud, firm voice, "This is nothing. This isn't me losing, or you humiliating and punishing me. This isn't the end of me. And you'll find, someday, that you were bested by me."

His lips spread into a true smile, and he added exultantly, "Death is only the beginning."

And then, just when the Dark Lord must have realized that he was about to do something, he wandlessly made the sharp shard of glass sink into his throat. It sunk painfully, and he made it dig deeper and slash across his throat. He felt gushes of blood pouring from his throat… He couldn't speak anymore, he felt blissfully faint and relaxed… He heard yells, he thought to recognize Lucius' voice among them, but he only concentrated on the crimson eyes.

The Dark Lord had stood up, he was aiming his wand at him, no doubt trying to close the wound, no doubt not wanting him to die by his own means, but it was too late… He felt himself entering the blackness of unconsciousness, of death… And the last thing he saw was the crimson eyes, which flashed with something he couldn't clearly decipher. Was there regret there? Was there a slight modicum of some emotion? Hadn't it been the Dark Lord's plan to kill him in the end?

But he didn't care about that anymore… and he felt himself blissfully fading away…

Orion screamed, he yelled wildly, frenziedly, while what he had experienced, felt, seen and heard sunk into his mind, as he understood the implications of it… He felt shocked by it, shaken as he had never been before, as if a bludger had rocked his world off its axis…

'_No, no,_' cut through a raspy voice through his mind, '_We aren't done yet, Sextus… Be patient… I'll show you…'_

Orion started sinking into a dark pit once again, but he frantically fought against it. He couldn't experience something like that again. He didn't want to know! No one was supposed to ever know about his past lives! He would go mad… He hadn't known that a Dementor had the power to do this… No Necromancer could do it, either. They could only make souls, summoned from the spiritual plane, remember their past lives, but they couldn't do that to a living wizard…

And Regulus… he had been Regulus Black… an uncle he had occasionally mourned not having known or met…

No, he couldn't think about that at present! About the impossibility, about the strangeness of it, about the earth-shattering implications of it… Everything in him rebelled against what was being forced into his mind - that narrowed abyss which would take him to remember more, probably of some other life he had previously had, about one of his soul's reincarnations… Everything in him fought against it; he felt his dark magic surging violently in him, he felt his Necromantic powers consuming him, magnified by the Resurrection Stone he was wearing…

He felt the Dementor's hole-like mouth pressing insistently on his, the creature's skeletal fingers gripping his head tighter… But a flicker of his own present awareness cut through the blackness of his mind, and he violently flailed his arms and legs, his eyes gazing frantically around him… The patroni had vanished at some point, since without being aware of them, he couldn't have maintained them…

Therefore, in an instant, he spread open one palm, buckling wildly under the Dementor, and he yelled as powerfully as he could, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

This time, the Basilisk and Phoenix, seeming reenergized, shot from his extended palm and crushed right into the Dementor. The wraith-like creature was forced away from him, and Orion instantly crouched on his hands and knees, his eyes watery, his throat aching, his breath heavy pants for air, and his mind a messy, wrecked havoc of emotions and memories wrapped in a turmoil of rampaging, frantic thoughts.

With great effort, but thanks to the discipline of his skill in Occlumency, he forced all of that away from his mind. Now was not the time to analyze and confront what the Dementor had made him experience. Now was the time to end what he came there to do.

Breathing haggardly, he quickly stood up, his all-black eyes blazing with a fury he hadn't felt in a long time.

'_You want me to remember,_' he heatedly spat in his mind, knowing that the Dementor would hear it, since he hadn't cancelled the Necromantic spell between them. '_You want me to know who I was… this Sextus you keep mentioning… But I don't care about that! Whoever I was, whatever I did to you, it was my past reborn self. Not I! And you have done much to me as well – you took my father. You want to kill me, and I want to kill you, as you very well know by now. So try it. And let's see who wins!'_

And without wasting more time, he mentally ordered his patroni to back away from the creature, and he quickly ran out of the summoning portal made by his Necromantic magic. He didn't have to look back to know that the Dementor had followed him out of it, since the creature probably knew very well that, outside the portal, he couldn't make the creature go away. The Dementor would see it as an advantage.

As soon as he stood feet away from the portal, Orion spun around and aimed his wand at the Dementor, who was quickly gliding towards him. Not too far behind, the patroni followed, but he made them float still, nearby.

'_My mistake_,' resounded a hoarse voice in his mind, sharply painful, fierce and curt. '_You are more powerful than I suspected… more strong-willed… No point now in trying to make you remember, Sextus…'_

The Dementor was now a few paces away from him, and to Orion, the creature seemed to be piercing him with its blind, milky eyes.

'_Do you feel it?'_ echoed the raspy voice in his head, its tone low, almost soft.

'_Feel what, Cadmus?'_ spat Orion in his mind, with a tight grip on his wand, still aiming it at the wraith-like creature. _'For you know that you are Cadmus Peverell, don't you?'_

A harsh chuckle bounced in his mind, making Orion slightly cringe, and the Dementor's voice poured forward, _'I know who I am, Sextus. But I can't say the same about you… Pity… But I was talking about the souls, Sextus… Do you feel them, in me? I know you must, since you are wearing my Stone, my precious Hallow…'_

Without having realized it, Orion found that the Dementor was now inches away from him. But not in a threatening posture; it was simply hovering in front of him. And he shivered as he felt the creature's eerie, dark aura pressing on him. Orion's breath was slowly coming out as puffs of air which condensed in their cold surroundings, and he felt again that inexorable hunger… Whatever the Dementor was doing, it was working, for he felt attracted to the creature, as if it held a warmth he needed… Something enticing which would abate his desire, his hunger, his thirst…

'_Given your show of power, and the way you were able to break through it,_ _I think I won't kill you_,' rasped out the creature's voice in his mind, '_You could be much more useful in other ways… And perhaps, this ending would be more fitting for you… To be with me…'_

Orion frowned, not quite understanding, but the strange numbness and haziness wrapping his mind seemed to freeze any rational thought. He could only feel a mesmerizing need… the hunger… while the Gaunt ring took hold of him again… He mightily fought against it, as he had learned to do with Grindelwald, trying to control himself… But as the Dementor inched its hole-like mouth closer to his, he felt his determination caving in… He felt himself yielding to what the Dementor was offering… He knew what was happening, but this time, he didn't fight back, since what the Dementor did didn't feel threatening, and his dark magic didn't rise in him in self-defense, as usual.

When the creature pressed its hole-like mouth into his, Orion welcomed it, feeling the enticing, promised warmth in it, even though he felt a burning, icy pain on his lips. A peaceful, embracing feeling took over his mind, and he could only feel the Dementor's cloaked and skeletal arms tightly surrounding his body, as their mouths locked together and skeletal fingers carded, almost lovingly, through his hair. Orion felt a frisson of fear, of rational revulsion, but it flickered away in the instant that he felt something glowing from the Dementor; a warmth building between them.

His all-black gaze dropped down, and over their locked mouths, he saw the middle of the Dementor's body glowing in whiteness. He discerned an intense ball of white light filtering through the creature's cloak - a whirlwind of meshed, ethereal shapes; ghostly faces, arms, legs, hands… Distantly, he heard their eerie voices, wails, and pleadings… from the souls trapped inside the Dementor… He even thought to recognize his father's voice among them, but it didn't quite register in his mind. He only felt a blazing spike of desire, while the Dementor kept meshing its hole-like mouth into his.

'_Take some of them__,'_ said a low, raspy voice in his mind, its tone lulling and soft, _'Feed, Necromancer. Join me, Sextus… I know you hunger for them… You need them, to make that empty coldness go away…'_

'_Yes,'_ mumbled Orion in his mind, feeling a detached sense of peacefulness embracing him, while something warm and enticing pressed against his lips.

He saw the creature's exposed, skeletal throat glowing in whiteness, something exquisite travelling through it – a soul, he realized. A soul being offered to him, to pass through their locked mouths, and flow into his being. He could take it… Orion momentarily closed his eyes, while he felt the Dementor's arms tighten around him, something insistently being pushed against his lips.

Yes, he could take it, and he knew what would happen. But it could serve his purposes, couldn't it? If he took a soul into his body, under the influence of the Resurrection Stone, he would live off it, slowly consuming that soul, and he would become something similar to a Dementor, but not truly one… But he would be powerful, as well. Very powerful… And that was what he needed. After all, he would need to kill Grindelwald to obtain the wizard's dark magic – the same unique dark magic as his- but he wouldn't kill Voldemort for it. So he needed another source of power. He wanted to become a full-fledged Necromancer in order to accomplish that; in order to be powerful enough to survive the Vindico test, and not need to kill another Dark Lord, besides Grindelwald, for it. But this was just as good as, or even better, than becoming a full-fledged Necromancer… Yes, it was…

Orion closed his eyes, and slowly crept a hand along the Dementor's rotted, skeletal neck, and he tightly grabbed the creature's nape. And without pondering about it any longer, with his mind encompassed by a hazy, detached pit of peacefulness and numbness, he opened his mouth wide open, pressing against the Dementor's.

Instantly, he felt an exquisite, blazing warmth starting to pour into mouth, while skeletal fingers smoothly carded his hair, as if cooing a child.

"NO! STOP IT!"

The desperate, eerie, potent scream pierced through his awareness, and something abruptly pulled him away from his source of enticing warmth.

Haggardly gasping for breath, with his heart thumping wildly in his chest, Orion stared with wide eyes at the scene before him, shaking his head repeatedly, clearing it, and trying to understand what had happened. Whatever influence the Dementor had had over him, it had vanished. He still felt the hunger, caused by the Gaunt ring he was wearing, but he could control it now, as he had practiced with Grindelwald.

Whatever hold the creature had over his mind had faded away, and now, aware of himself, Orion gazed at the two figures in front of him. The Dementor hovered in mid air, still as a stone statue, while Eloise Talbot's spirit stood between them. Immediately, he realized that she had been who had pulled them apart; that she had interceded so that he wouldn't take in a soul and become a Dementor-like creature.

Shakily, he let out a heavy breath, surprised at the Dementor's powers, and admitting his own weakness. But he felt no shame in that. He knew very well that Cadmus was the most powerful Dementor of existence, since he was the first one, the oldest one.

"Eloise," said a raspy voice, very low and faint, and it sounded painfully longing and yearning.

Orion's eyes widened. The Dementor had spoken, with great effort, it seemed, but the creature had done it. The wraith-like thing was powerful indeed.

"Yes, it's me, Cadmus," said Eloise softly, her ethereal, doe-like eyes gazing at the Dementor.

Orion could tell that she was scared, horrified even, as she stared at the skeletal, inhuman, shriveled and rotten face of the Dementor, who still had its hood down.

Abruptly, the Dementor swiftly swooped down on him, like a being bent on furious, murdering revenge. But this time, Orion was prepared, and he made his patroni jump in between them. And they hissed and sharply cried, ramming against the Dementor.

'_You did this!'_ painfully cut through his mind a hoarse, raging voice, while the Dementor seemed to be too crazed to even battle the patroni, which kept pounding into it, shoving the creature away from Orion. _'You summoned her - I'll kill you for this, Sextus!'_

"STOP!" yelled Eloise, her voice teary but loud, and pleading. "Don't attack him! He's not to blame for anything, Cadmus. Look at me. LOOK AT ME!"

The Dementor turned towards her, and Orion could see its cloaked, emaciated frame shaking tremulously, and he inwardly smirked with triumph. He knew the cause of Cadmus' wrath towards him, he knew the reason why the Dementor was trembling, and he had counted on it happening. The Dementor felt a constant hunger for souls, Eloise's included, and even for more reason since her spirit glowed in a pure, untarnished whiteness, and since he had loved her and wanted her, obsessively. The situation was perfect; just what he had wanted to happen. And now was his time to act. Moreover, he felt no pity or commiseration towards Cadmus, not after what the Dementor had made him experience.

'_Do you feel her, Cadmus?'_ he said in his mind, in a silky, entincing voice. '_She's beautiful, isn't she? So pure, so gentle, her soul so exquisite… Imagine what it would feel to take her… Imagine what it would feel to be finally joined with her… With her soul in you… This is what you have always wanted, longed for… Her, with you… Take her, and she'll be with you, forever…'_

'_No!' _spat a raspy voice in his mind, thought the Dementor was still turned towards Eloise, not seeing her, because the creature couldn't, but surely sensing her and not wanting to lose that. '_Send her back to the spiritual plane! Sextus, send her away!' _The creature shuddered. _'Please, Sextus…'_

Orion inwardly smirked. Oh yes, Cadmus wouldn't be able to help himself. The hunger wouldn't allow Cadmus to ignore such a soul, the Dementor wouldn't be able to resist.

"Cadmus," said Eloise gently, her ghostly eyes watery while she beseechingly spread her hands forwards. "Please, end this madness. This isn't you, my beloved. Come with me, as you should have done long ago. Please-"

"Leave!" rasped out the Dementor shakily, its cloaked, skeletal body, still glowing with the souls it had inside, violently trembling. "Eloise, leave… I beseech you… I can't… control it."

A puzzled frown spread over Eloise's ethereal face, before she said gently, "Come with me-"

"This is Sextus!" said the Dementor hoarsely, pointing a grayish, skeletal finger at Orion. "He tricked you… he planned for this… He is Sextus!"

Eloise's ghostly, doe-like eyes widened as her gaze flickered to Orion, intently inspecting him. She must have understood something, for she turned to face the Dementor again, and said softly, "I believe you, but it doesn't matter, Cadmus. Sextus isn't to blame for anything. What you did was of your own accord, following your wishes. He had nothing to do with it. In fact, you should be the one apologizing to him, Cadmus, for not being there for him - I told you, you should have. " She shook her head, a sad, sorrowful expression spreading over her face, and she moved closer to the Dementor. "Please, my beloved, come with me…"

Orion frowned – Sextus, again. That name rang a bell. He had seen or read it somewhere, but he couldn't clearly remember where. Nevertheless, he pushed away all the questions that popped into his mind, about Sextus and who that was and what had happened between Sextus, Eloise and Cadmus. Instead, he occupied his time in silkily whispering persuasions into his mind, which would be heard by the Dementor, while Eloise kept beseechingly talking to the creature.

'_Take her,'_ he said inwardly, his voice a smooth, soft, persuading trill. '_Kiss her, Cadmus. Don't fight what you are, don't fight your desires. Accept what you are, what you became, and fulfill your wishes. It has been centuries without her, Cadmus… All those centuries alone, yearning for her… Wishing to see her, but you didn't dare to show yourself as you are now; a Dementor, something she must have feared… But don't you feel it? She doesn't fear you, Cadmus… She wants you, even though she's seen you like this…'_

He saw the Dementor inching closer to Eloise, gliding in halting, jerky movements, as if fighting against something. And quickly, he wandlessly accioed the translation of Cadmus' journal, opened it in the middle, and read a personal passage with his mind's voice.

'_When a vague murmur echoes confused behind my back, and I believe a distant voice has called my name, I know that in the shadows about me, it is you who calls. In the depth of the night, when my heart is troubled and grieved, and I feel on my lips the touch of a tender breath, and I know that, unseen at my side, it is you who breathes.' _

He paused, before adding smoothly,_ 'It doesn't have to be that way, Cadmus. You can have her for real… Let me tell you more about what you felt…' _He flipped some pages of the book, and continued,_ 'I know what despair and unhappiness is; it's to love with all the consuming fierceness of my soul, to feel that I would give my blood, my last breath, my immortality and eternity, this life and the other, just to embrace you day and night, in my dreams and thoughts...'_

Orion glanced up and saw that the Dementor was a pace away from Eloise, while she stared at the creature with watery, pleading eyes, and he immediately said in his mind, _'You lost her, but she's here now, Cadmus. Embrace her - take her! Kiss her-'_

Suddenly, a sharp, hoarse screech seemed to rip from the Dementor's throat, and Orion involuntary shuddered when he heard the anguished sorrow and self-hatred in it, just when the creature swooped down on Eloise's ethereal spirit.

She looked startled, and horrified, and tried to fight against the Dementor, but Orion already knew it was a lost battle. He merely inwardly rolled his eyes at her romantic naiveté. Had she expected Cadmus, out of love, to simply go through the Gate with her, instead of consuming her? Meanwhile, he firmly stood in place, waiting for that crucial moment, his all-black, cold gaze fixed on them.

Then, it happened: the Dementor locked its hole-like mouth to Eloise's ghostly lips, and she let out a piercing cry, before her ethereal shape started losing shape, as her soul began to flow into Cadmus' mouth.

Instantly, Orion spread his right hand before him, and quietly said the welsh incantation he had learned from Cadmus' journal.

"Tywyll anrhegu mi y cyfoeth am y Trais am Marwolaeth…"

It was the same spell he had used to free the Resurrection Stone from Voldemort's piece of soul, and to trap that Tom into the Black heirloom necklace he had given to Voldemort afterwards. It was an amazingly versatile Necromantic spell which allowed him to manipulate souls in infinite ways… Just like he saw himself doing in his visions, when he killed Voldemort and when he used his Necromantic powers in battle, to rip souls from enemies…

He shook his head, clearing it from such thoughts, and raised his voice, as he finished the chant, "Anrhegu mi y Llaw am Marwolaeth!"

He immediately felt his dark magic and Necromantic powers rushing inside him, in surging waves, spurred by the Gaunt ring. And in the blink of an eye, a burst of glowing, black magic spread over his hand, forming the Hand of Death, the 'Llaw am Marwolaeth'.

A shudder of ecstatic pleasure ran down his spine, as he felt the magnificence of his power swirling inside him. And without wasting any more time, he swiftly approached the Dementor, fixedly gazing at the creature. Cadmus was still trembling, his skeletal, rotten head slightly bowed downwards, but Eloise wasn't there anymore. He could see a glow inside the creature, even more intense than before, the light surging through the creature's cloak. And he distinguished the details of the swirling orb of souls; the ghostly, twisted faces, the limbs and hands, all knotted together.

"Father!" he called loudly, since he knew that his father's soul would be able to hear him, just like it had happened during his Necromancy test.

Abruptly, the Dementor raised its head, its milky, blind eyes seemingly piercing him, while it swiftly glided towards him. Without much thought, Orion made the patroni stand between them, without attacking, but defensively blocking the Dementor's path. He was almost done with Cadmus, and he wouldn't waste time by battling him.

"Sirius! DAD!" he bellowed hastily, with his glowing black hand spread towards the middle of the Dementor, aiming at the bundle of meshed souls.

He saw the Dementor and his patroni fighting against each other, but Cadmus didn't seem to put much effort on it, since Orion knew that the Dementor had the power to blast them away, but the creature didn't do it.

Suddenly, a ghostly figure partly came out of the swirling, whitish, glowing whirlpool of souls, fiercely struggling to rip away from the rest of humanoid shapes. He saw a ghostly white hand frantically trying to reach him, as the ethereal face became less distorted; his father's features quickly gaining definition, as it reached out with an ethereal hand...

"Orion?" whispered Sirius' soul, while its ghostly eyes intently gazed at him, as if trying to discern if he was truly his son.

"Yes," said Orion exultantly, "I'm older, Dad. But it's me!"

Feeling a rush of thrilling triumph, he instantly pushed his Necromantic powers outwards, pouring them from his fingertips, creating a phantasmagorical black hand of vibrating power which emulated the movements of his own hand. As he kept pouring out his magic, he saw the black Hand of Death swiftly expanding, powerfully. This time, he had the means, power and knowledge to rescue his father. And he felt such a feeling of victorious accomplishment that he almost wept with joy, while he plunged the Hand of Death into the Dementor. He made it rip into the glowing ball of souls, and tightly clutch the 'body' of his father's soul, while he used his real left hand to grab the ghostly hand his father had reached out.

With fierce determination, he balled the fingers of his right hand, as if grasping something in the air, and he saw the black hand of Necromantic magic doing the same, gripping the soul of his father out of the Dementor. At the same time, he used his left hand to pull on his father's ethereal hand, and he saw the complete soul of his father coming out, while hearing a joyous cry resounding through the chamber – his father's amazed, thrilled, and rambunctious laughter.

And that sound filled him with a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time: true, pure, unadulterated, and carefree happiness.

It was out, completely, and Orion gazed at his father's floating soul with tears brimming in his eyes, inspecting every inch of the glowing, white shape. It was mostly perfectly defined, just slightly and minimally frayed on some edges, but he knew that it wouldn't be too consequential. His father's soul was complete, the time spent inside the Dementor, being slowly consumed, hadn't been long enough to cause any significant damage to the soul.

Sirius' ghostly, wide eyes glanced around, wildly. "Pup, what-?"

"No time to explain," said Orion urgently. "Later. And, please, go along with the magic I'll use."

Sirius nodded, with a perplexed expression of puzzled wonder on his ethereal face, and Orion peeled his gaze away from him to glance at the Dementor. He deeply frowned when he saw that Cadmus was hovering in mid-air, blocked from him by the patroni, but not attacking them any longer. The creature's milky white eyes merely seemed to be piercing him, even though Orion knew that it wasn't possible. Though the Dementor could surely feel and understand what was happening.

Regardless, pushing any suspicions away from his mind, Orion turned to the task-at-hand, and he swiftly made the glowing Hand of Death encompass his father's soul. Then, with it, he created a protective orb of blackness around the soul, before he made it float on top of his father's body, several feet away from Cadmus and him.

Deeply satisfied, Orion turned around to gaze at the Dementor.

'_You had all of this planned,'_ pierced a raspy voice through his mind,_ 'for me to take her soul.'_

Orion arched an eyebrow, as he detected the wrecking dejection and sorrow in the creature's words. Suddenly, and quite against his will, he felt a pang of commiseration for the Dementor. Through the wizard's journal, he had come to know the man very well, to experience, first-hand, Cadmus' emotions. Regardless, he ruthlessly crushed any empathy and pity, and stared right back at him.

'_I did,'_ nonchalantly said Orion in his mind, not bothering to conceal his smugness.

After all, despite the unforeseeable glitches in his plan, everything had worked out just as he had devised. He had known, from that start, that he wouldn't be able to defeat a Dementor like Cadmus with power –not with his Necromantic abilities or with his dark magic- but with slyness and manipulations. Intellect over power, in this case, worked better.

'_I will kill you for this, Sextus. For what you made me do to Eloise.'_

In a fraction of a second, the Dementor swiftly flew towards him, in a crazed, wrathful manner, which made Orion perceive the creature's murdering hatred towards him. But, immediately, he made the patroni ram violently against the creature, while he danced away from the attack, letting out a harsh bark of laughter.

'_What I made you do, Cadmus?_' he said silkily in his mind, still sharply laughing. '_You were the one who couldn't fight your hunger, who took her soul into yourself, not I._' He smirked at the Dementor, and added loftily, '_Regardless, I bear her no ill-will. It isn't my wish for you to end up utterly destroying her. You have a chance of saving her soul, still._'

He pointed at the Gate behind the Dementor, and continued calmly, '_Don't waste any time trying to kill me, Cadmus. I will retaliate, and with the Resurrection Stone, I'm powerful enough to withstand any attack of yours for quite some time. In that meanwhile, you'll be slowly consuming her soul. And you don't want that, do you? Your poor beloved... There's only one way in which you can free her soul from you. Only one way in which she can go back into the spiritual plane, unharmed.'_ He intently pierced the wraith-like creature with his glowing, all-black eyes, and said firmly, '_Go through the Necromancer's Gate, Cadmus. Only like that, will you save her.'_

'_My existence, for her soul – for the lives she has yet to live_,' said a hoarse mind in Orion's mind. '_I see. This is what you wanted all along; for me to enter the Gate, willingly. Clever and very cunning, Sextus, as always…' _

Absolute, pressing silence spread between them, and finally, the Dementor's milky eyes seemed to bore into his, while the creature rasped out into his mind, _'Patricide – one more thing to add to your list, Sextus… Though, I'm not surprised...' _

A skeletal finger peeked from the creature's cloak, pointing at the black orb containing Sirius' soul, and a sharp, mirthless chuckle painfully resounded through Orion's mind. _'A father for a father.' _

At those words, Orion's eyes impossibly widened and he stood rooted in place, shocked into stillness, while he saw Cadmus swiftly gliding and plunging, without any other words, into the breezy, undulating veil of the Necromancer's Gate.

He stood in silent inaction, his glowing all-black eyes wide and unseeing, while his mind was frenziedly assaulted by a havoc of thoughts… And suddenly, everything clicked in place, as Cadmus' words finally made sense to him.

_Always taking what i__s not yours… I never cared for you… I despise you, all what you are… and your very conception… you are an old soul… Patricide… A father for a father…_

And finally, he remembered where he had seen the name 'Sextus'. Orion gasped, horrified, and his knees threatened to buckle under him. But he hastily forced himself to pull it together, not quite knowing what to feel anymore... Since, now, he remembered that he had seen the name 'Sextus Black' at the top of the tapestry in Grimmauld's Place; it was the first name in the main branch of the Black line – not of the bloodline of Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda, but of Sirius' and his. Sextus Black had to have been the son of Cadmus Peverell and Ursula Black. The son Cadmus had despised, since Sextus wasn't Cadmus's son with Eloise Talbot. And Sextus had been the person who, undoubtedly, had taken the Resurrection Stone from Cadmus, at some point.

He had never paused to wonder how the Hallow had passed down along the Black line, even though he had known that Cadmus would have never departed from it, and much less given it to any Black descendant. Now, he knew. Sextus, in life, must have searched for his father, finding Cadmus in Glen Mulag village, and probably finding a once again resurrected Eloise Talbot with him. Clearly, it happened some centuries before Salazar Slytherin went in search for a Necromancer to answer his questions, to that very same village. Whatever had happened, Sextus must have stolen the Resurrection Stone from Cadmus; perhaps trying to help his father, or just not wanting Cadmus to keep trying to bring back to life his half-blood mistress.

Regardless, he understood the most important implication: he was an old soul, with countless past lives. He had been Sextus, the patriarch and first Head of the Main Black House, and most recently, he had been Regulus Black.

Orion shuddered, and tightly wrapped his arms around himself. This was knowledge he shouldn't have. No one alive should know about their past lives. It was dangerous, and with the potential of driving him insane, if the matter started to obsess him… How many others had he been? What had he done in his other lives? Patricide, like Cadmus said he had done at present?

He tightly clenched his jaw, feeling a pang of something he didn't want to feel – slight anguish and regretful sorrow, since Cadmus had been right. By leaving no other option to the Dementor, he had forced Cadmus into killing himself... Ultimately, he had killed Sextus' father… Someone who had once been _his_ father… Mercilessly using Cadmus' lingering love for Eloise against him...

He fiercely shook his head. He wasn't Sextus, nor Regulus! Not anymore. And he wouldn't shed a single tear over Cadmus' death, or feel any useless compunction. What he had done had been 'a father of a past life in exchange for a father of his real, present life'. He truly didn't regret it. He would have done the same even if he had known that he had been Sextus Black.

But something else still made him feel uneasy, immensely perturbing him; it was the pattern and speedily transition of his soul into its rebirths. Souls were supposed to take a long time in being reincarnated, and yet, if he remembered correctly, Regulus had died almost a whole year before his own birth. Meaning, that two or three months had passed, at most, between Regulus' death and when his parents really conceived him; when Lily Evans had become pregnant by Sirius Black. Such swift rebirth of a soul was unheard of…

It filled him with misgivings… Something didn't feel natural about that quick transition… And, also, the reincarnations were along the same bloodline; at least the rebirths which started from Sextus, then, millennia afterwards, into Regulus and himself… No, something definitely wasn't right… It seemed – forced. Though he knew that there was no power, or being on Earth, with the capacity of influencing rebirths…

Orion's mind swamped with speculations, but at last, he forced it to clear. And finally, he peeled his gaze from the Necromancer's Gate he had been unseeingly staring at, ever since Cadmus had crossed it. He firmly clenched his jaw, ruthlessly washed away any lingering sorrow, and swiftly turned towards the orb containing his father's soul.

This, the present, was what mattered. Not who he had been and what he had done. Though, he would keep it in mind. There was, undoubtedly, something strange about his rebirths. And also, something significant that he had realized from the memories that the Dementor had forced him to experience, from his past life as Regulus Black… Oh, yes, he would definitely have to dig into that… And he knew exactly whom to ask, but he would leave it for some time later.

With a shaky, shuddered breath, Orion swept closer to the orb of blackness. He extended his right hand, which was still glowing in darkness since he hadn't cancelled the Hand of Death spell in all that time. And then, he opened his hand, seeing how the magical replica, the true Hand of Death, opened as well.

He made it gently hold his father's soul, while he said quietly, "Don't ask questions, Dad. Not about what you saw or heard, or how I've done this. I'll try to explain later." He gazed at his father's ethereal face, adding with a hint of pleading, "Alright?"

"Er – yes, of course," said Sirius instantly, his ghostly face deeply frowning - with concern, Orion hoped.

Though, maybe his father was frowning at the way he looked like. Orion supposed that he must look like a mess; disheveled, frazzled, shaken, troubled, exhausted, and possibly wearing his emotions on his face, after such a turmoil of a confrontation with Cadmus. Not to mention that he eyes still had to be all-black. He inwardly grimaced. That was something he wasn't looking forward to explaining. Well, he wasn't looking forward to explaining anything to his father, but he knew he had to, and then stoically bear the outburst.

Concentrating back on his task, Orion kneeled besides his father's body, and he slowly made the Hand of Death carefully handle his father's soul, until it laid on top of the living body. The next part would happen without much of his assistance. He simply made the Hand of Death push the soul into the body, and Sirius' soul seemed to naturally take to it. With an intense gaze, Orion quietly observed how his father's soul seeped into the body, disappearing from sight.

Suddenly, the body glowed in a potent flash of whiteness, and Orion's lips spread into a beaming, joyful smile. He saw the body arching, before it flattened back on the floor, and the glow vanished. A slight tremor racked through his father's body, and then, a shaky gasp burbled from the pale lips.

In an instant, Orion cancelled the Hand of Death spell, and he placed his palms on his father's forehead, just as he saw the grey eyes opening with great effort.

"Rest," he muttered softly, while he casted a wandless sleeping charm.

The grey eyes summarily closed, and his father's body relaxed limply on the stone floor. Orion remained kneeling, silently observing his father, watching him breathe rhythmically, while feeling a luxuriant and ecstatic surge of pride in himself, reawakened love for his father, and an all-encompassing sense of triumph. He had waited so long for this, planned so exhaustively, practiced and developed his powers so much – just for this occasion. And it had worked; he had finally done it.

He didn't know how much time passed, but at last, feeling exhausted and utterly drained, he slowly got up, and glanced at his patroni.

Suddenly, a beautiful song mingled with a gentle hiss echoed and vibrated in the air, filling Orion with a sense of comforting warmness. He smiled at the Basilisk and Phoenix, and said quietly, "Come back to me."

His words were unnecessary, his mere thought sufficed, but he liked talking to them in the occasions he produced them, because he felt that they were like friends - his constant companions, inside him. Friends he couldn't lose, not like he had lost Calypso and Lezander.

Orion closed his eyes, and sighed in pleasure, when he felt the patroni plunging into him. He immediately felt reenergized, filled up and powered by the magic that had returned to his magical core, swiftly adding more to it.

Finally, he glanced around and summarily waved his Death and Life repeatedly, putting everything into his school bag, and bringing down the summoning portal and the ward that had kept the Guild's Necromancers apart from the area. Then, he flicked his wand once more, making his slumbering father gently hover in mid-air.

That done, he gazed at the Necromancers, closely gauging their reactions.


	13. Virgil, Loki & Sirius sing song

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I will be answering your doubts and questions in the next chappie, though I might take a while in posting it. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 13**

Orion's eyes widened as he gazed at the congregated Necromancers, and a gasp escaped from his lips while he shivered, unwittingly taking a step towards them, feeling mesmerized. All he could see were enticing, pure white souls before him, glowing inside the Necromancers… All he could feel was an exquisite warmth all around him, coming from the souls, calling to him… He was entranced by them; they were so pure, so white, so untarnished…

Though, it didn't surprise him. Despite being dark wizards and witches, Necromancers valued the integrity of their souls above everything else. Therefore, it was obvious that they had taken care of not doing anything which could remotely affect the purity of their souls… But there was one in particular which made his eyes widen even further, and the strangeness of it also made him stop in his tracks, feeling his rational senses coming back to him, cutting through the detached haze of his mind.

It was the strangest soul he had seen thus far: glowing in immaculate whiteness but also with swirls of silver and tendrils of gold. Orion blinked, perplexed, before his all-black gaze moved upwards and locked with orange eyes. Then, the realization hit him like a bludger: the unknown Necromancer wasn't a wizard at all, at least not completely. The man had to have some magical creature blood in him - something which made the wizard's soul look so different from a mere human's soul.

He inwardly shook his head, as if clearing it from the spike of hungering desire he felt for the souls before him, and most particularly for the soul of the orange-eyed Necromancer. And swiftly, he pulled the Gaunt ring from his finger, letting out a short sigh when he felt all the coldness and detachment flow away from his mind and body, feeling relieved for being free of the Resurrection Stone's influence on him.

It was then when he became aware of all the gazes fixed on him, the Necromancers piercingly staring at him with their all-black, glowing eyes, which were the only thing he could see of them from the darkness of their hooded and shrouded faces.

They were all silently still, no one beeped a word, and Orion finally muttered, "I did it."

He instantly felt stupid for stating the obvious. But really, he had expected them to say something first. And frankly, he was too tired to give a damn anyway. He felt his exhaustion spreading into his very bones, and he regretted not being able to take a Strengthening Potion. Grindelwald had sternly warned him that he couldn't take any potions at all, since he was daily imbibing the potion which suppressed his aura of dark magic, and taking any other potion in addition to that one could end up killing him… Ah, yes, now he understood why he was feeling so exhausted. Despite the amount of magic he had used, it hadn't been enough to drain him so much. His present tiredness, which made him feel to be about to melt on the floor, had to be also caused by the darned potion he had to take.

He inwardly sighed. He knew he would start feeling the potion's secondary effects soon. It was to be expected. At least he knew that he only had to take the blasted potion for a few more months, since he would stop taking it as soon as his school year at Hogwarts ended. Merlin, he couldn't wait for that, because he also had the perspective of killing Dumbledore by then, as he had committed to do by the Unbreakable Vow he had taken. He knew Draco wouldn't be able to kill the old coot in cold blood, but he had no such scruples.

Furthermore, he was not only looking forward to dueling and matching powers with Dumbledore, but also to finally have in his hands the last Hallow he needed. He inwardly smiled tiredly. In just one or two months Draco would surely finish fixing the cabinet… Just a few more months, and the Elder wand would be his. And he would finally have all three Hallows, and then he would undergo the Vindico test-

"You did it, indeed," said a hoarse voice, with a slight hint of respect and pride.

Orion snapped his eyes up, and a faint smile tugged his lips when he saw that it was Necro Master Vresi who had spoken. Out of the three Necro Masters, he liked her the most, since she had been the one who had taken upon herself the task of teaching him how to communicate with a Dementor.

"Yes, he disposed of the High One," interjected Necro Master Kreguil, sharply side-glancing at Orion. "But we cannot use his method to rid ourselves of the rest of Dementors. How can we, when all he did was to somehow persuade the High One to go through the Gate-"

Orion nonchalantly arched an eyebrow, feeling exhausted but not to the point of losing his much needed coolness for this discussion. And he interrupted saying placidly, "I told you that I only cared about killing Cadmus in order to free my father's soul."

Though, he was inwardly relieved at having his hopes confirmed that the Necromancers hadn't heard his mind-to-mind chat with Cadmus. It was obvious from Necro Master Kreguil's words. Thus, he also knew that they were unaware of what Cadmus had made him experience – the memories of his past life as Regulus Black. That, and having been Sextus Black, was something he didn't want the Guild to know.

Merlin knew what the Guild would ask of him if they discovered it – one more oddity about him, as if his unique dark magic and being the first stable human-horcrux wasn't oddity enough. If the Guild knew about the swiftness of his reincarnation, from Regulus to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be looked upon by them like a fascinating, juicy specimen of weird rebirth-pattern at play.

He pierced Necro Master Kreguil with his eyes, and said firmly, "Killing the other Dementors is your aim, and not my concern. Surely you didn't expect me to solve all your problems. Nevertheless, you can use my method, if you put effort on it." He smirked, and added nonchalantly, "In the end, it's simple. Dementors were Necromancers who yearned for something – power, a lost love, a dead brother, more knowledge, or something of the sort. What I did was to supply Cadmus with what he wanted – the reason for which he had become the first Dementor. You saw it – the soul I summoned. It was Eloise Talbot, the witch he had loved and tried repeatedly to bring back to life, and I used her to make Cadmus kill himself. There you have it: do the same with the other Dementors. Discover what they really want, and use it against them, manipulating them into entering a Gate. There's no other way, believe me, I researched it to exhaustion. So just learn about them, tempt them with something they truly want, and give it in exchange for their death."

"Yes, we'll certainly look into it," rasped out Necro Master Njord, fluidly taking a step towards Orion. "And you have made history here today, Mr. Black. You are the first to have ever killed a Dementor and resurrected a Kissed wizard. And your skills and powers are worthy to be praised. Nevertheless, your method, as unorthodox and risky as it was, only succeeded because you knew the High One well – almost personally, it seems, since you discovered who he had loved. It's peculiar since the High One was your ancestor but I wouldn't have suspected that you knew much about him, or that you had any sources of information about him." He pierced Orion with his all-black gaze, and added pointedly, "Do I assume correctly by thinking that the book, from which you read, once belonged to Cadmus Peverell?"

"Not quite," he said calmly, meeting the Necro Master's gaze just as piercingly. "It's my translation of Cadmus' journal – he had written one. It's very interesting." With a lazy flip of his wrist he wandlessly accioed the book from his school bag, and held it up, with a smirk tugging his lips. "Do you want it?"

"I will take it if it's offered so voluntarily," replied Necro Master Njord in his low, raspy voice.

"It is," said Orion smoothly, handing the book to the Necromancer, with a polite smile plastered on his face.

He lost nothing by parting from it, since when he had written that translation he hadn't discovered yet the concealed passages of Cadmus' journal. Therefore, the translation didn't include the information about the creation of the Resurrection Stone or about all the Necromantic spells and knowledge that came with it. Furthermore, with this show of goodwill, he further gained the Guild's trust and favor.

"You can also have this," he said casually, while he held up the Gaunt ring. "As you must already know, this is the Resurrection Stone, and following the terms of the magical contract we signed, I'm lending it to you – temporarily. You allowed me to use your Gate and now I'm upholding my end of the deal. You can have it, and study it, for a few months. After that, I will want it back."

"I'm glad to see that you are a wizard of your word," rasped out Necro Master Njord, while his all-black gaze intently fixed on the Gaunt ring, as if mesmerized by it and restraining his desire for it. "We will give it back when you request it of us, Mr. Black. Fear not, the Guild also keeps its word."

Orion nodded, not doubting it for a second, since he knew that the Guild would be forced to give it back to him by the terms of the magical contract he had signed with them. Then he saw that the Necro Master was wise and cautious enough to take the Hallow by its ring, taking care of not touching the Stone directly.

The moment it left his hand, he felt himself breathing more relaxedly. Yes, he highly valued the Resurrection Stone, which was his by all means since he was Cadmus' descendant –and son, if he wanted to go even deeper. Nevertheless, the Stone still made him feel uneasy, and he was glad to part from it for a while. Oh, he would need it afterwards, since he knew that he had to have the three Hallows together for the Vindico test. He didn't know much about the test, but he was certain that all the Hallows were needed, and that he would be told by the damned Spirits what to do with them once he was ready to undergo the test. In the meanwhile, he was glad to have a break from the influence of the Hallow.

"The terms of the magical contract are being fulfilled," said Necro Master Njord in his hoarse voice, after having carefully contained the Gaunt ring in a small sphere of black magic. "And there's only one more matter left to discuss."

Orion frowned, and his eyes instantly narrowed when he saw the Necro Master turning his gaze towards the unknown wizard. The orange eyes of the man swiftly turned into all-black glowing pools, the gaze locking with the Necro Master's, and Orion immediately knew that they were communicating mind-to-mind, once again.

After what seemed like a fraction of a second, the unknown man curtly nodded, and said in a smooth, tenor voice which held a faint Spanish accent, "Yes, Thor, you were right about him. I accept."

Then, the strongly-built wizard turned towards him, and Orion distinguished something about the man he hadn't seen before. Besides the scar running from a cheekbone to strong chin, the regal yet warrior-like ensemble of clothing, strapped holsters, and weapons, the strange black symbols tattoed from left temple to cheek, and the appearance of being thirty years old at most, there was something else which added more puzzling mystery to the wizard. The orange-eyed Necromancer's black hair was spiked on the front, but Orion now saw that the man's white hair was long at the back, reaching his waist and neatly tied with a small ribbon of blue silk.

And that was in true pureblood fashion. Nowadays, young pureblooded wizards didn't follow old traditional pureblooded standards on hair style, but older wizards did; like Lucius Malfoy and the Lestrange brothers-

Abruptly, Orion involuntarily shuddered, weirdly experiencing the remembrance of Regulus' memories. He now knew what it felt to have Lucius Malfoy inside of him… Merlin, the wizard had been a father-figure to him during the brief period in which Lucius had been his guardian. And now, that image was crushed. As much as he tried, he couldn't consider Lucius a father-figure any more; it clashed painfully with what he had experienced… Merlin, he could feel it still… As well as all the others…

Something in his chest painfully tightened, and he hastily and ruthlessly pushed his messy, jumbled thoughts from his mind. It was in the past, he wasn't Regulus anymore, he wouldn't think about what he had experienced, and Cadmus was dead and couldn't make it happen again!

"All in all," said the tenor voice with lingering Spanish accent, and Orion's eyes instantly snapped up and locked with orange ones, "despite numerous mistakes and brushings with Death, your performance was impressively manipulative."

Orion pierced the wizard with his eyes, frowning at him with annoyance. He was answered by a cold smirk which only served to irritate him further, rubbing him the wrong way.

"You are indeed powerful, and worthy – to be mi aprendiz."

"Your apprentice?" scoffed Orion, arching an eyebrow scathingly. "I don't even know who you are. What makes you think that I'll-"

"I'm Virgilio the Argonaut," interrupted the wizard gravely, piercing him with his stern orange gaze. "But you will address me as Master Virgil."

"Master?" spat Orion bristling, now truly angered. "I call no one 'Master'."

Muggle hell would freeze over before he did that. Not even Voldemort had succeeded in making him call him 'Master' – not with him… Him – not Regulus! Damn it – he had to stop thinking about that!

"I don't care," said Virgilio sharply, narrowing his orange eyes at him. "You WILL call me Master Virgil, out of due respect towards me. Be forewarned, Mr. Black, I take no cheek or insolence. When you find yourself ready, let the Guild know, and I'll come to get you." Then the man swiftly turned to the Necro Masters, and said curtly, "Thor, Virginia, Gratus – a pleasure, as always."

And to Orion's amazement, he saw the Necro Masters slightly bowing to the wizard in response, even though Virgil had shown no such politeness. Then, instantly, the wizard did a sequence of movements which perplexed Orion, since he had never seen something like it. It was very quick, it happened in a flash.

The man firmly clapped his palms together in front of his chest, pointing upwards, and they started glowing in a silver light... And Orion's eyes widened as he saw what the man was producing, or better said, calling forth, since a misty screen of silvery fog had suddenly appeared. He knew what it was, he had seen it before and Loki had explained it to him. It was a Locus of Time, and Virgil had just made one appear.

Then, the Necromancer's orange eyes turned into all-black pools of blackness while the man shot his palms forward, with his arms perfectly straight at either sides of him. And finally, the wizard flipped his hands over, his fingers pointing down with his palms facing outwards, and a burst of glowing Necromantic magic flew from his palms and instantly produced a wide, black disk in the silvery surface of the Locus of Time, creating what looked like a swirling black-hole. And in the blink of an eye, the wizard jumped into it. He instantly disappeared into it, and the Locus of Time and black whirlpool vanished, leaving nothing behind but silence and a gaping Orion.

"Excellent," rasped out Necro Master Njord, sounding highly satisfied. "Virgilio has agreed to take you as his apprentice, Mr. Black. Let me congratulate you for it; you'll be his first and only. And as pacted in our magical contract, we'll wait for you to decide when you want to undergo the training to become a Necromancer. Let us know, and we'll inform Virgilio. At present, I believe our dealings have concluded. "

Orion stared at him as everyone started to leave the dimly lit chamber, and he bit out heatedly, "No it hasn't! Who was that-?"

"The Guild will be glad to receive you any time you like," interrupted Necro Master Vresi in her hoarse voice, though she didn't halt her fluid steps. "Don't hesitate to contact us. Now, apprentice Loki will take you back, Mr. Black. As for the other matter, regarding Virgil, your questions will be answered by him once you commence your Necromantic training under his tutelage."

And with that, all the Necromancers swiftly left the chamber, and Orion was felt alone with Loki. Bristling with indignant anger, he spun around to face the boy, though he paused when he saw that Loki was fiercely glowering at him. It seemed that the boy was angry at him – it was the last straw.

"What's going on?" demanded Orion briskly.

Loki's glower intensified, if possible, and the boy bit out, "Do you have any idea of who that was?"

"Yes," said Orion tartly, his voice dripping with condescending sarcasm, "_Virgilio_."

"Fool!" hissed out Loki, piercing him with narrowed, black eyes. "He's The Argonaut!"

"Then tell me what the bloody hell is that!" snapped Orion short-tempered. "You know perfectly well that I don't have a clue about who Virgil is!"

"Yes, you know nothing about Guild-matters, do you?" said Loki snidely.

"Cut the crap, Njord," spat Orion heatedly. "I don't know what crawled up your arse and died, but whatever problem you have-"

"_You_ are my problem," snarled Loki, taking a menacing step towards him.

"I'm your problem?" snapped Orion incensed, narrowing his eyes at the boy. "How is that?"

"What's so special about you, Black?" hissed Loki, with his glowering face inches away from Orion's. "That Dementor was your ancestor and the creator of the Resurrection Stone – big deal, that was him, not you! Why is my father and the other Necro Masters so interested in you? Why do they give you such leeway? The magical contract you signed with them - its terms- are ridiculously flexible, in your benefit! Why? Why do they want you so much, and why has The Argonaut, who has never remotely shown any interest in taking an apprentice before, selected you!"

He inched his face closer to Orion's, and his eyes seemed to be spitting fire. Orion had never seen the boy so angry before. Loki was normally a very subdued and quiet person, only scowling and snarkily snapping, and not this furious wizard before him.

"It's always you, you, you," spat Loki heatedly. "You're Headmaster Vagnarov's favorite - he always allows you to do anything you want! Even our Curse Breaking and Warding Professor shows his preference for you-"

"Komorov?" interrupted Orion disbelievingly, before he snapped with true anger, "You think that Roman Komorov, out of all people, has a soft spot for me? The man hates my guts!"

"He doesn't," bit out Loki, leveling at him a dark, incensed scowl. "Yes, he changed his way of acting around you, but he still gave you extra lessons and homework last year-"

"Think why!" interjected Orion angrily. "You believe he helped me out of the goodness of his heart? Vagnarov and Komorov knew that there was a chance that I would go into the English Department of Mysteries, that's why Komorov gave me extra lessons, because he wanted me to be prepared since he didn't want to lose a tool – that's what he and others consider me to be! And you think Vagnarov shows leniency towards me without any valid reason? I'm a tool for him as well, however well-intentioned the wizard is, because I'm-"

Abruptly, he clamped his mouth shut, his eyes slightly widening at how much he had said. Granted, he hadn't revealed anything important, but he had been close to doing it… He was simply too exhausted, he felt his mind sluggishly slow. Merlin, and he still had a lot of things to do before being able to go to sleep…

"Yes, go on, tell me," said Loki sharply, piercing him with his eyes while grasping the collar of Orion's Durmstrang uniform. "There is a reason, isn't there? And you know what it is. Tell me why you are so important, Black. Why my own father barely glances at me, yet he always observes you with interest!"

"Is that what all of this is about?" interjected Orion, feeling all his bristling anger melting away amidst waves of tiredness. He slowly rubbed his forehead, and said quietly, "Merlin's staff, Njord, what do you want me to tell you? I know why Vagnarov and Komorov seem - to you- to be lenient with me, but I truly have no idea why the Necro Masters are interested in me. In that regard, I know as much as you do: that I'm Cadmus Peverell's descendant and that they struck a bargain with me so that they could study the Resurrection Stone-"

"I know that," interrupted Loki in a harsh, steely tone of voice, "but the Necro Masters also want you to become a full-fledged Necromancer. They want you to be part of the Guild, and they bent their rules to allow you the freedom of choosing when to undergo the training. And they're even allowing you to have the chance of refusing to take the trials. Don't you see how much they have yielded for you?"

Orion frowned at him. "Yes… I suppose they have."

"Tell me why," pressed on Loki demandingly, piercing him with his eyes. "I'm not stupid, Black. I know it must be for the very same reason that Headmaster Vagnarov is always watching out for you. It is, isn't it?"

"Yes, I think so," said Orion, his frown deepening even further. "I guess it's possible that the Guild knows as well…"

He shook his head, since it was pointless to ponder about that. As a matter of fact, if Loki's unwitting suspicions were correct and the Guild did know something about the whole VA-issue, it wasn't consequential. The Guild cared nothing about what happened in the 'outer world', as they called the mortal plane. They didn't care about wars between Light and Dark, as long as the Guild remained secluded, undiscovered, and unharmed. Even if the Guild knew anything about the whole VA thing, they wouldn't care one way or the other.

"Tell me what it is."

Orion's eyes snapped up and he met Loki's dark gaze. He sighed and tiredly carded his fingers through his hair, before he said firmly, "I can't, Njord. I'm sorry that it seems to you that they are all favoring me, but it isn't like that. All of them have a reason to do so, and let me tell you that it's done in self-interest, because of the goals they have for the Dark-"

"Because you are the Dark Lord's spouse?" interrupted Loki, frowning at him. "Just because of that? It doesn't make sense. It's not important enough."

"It's not because of that," said Orion impassively, meeting the boy's scrutinizing gaze. "Nevertheless, I cannot tell you, Njord. Ask the Necro Masters for their reasons. I don't completely know theirs, and I will not tell you the others' reasons. I haven't even told those closest to me, so why would I-"

"So why would you tell me, right?" interjected Loki dryly. He released his grasp on Orion's robes, and said sharply, "Fair enough, Black. You owe me nothing – we've never been friends."

"No, we haven't," said Orion tartly.

Loki curtly nodded, and then said sharply, "Do you want to know what an Argonaut is?"

Orion stared at him with surprise, before he arched an eyebrow and said nonchalantly, "You would tell me?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't," scoffed Loki. "You would find out when you started your training with him, anyway." He pierced him with his eyes, and added pointedly, "And you would owe me a favor. Deal?"

"Fine," replied Orion, almost bursting with the need to know more about the strange, orange-eyed Necromancer. "I'll owe to share some information with you, but it's my prerogative to choose what and how much to tell you. Alright?"

"Done," said Loki quickly. He straightened his shoulders, and said in a low, quiet voice, "The Guild, throughout its existence, has always had one Argonaut. They are Necromancers, part of the Guild, but much more independent than any other Necromancer and also respected as much as Necro Masters are. It's because of what they do – it's vital for the Guild, and few Necromancers have the inclination, power, or plain capacity to do it. You see, an Argonaut is a Necromancer who is always in other planes. While all the Guild's Necromancers stay here, exploring the spiritual plane to advance their knowledge about it, an Argonaut is rarely seen here, for he is always in other realms. There are countless realms beside the spiritual plane, Black, but most Necromancers aren't interested in them; they prefer to study souls, to prepare themselves for their own rebirths, and to be able to have some control over it. That's why the Guild wants to get rid of Dementors and become the guards of the Balance between the mortal and spiritual plane. They want to do a better job at it, without taking the souls of living wizards, as Dementors do."

The boy waved a hand dismissively, and continued, "But you know about that already. Let me get to the point. Necromancers stay in the Guild, studying souls and taking incursions into the spiritual plane for it. They mostly summon souls, though they summon creatures from other realms occasionally, but they never actually go into those realms – that's the Argonaut's task. He's a sort of ambassador for the Guild; always living in other realms, interacting with whatever creatures there are in those planes, and advancing and promoting the Guild's influence in those places. An Argonaut is, essentially, a traveler of non-spiritual realms. His quests vary, but His ultimate goal is to solidify Guild-realm relations."

Orion's eyes marginally widened, and he said slowly, "That's what that thing was? That swirling black-hole thing he made with a Locus of Time and his Necromantic powers? It was a portal into a realm?"

"Exactly," said Loki curtly. "It takes years to master how to create those portals, and many Necromancers don't take the trouble of learning it when there's already an Argonaut. When the Guild lacks an Argonaut, because the previous one died, then all Necromancers are tested and the most able one is chosen. Though the selected one can refuse, Virgil didn't. Actually, I heard that Virgil always wanted to become The Argonaut, and that the previous one stepped down to leave him his place, because Virgil proved to be more powerful and skilled than him. This happened four centuries ago, by the way-"

"How's that possible?" interjected Orion, frowning while deeply musing about all of it.

Loki darkly scowled at him. "Use your bloody brain, Black! It shouldn't surprise you that The Argonaut looks young even if he is old. How many times do I have to tell you that time is of no consequence - even much less in other realms! Circe knows how time passes on those planes in comparison to the mortal one."

"Right, I get the point," muttered Orion, his mind still wrapped in his pensiveness.

Loki pierced him with his eyes, and demanded crisply, "What is it?"

"Huh?" said Orion startled, before meeting his gaze. "Oh, nothing. Simply that I think that I know why they asked Virgil to come here to observe me."

"Do tell, Black," bit out Loki impatiently.

Orion shot him an irritated glare, before he said shortly, "It's because the Necro Masters know that even if I become a full-fledged Necromancer I wouldn't want to stay here, in the Guild. You weren't there when I discussed it with them, but I expressly told them that I would always go back to the mortal plane. I'm not interested in spending the rest of my life studying the workings of the spiritual plane, Njord. I'm interested in the outer world, as you call it. Therefore, they asked Virgil to come here because-"

"Because they knew The Argonaut can offer you what they cannot," interrupted Loki, with a slight frown on his ever-scowling face. "I think you are right, Black. Clearly, the spiritual plane doesn't interest you, but if what you seek is to be powerful in the outer world – as I suspect you do- then you'll gain much by knowing what there is in other realms. After all, The Argonaut can train you to become a full-fledged Necromancer but he can also teach you about creatures of other realms; how to summon them, how to gain their allegiance and use them in battle…."

He pierced Orion with his eyes, the gaze intense and demanding. "That's it, isn't it? Gaining allies for the war and to be more powerful… You want to become a Dark Lord, and the Guild knows it, and decided that they gained more than they lost by helping you become it. After all, you'll owe the Guild your undying loyalty after you become a full-fledged Necromancer. You'll be bound to protect the Guild – its existence and all its secreted knowledge... A Dark Lord protecting and furthering the Guild's goals. Yes, that would indeed make the Necro Masters interested in helping you out."

Orion stared at him in silence, though inwardly he was mildly shocked. Loki had hit the nail, full on. The young wizard had precisely said what he thought – what he had suspected. Granted, the boy should have said 'Vindico Atrum' instead of 'Dark Lord' to express exactly what he had thought, but the young wizard didn't know about the VA. And he realized immediately that he had underestimated Loki, since the boy had piece it all together with scarce bits of information.

"I'm right, aren't I?" insisted Loki, his gaze scrutinizing, holding a hint of awed and startled realization. "Circe on a broom! That's what Headmaster Vagnarov wants from you as well. Everything fits!" His eyes widened, and he gasped out, "For Merlin's staff, Black, what are you plotting – will you kill the Dark Lord? Is that what all that rubbish about the prophecy is? Is that what Vagnarov and Professor Komorov want you to do in order to further their goals for the Dark, as you put it? For you to take the Dark Lord's place and lead the Dark in the war?"

Orion stood rooted to the spot. The conversation was getting too dangerously close to the truth.

"Fuck – answer me, Black!"

"I will," said Orion calmly, deciding on the best course of action, while fleeting feeling surprised at the boy's uncharacteristic outburst, "only if my answer pays off what you told me about the Argonaut."

"Yes, yes," snapped Loki hastily, darkly scowling at him. "You'll owe me no more information if you tell me if I got it right or not."

"Good," said Orion sharply, before he pierced him with his eyes, and added quietly, "Yes, it's exactly what you said."

"Merlin's socks, Black!" interjected Loki harshly. "Are you bloody insane by going along with what they want? You – killing the Dark Lord and taking his place? Is that what you-"

Orion had had enough. He didn't want to go down that lane, and quite frankly, Loki was simply too bloody perceptive for his taste. One thing was to make Loki believe that he simply wanted to be a Dark Lord, but it was another matter entirely to discuss the issue in depth. And he knew exactly what would shut the young wizard up.

"Ow, I'm touched, Njord," he interrupted in a cooing and mocking voice. "You care about my well-being. It warms the deepest folds of my heart to know that-"

"Stuff it, Black," spat Loki heatedly, looking thunderous while his pale ears turned red. "I don't give a gnat about you. With luck, the Dark Lord will kill you, or better yet, some creature of some realm will gobble you down."

Orion smirked at him. "Yes, you would like that, wouldn't you? Tell me, besides your father's interest in me, are you also jealous that Virgil chose me as his apprentice?"

He knew he had struck deep when Loki's dark eyes flashed with fury –though he could see that it was caused by the mention of the boy's father and not about the Argonaut. Nevertheless, he inwardly sighed with relief, since making Loki angry served to divert the boy's thoughts away from him and also to put some distance between them. He didn't want understanding in Loki; he didn't want the boy to feel anything of the sort which could lead them to some type of friendship, because, quite frankly, he had other plans for Loki, and friendship wasn't involved at present.

"You can take The Argonaut's mentorship and stick it up your vain, conceited arse," hissed out Loki, irately glaring at him. "Not everyone wants to be you, Black. Furthermore, I'm not remotely interested in learning an Argonaut's ways. When I pass my trials I'll stay in the Guild to study the spiritual plane – it's what I've always wanted, instead of traipsing around the other realms!"

"Good to know," said Orion sharply. "Now, if you don't mind, let's leave. I have a resurrected father to take care of."

"I don't give a pixie's arse about your father-"

"Yes, we've established that," interrupted Orion briskly. "You don't give a damn about me, so you don't give a damn about my father. That's perfectly fine by me, but I can only get out of here with you, so stop wasting my bloody time!"

Loki fixedly stared at him, darkly glowering, but also eyeing him strangely, with a frown on his pale face. But Orion paid him no further attention and he swiftly approached his father, who was still deeply asleep, floating in mid air with the charm he had casted a while ago.

* * *

The instant he finally apparated into the master study of Black Manor, with school bag and a floating father along with him, Dobby popped before him.

"Master Orion, sir," said the house-elf, frantically bobbing its ears, "there is guest waiting in the Blue Parlor, sir. Guest has been waiting for thirty minutes, Master Orion, sir, and-"

"Oh, Merlin," interrupted Orion with a heavy sigh, while he checked his wristwatch and discovered that it was indeed half past ten in the evening.

He had left for the Guild around nine, and spent about three hours there, but of course, since time behaved differently in the Cross of Planes, only one hour and a half had passed in the outside. Nevertheless, he was thirty minutes late and he knew his 'guest' would be very, very cranky; the wizard despised unpunctuality.

"Bring him here, immediately," he said hastily, while he flicked his wand and made his father lie on a plush, comfortable couch.

Dobby popped away instantly, and he didn't have to wait long when the door slammed open and his guardian stalked inside, with a darkly irked expression on his face.

"What has happened to you?" said Snape sharply, narrowing his obsidian eyes at him, and inspecting every inch of him. "What moronic foolishness were you involved in this time? You're covered with black bruises, and you better have not made me come here to heal you again…"

Whatever vitriolic and snide rant his guardian let out, Orion only heard it distantly, because the moment he laid eyes on the wizard he was assaulted by memories which weren't his own.

He remembered being ensconced in the Slytherin common room, besides a young Severus Snape who was tutoring him in Potions… He saw himself teaching Severus a nasty curse he had learned over the summer holidays, which he had spent reading the darkest books of Grimmauld's Place library… He clearly visualized dueling with Severus, practicing their curses and feeling a frisson of smug contentment when he managed to provoke an unwilling laughter from his sour, stern friend…

Orion gasped and froze in place when he realized what was happening. He was seeing and feeling Regulus' memories regarding Snape, and Cadmus wasn't there to inflict them on him. Whatever the Dementor had done to him wasn't temporary. Cadmus had permanently changed something – unlocked something in him. And now he understood why the Dementor had quietly gone into the Gate without any further retribution; Cadmus had done this on purpose, leaving him to be slowly consumed by Regulus' memories, and certainly also by more to come from his past reincarnations… He should have known that Cadmus wouldn't calmly kill himself without taking revenge – without doing something of this magnitude to him! His mind panicky reeled with the repercussions of it - He would go insane! He would need to find some solution to this, or-

"What's the matter with you?" snapped Snape, and Orion suddenly realized that his guardian was firmly gripping his chin, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes.

"Er, I – nothing," he said hesitantly, while his mind slowly come back to the awareness of his present circumstances. He shook his head, straightened his shoulders, and took a step back from the wizard, as he said nonchalantly, "You were saying?"

"What have you done?" demanded Snape sharply, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Your appearance, your bruises-"

Orion cut him off with a wave of his hand, while he wandlessly summoned a small mirror and inspected himself with a frown on his forehead. Ah, yes, he saw them: what appeared to be black bruises covering several places of his face and neck, not to mention his hands. He had 'bruises' in every place in which he had had physical contact with the Dementor. And even with the Zraven vampire blood in him, those burn marks would take over a week to heal themselves.

He sighed and swiftly vanished the mirror, before he pierced Snape with his eyes and mutely pointed at his father lying deep asleep on the couch.

"You're showing me the Mutt," said Snape tartly, his voice dripping with snide sarcasm. "How thrilling. I thought you had disposed of the useless lump long ago."

Orion simply rolled his eyes. He had become used to any Snapish slur against his father ages ago, and it didn't remotely bother him anymore.

"He's alive."

"And soulless," drawled Snape dryly, shooting him an unimpressed glance. "Quite fitting, since he's as useless and pathetic as he was in life." He arched an eyebrow, and sneered acerbically, "I would have thought that your beloved Dark Lord would have incinerated the mutt's body by now, instead of allowing you to cling to your father's empty carcass-"

Orion huffed with exasperation, and snapped, "He's truly alive, Severus!" He shot him a self-satisfied smirk, and added smugly, "I resurrected him, my friend." He pointed his finger at his father again, and said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally challenged wizard – for truly, his guardian deserved it at present, "I defeated the Dementor who had his soul. I took the soul from it, killed it, and then placed the soul in my father's body. My father is now ALIVE – for real."

He couldn't quite decipher what was going through his guardian's mind, but the wizard had stilled, standing rooted in place, his black eyes narrowed and his gaze scrutinizing.

"How?" finally said Snape, his voice sharp and very low. "That's impossible. Resurrection is impossible, not to mention resurrecting a Kissed wizard, Orion. What did you do? How did you-?"

"I will explain everything," interrupted Orion tiredly, "but not at present. Now, Severus, we'll do what I need your help for."

Without giving the man a second to say any more, he swiftly reached the grand mahogany desk and flicked his wand several times to unlock it's bottom drawer. Then, very carefully, he extracted the pensieve containing his father's memories and casted several ward-breaking and bloods spells.

Finally, he wandlessly called forth two armchairs besides the couch where his father was asleep, and said quietly, "My father left most of his memories in this pensieve, before he went to Hogwarts to capture Peter Pettigrew. He knew there was a chance he would fail and be captured by Aurors." He pointed at the pensieve. "Most of his life is here: most of his memories regarding me, my identity as Harry Potter, and his recollections about my mother. He won't be himself unless we put all these memories back into his mind." He side-glanced at Snape, and added, "I need your help to do it. You're a much more skilled and experienced Legilimens than I am, and if we work together it will take us no more than the rest of the night. Will you help me?"

"I will want an explanation," said Snape sharply, sternly piercing him with his eyes. "You will tell me what you did, in detail." Orion nodded, and the wizard continued with a sour expression on his face, as if he had been forced to swallow a lemon against his will, "Yes, I'll help you, insufferable brat. Only because of the oath we gave to each other." Then he abruptly smirked, and added with viciously relish, "And I'll look forward to seeing how you explain to the mutt everything you've done in his absence – most particularly your marriage to the Dark Lord. Only for that, I'm willing to see your pathetic father back into life."

Orion crisply mumbled something under his breath, shooting a brief glare at his guardian, before he plunged the tip of his wand into the silvery surface of the pensieve. Snape soon followed, doing the same, and they started drawing swirls of memories.

* * *

Checking his wristwatch as soon as he spilled out of the fireplace, Orion discovered that it was almost ten in the morning, and that Remus would soon be dropping by. Nevertheless, it instantly left his mind when he heard screams and shouts reverberating from the hall.

Worried and exhausted, he quickly made his way out of the main parlor of Black Manor, intent on finding out what the ruckus was about.

After spending the whole night working with Snape in restoring the memories back into his father's mind, he had tiredly gone to bed, and his guardian had as well since he had convinced the wizard to rest in a bedroom of the Manor. Regardless, he had barely gotten a wink of sleep. His nightly visions had been the less troubling images which had plagued his dreams, since he had also been assaulted by a messy stream of flashes of memories. They weren't only Regulus'; he had been able to discern that some were of his life as Sextus Black, but in many others he hadn't been able to discover who he had been.

They had been images accompanied by feelings and thoughts, but people didn't usually think about their appearance or their names, so he had been unable to realize who he had been in those instances. Nevertheless, he had been able to discern that he was always a dark wizard; his age varied but not his gender or the type of his magic. It didn't only add more perplexing mystery to the matter of his reincarnations, but also pain. Most of the memories were the worst and most painful of his past self…

He had been a small boy, no more than ten years old, who had cried and bellowed when a mob of muggle peasants had barged into his home and taken his mother away from him, before being tied to a pyre and burnt alive. He had been too young to cast the spell his mother had told him about – that which would have allowed him to be unharmed by the blazing flames. He hadn't known how to cast the charm, and he died, burnt alive, and Orion had never experienced such agony or such hatred – for muggles. He had been a boy who hadn't believed his mother's warnings about how muggles were dangerous; he had wanted to impress the little girl of the nearby village, he had conjured a daisy for her, and she had ran away from him, frightened and screaming… It didn't take long for a mob of muggles to tear into his home, calling his mother a 'demon' and him 'the devil's spawn', and he had died surrounded by frenzied, murdering, spitting yells of 'abomination' and 'Devil'.

That was one of the recollections which had shaken Orion the most, due to the hatred he had felt, and even for more reason that he had felt it at such a young age, and directed to muggles.

The other memory that had shaken him just as badly was one in which he had been a wizard of around eighteen or twenty years old. He hadn't been able to discern much, but he saw how he approached a gentle-looking middle aged man with long blond hair, noble bearings, and a benevolent expression on the face. Havoc seemed to be going on all around him, but his attention had been solely focused on the man. He had tightly embraced the man, while feeling blazing hatred battling with pained hurt caused by the rejection he knew the man felt for him. But he had tightly embraced the man, caressing his hair in mock affection, and whispered 'Father' just before he plunged a dagger into the man's stomach, repeatedly. From there, he could only hears frantic screams and only see blood pouring and staining his hands and robes, while the man fell to the ground, dead, and as someone pulled him away from the violent masses that rushed towards him, intent on killing him in retribution.

That memory had been followed by one of Regulus' times with Voldemort, and Orion had had enough and had jumped from his bed. Not wanting to go back to sleep, he had gone along with an impulse, and also a need, and he had flooed to Grimmauld Place.

It had been ages since he had set foot in the house, and everything had seemed strangely familiar to him. He hadn't even been able to bear seeing or talking to the portrait of his grandmother; it only made him remember that Walburga had been his mother, who had always preferred Sirius over him. Moreover, he had gone into Regulus' bedroom, and everything seemed to be just as he had left it before answering his Lord's summon and killing himself. Orion knew that it wasn't so, since he had occupied Regulus' room years ago, after finding out that he wasn't only Harry Potter but also the son of Sirius. Nevertheless, that bedroom had felt like his own, and he had instantly known where to find a picture of Regulus.

Narcissa had often told him that he looked like his father, and Remus often told him that his features were a perfect combination of Lily's and Sirius', but they had been partly wrong – he also looked like Regulus. The same silky, black hair which if kept long would have been smoothly wavy as Regulus', the same high cheekbones, patrician straight nose, and handsomely aristocratic, boyish looks. The eye color differed –emerald green instead of dark grey- and his lips were fuller, like Lily's, but the rest was very similar, and it had shaken Orion further, wondering if Voldemort saw something of Regulus when the wizard looked at him.

But those contemplations hadn't been the worst, since he had found the vial of basilisk poison –now useless due to age and since it hadn't been spelled with preservations charms- that Regulus had intended to use to destroy the locket-horcrux, and he had had a flash of a hazy recollection. He remembered going into a cave with a house-elf –not Kreacher, but an older one, Orion could distinguish as much- making the elf drink some potion, grasping the locket, leaving another one, restoring the potion, burning the rests of the dead house-elf, and going back to Grimmauld Place…

And Orion hadn't known what to make of such memory. The cave hadn't looked familiar, nor had the potion, but what had mattered the most was that he, Regulus, had intended to use basilisk potion to destroy the horcrux, and he remembered why. He remembered reading every old book about the Dark Arts in the library of Grimmauld Place, researching for a solution, and he remembered discovering that basilisk potion could be used. And it was a surprise for Orion, since he had believed that horcruxes could only be destroyed by their maker or by the use of a powerful Light artifact, such as Gryffindor's sword. But he had realized that he believed that because he had read it in Sylvester Slytherin's parsel book, and that since that time others could have discovered other means. And most importantly, he remembered reading somewhere that Gryffindor's goblin-made sword had its blade tinted with basilisk poison.

The information had sunk into his mind, but, regardless, Orion hadn't been able to stand more recollections, or to think about it, and he had finally flooed back to Black Manor.

But it seemed that he would have no rest, since at present, panicked and frantic shouts from house-elves were booming from some place, along with unintelligible, terrified screams.

Finally, Orion barged into the room, and he paused with widened eyes when he took in the scene before him. Sirius – Merlin help him for he could not think of the wizard as just his father, but also as Sirius, his older brother- was screaming, looking wild and unaware of his surroundings, with his eyes closed, backed against a wall with his arms violently flinging everywhere, while he was circled by a group of house-elves who were trying their hardest to help and subdue him.

Orion instantly whipped out his wand and casted a calming charm on his father, before he cautiously approached him. Sirius had stopped screaming and batting his arms, but still had his eyes closed, so he carefully placed a hand on his father's shoulder, and said in a quiet, soothing voice, "You're awake, Dad. Whatever you saw isn't real. Open your eyes."

Dark grey eyes slowly opened and met his gaze, but Orion didn't sigh in relief since there was a panicked and uncomprehending look in his father's eyes.

"You… Orion? You look different, I don't understand," croaked out Sirius, staring at him with wide eyes, before he frantically looked around. "Where am I? What happened? I was in… Azkaban… "

"Azkaban?" said Orion tightly, before he clutched his father's shoulder more firmly, and demanded hastily, "What's the last thing you remember?"

Sirius' eyes snapped to him, and he said hesitantly while a strange frown spread over his face, "I… er… I was with you… we found Peter! Then Remus came… and then Snivellus and Dumbledore!" He stared at Orion fixedly, his eyes widening. "And Aurors! Merlin's staff, Aurors came! But then…" His frowned deepened, and he added slowly, "Then blackness, and I remember… a cell in Azkaban – they captured me! But then something came… A Dementor… But after that…" He shook his head and shivered. "Then coldness, pain, and blackness… I don't understand…" He wildly shook his head, and demanded adamantly, "What happened pup? They released me, didn't they? Dumbledore saw Peter alive so he must have-"

"No, he didn't," interrupted Orion sharply, though he was inwardly dismayed.

Sirius didn't remember anything consequential –besides pain, coldness and blackness- about his time as a soul. His father didn't remember the two times they had spoken when the wizard had been a disembodied spirit inside the Dementor. He hadn't expected that, though he shouldn't have been surprised – nothing should surprise him since Sirius was the first to have ever been resurrected after being Kissed; they were in uncharted waters here.

"Sirius," he said quietly, before he quickly amended, "Dad. Let's sit down. There's something I must tell you."

He waved a hand at the frantically worried house-elves, and they popped away while he carefully pulled his father onto a couch.

"Listen," said Orion slowly, intently fixing Sirius with his gaze, "you weren't released from Azkaban. You were Kissed by the Dementor – you died, Dad. Dumbledore did indeed see Pettigrew alive, but-"

"What?" choked out Sirius, staring at him with unbelieving, wide eyes. "What are you talking about, pup? That I died? I'm here! And Dumbledore surely-"

A snide snort cut through, and a silky, vicious voice said, "Dumbledore surely what, Black? Saved your unworthy, pathetic hide? I think not – you bore the Dark Mark, still do, I might remind you."

Orion sighed just when Sirius jumped to his feet, and roared furiously, "Snivellus! What are you doing in my Manor? Where's my wand? I want you OUT-"

"I'm your son's guest," drawled Snape viciously, as he impassively leaned away from the threshold and smoothly strode inside the room, arching a mocking eyebrow. "And what do you want a wand for, mutt? Even with one, I could kill you in an instant, and that would put to waste your son's efforts. I recommend that you hear him out before-"

"As if I care about your recommendations, Snivellus!" spat Sirius heatedly, his voice sharp with spiteful loathing. "You cowardly, sniveling excuse for a wizard-"

"Shut it!" snapped Orion bristling, instantly getting up to his feet and shooting a glare at his father. "Don't talk to Severus like that, he has helped you and-"

"You're protecting Snivellus?" interrupted Sirius unbelievingly, staring at him with indignant anger.

Snape let out a condescending, malicious chuckle, and Orion shot him an irritated glower, before he rounded on his father, and said crisply, "I am. Severus is my friend and guardian. Now let's calm down and I'll take you someplace where I can explain everything to you-"

"Friend? GUARDIAN?" spluttered Sirius outraged, his voice rising as his gaze wildly flickered from one to the other.

"Sirius?" gasped out a quiet voice, and Orion sighed tiredly as he saw Remus standing at the threshold, staring at them with wide, amber eyes holding a hint of hope meshed with disbelief.

"Moony, my old friend!" said Sirius joyfully, as the two wizard met in a warm, crushing embrace, while Snape scoffed with scathing disgust.

Orion didn't even pay attention to the avalanche of questions that his father and Remus volleyed back and forth between them, as they tried to sort things out and failed, each one getting more perplexed than the other, while Snape seemed to be viciously amused.

It didn't take long before Sirius rounded on Snape again, but this time Orion saw that his father had somehow gotten Remus' wand in his hand. Snape had realized it as well, since the wizard was now hatefully sneering at Sirius, with wand aimed at him too, and looking quite eager for a violent duel.

Orion groaned, before he yelled angrily, "Stop it, you two! Should be ashamed of yourselves – I'm the kid here, supposedly, and-"

But his words were unheard or ignored more likely, and the wizards were already trading curses, while Remus tried to subdue them by talking reason into them – unsuccessfully, obviously.

Now furious, but forcing to remain collectedly calm, Orion shot a hand forward and instantly poured out his dark magic, which congealed into a thick wall of black ice between the wizards.

"What's this?" burst out Sirius, his glance flickering to Orion, while Snape narrowed his eyes at him, his gaze scrutinizing.

"That's me stopping you fools," said Orion coolly. "If you want to duel – fine. But it won't be here. You can't stay in this Manor anyway, father. Everyone knows about it and no one can know, for now, that you're back. You'll be staying someplace else." He pierced them with his eyes, and added sharply, "We're leaving. I'll take all of you with me and I'll explain things there. Now, I don't want a word or curse to be traded among you until we are there."

Sirius stared at him with gaping surprise, no doubt that it was due to the authoritative tone of his voice –his father would have to become used to it- while Remus nodded in quiet acceptance, his amber eyes brimming with unanswered questions but also patience. Snape, on the other hand, sneered at the other two wizards, before he pulled an expressionless mask over his features, and pierced Orion with demanding, narrowed eyes.

Nevertheless, Orion utterly ignored their unvoiced questions, and he firmly took a hold of them, pulling them into a side-along apparition. He wasn't going to risk saying anything in Black Manor. Even though the Manor was protected by ancient and powerful wards, it was public knowledge that it was his home, and he didn't put it past Dumbledore to have tried to break through the wards to spy inside. He knew the chances of it, or of the old coot succeeding in it, were slight, but he rather be cautious.

Therefore, they would be going to Potter Manor, even though Grindelwald was there. His father would have to learn about Grindelwald's presence in the Manor anyway, since Sirius would be living there. And Remus… well, Remus would finally find out that Grindelwald was alive and that he had rescued him from Nurmengard. Yes, many things would be revealed, and he needed to do it, since his father, Remus and Severus were key players for what he had planned, and it was imperative for him to find out where they stood.

* * *

He didn't answer any of their questions about why and how he had access to Potter Manor. Even with Snape piercing him with glowering narrowed eyes, Remus' amber gaze almost begging for answers, or with his father loudly demanding replies. Instead, he placidly greeted Daisy - Potter Manor's chief house-elf- and he calmly strode inside one of the parlors, elegantly perching himself on a plush armchair.

The second the others also took a seat, questions were fired, but Orion ignored them, with his gaze fixed on the door, waiting. Not even a minute passed when the door was opened and Grindelwald nonchalantly sauntered inside, crookedly smirking at him. In it, Orion detected a hint of relief and pride that he had made it back in one piece, but also a trace of dangerous mischievousness. But the wizard paused briefly when Orion smirked right back at him. Really, he had known that his mentor would immediately detect the presence of others, and that Grindelwald wouldn't pass the opportunity of making an entrance to shock his unwitting guests.

Indeed, the uproar was instantaneous. Sirius was on his feet, once again with Remus' wand in hand.

"Who – Grindelwald!" spit out Sirius with wide eyes, standing protectively in front of where Orion was seated, with a disbelieving but also uncomprehending expression on his face, while he purposely aimed his wand directly at Grindelwald. "Remus! This is… just like the textbook pictures… this is Grindelwald!"

Remus had also stood up, his body tensing with alertness as if about to spring forward, though he kept his voice steady and calm, "I'm sure there's a reason for-"

"He's Grindelwald - the mass-murderer of muggles!" yelled Sirius wildly, tightly clutching the wand, seeming ready to cast a curse at any time. "He was a Dark Lord! He's supposed to be locked away in Nurmerngard, Moony! What's he doing-"

Orion fleetingly felt for his father; Sirius was receiving shock after shock, but it was necessary. He wasn't going to molly-coddle his father, and more importantly, he had needed to gauge their reactions.

"He's supposed to be dead, Sirius," interjected Remus quietly, shooting an intent glance at Orion.

All the while, Grindelwald had elegantly and unworriedly sprawled himself on an armchair, looking like a man thoroughly and gleefully amused by the dramatic prances of lesser beings, as if all of it had been orchestrated for his own entertainment.

But Orion's gaze didn't linger on his mentor. And he didn't observe Snape's reaction, since the wizard had known about Grindelwald from the start, and he didn't waste time in contemplating his father's ongoing outburst – he had expected nothing else from him- but he did intently study Remus' reaction, and the wizard didn't disappoint.

"I'm sure," said Remus quietly, interrupting Sirius' frenzied rant once more, while his amber eyes pierced Orion with a firm gaze, "that Orion can explain why this wizard is here, alive. I'm sure you had a valid reason to break him out of his prison and bring him here, while making the wizarding world believe that he had died when Voldemort attacked Nurmerngard."

Orion nodded at him, satisfied with the werewolf's acceptance and his show of open-minded level-headedness. "Yes, I had and still have my reasons. And now, I will explain everything to you." He glanced at the others, and added calmly, "I'll explain why I have access to Potter Manor, why Grindelwald has become my mentor, and how I resurrected my father, amongst other things." Then he pierced Sirius with his eyes, and said quietly, "Dad, you _were_ Kissed, and you died. It happened almost four years ago, and since then I worked very hard to find a way to bring you back. And yesterday, I succeeded. I found the Dementor who had taken your soul, I freed your soul, killed the creature, and placed your soul back into your body – which was kept alive thanks to life-sustaining potions. Thus, I resurrected you. Now, lower your wand – Grindelwald won't attack you- sit down, and I'll tell you the rest."

It didn't go smoothly at all. He had not spoken two more sentences when his father jumped to his feet again, in an explosive outburst. Nevertheless, Orion had taken it all in stride and done what he had expected to be forced to do – he wandlessly forced his father back into his seat and swiftly casted paralyzing and silencing charms on him. Not even Remus said a word about it, even though Sirius' eyes had been spitting fire in indignant anger, while Grindelwald seemed to be viciously amused by it and Snape sneered something silkily contemptuous at Sirius.

Therefore, when Sirius could do nothing but move his eyes to glare at everyone and fix him with a hurt glance, Orion proceeded to finally say everything without interruptions. And he told them absolutely everything, as planned. He began from the very first day that he accounted as being the moment in which his quest had unwittingly started – when he was ten years old and had discovered Slytherin's locket in Regulus' room. And he told them what it was – a horcrux, and he explained in detail just what that was, for Remus' and Sirius' benefit. He told them about locket-Tom, and how he had discovered what a horcrux was by finding and entering Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets and finding Tom Riddle's empty diary. From there, he told them what only Grindelwald knew: about his first day at Durmstrang and when he had gone into the school's Chamber of Whispers to be sorted into an Order, and how he had seen the spirits of Mordred and Morgana for the first time. In wasn't long before he told them about the Vindico Atrum, Sebastian Valois, his Headmaster Vulcan Vagnarov, his professor Roman Komorov, about Calypso's father Romulus Rosier, and all the others that were the Aux Atrum, including the deceased Igor Karkaroff and Gregorovitch, and also his and Draco's childhood tutor Ragnarok and the books that the old wizard had given him.

He spoke about everything he knew about the Aux Atrum, about their goals, the spirits' manipulations, including that which had affected Salazar Slytherin, Cadmus Peverell, and Tom Riddle – briefly mentioning Horace Slughorn's part in the latter case. And he explained who Tom Riddle was at present, and he disclosed that Cadmus had been the Dementor he had killed and also the one mentioned in the Tale of the Three Brothers. From there, he unraveled to them the true meaning of the Tale, explaining about the Hallows, and also how he got two of them and how he was planning on getting the Elder Wand.

Moreover, he explained how he had discovered that he had been subjected to the consangri ritual when he had been a baby, and how by using it, James Potter had given him Potter blood and magically adopted him as his heir, with Lily knowingly supporting it.

He also explained how and why he had killed Barthemius Crouch, and what had happened during the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament when Neville Longbottom had been killed and he had done nothing to stop it, though he had saved Cedric Diggory from Bellatrix. Then, he went on to explain how he had served Horace Slughorn on a platter for Voldemort, who had ended up killing him, and also about how he had killed Peter Pettigrew, since it had been Voldemort's way of paying him back for giving him Slughorn.

He also mentioned in detail his incursion into the Department of Mysteries, about Lezander and his blood-bond with the vampire, about what had happened with the Veil, Dumbledore's actions, the prophecy and the meaning of it regarding the Dark Lords he had to supposedly kill. And about how his Phoenix wand had caused a Priori Incantatem with Voldemort's wand, and how he had seen Lily's and James' spirits and what had been said. After that, he went on chronologically, telling them how he and Voldemort, with locket-Tom's outburst, had discovered that he was a human-horcrux with a piece of Voldemort's soul inside him.

Furthermore, he told them what had happened when Dumbledore and the Aurors had forced him back with the Dursleys, what Vernon did, how he killed him and that Voldemort had killed Petunia and Dudley. He explained to Sirius that Severus became his guardian after that, since Lucius –his previous guardian- had been sent to Azkaban.

Also, he told them how he had discovered his unique dark magic during his first year at Durmstrang, and the things he could do with it, and how Grindelwald had helped him in that regard. He told them about the 'pull' that he and others powerful in dark magic felt, the consequences of it, and also about his Necromantic abilities and what little he could tell them about the Guild. And he disclosed that he had made a breakthrough in power of his dark magic after training with Grindelwald, and how he was taking a potion to contain his aura of dark magic.

He spoke about the Zravens, the vampire legend he knew very little of, about his suspicions regarding the Kraljica Mati, and his present situation with Lezander who he hadn't seen since finding out that he had truly saved him. He told them about his DA and Elite, and also about the Dark Allies, his allegiance with Remus and the Zravens, and his plans to undergo training to become a Necromancer. He explained about his commitment to go to Zraven Citadel during the summer, to solidify his allegiance with them, to train under Cyprian, and also all his other plans for the preparation for the real war. He included his plan of killing Grindelwald, while sparing Voldemort, and thus, only partly fulfilling the prophecy and going against what the spirits wanted him to do.

He disclosed Dumbledore's plans for him – that the old coot wanted him to confront Voldemort so that the wizard would kill him, along with the piece of soul inside of him. He explained further about the horcruxes, though not mentioning the ones he knew of, besides himself, and the Gaunt ring, locket and diary which were no more. He also revealed that he had visions, and told them what he saw in them, and what he was planning on doing to circumvent them.

Furthermore, as he told them more about the Vindico Atrum, he deeply dug into the matter of blood, since light wizards knew next to nothing about it and dark wizards knew only the essentials, but he had discovered much. He also told them about the Sources of Magic, what the spirits aimed for, what his candidacy as the Vindico Atrum entailed, about the legend regarding the prophet, and about his plans concerning that matter.

Also, he explained how he had transferred Voldemort's piece of soul into another receptacle, to free the Resurrection Stone. And about what had happened between Draco and him, and how he was sure, by now, that it had created an unparalleled bond between them – satisfying the 'trice-bonded' part of the little known vampire legend, since he was also blood-bonded to Lezander, and bonded with Voldemort due to the magical bonding ceremony and because he was a horcrux.

And from there, he plunged into his explanation of his relationship with Voldemort. How it started, how it progressed, and how he had finally decided to become the wizard's spouse. And at last, he updated them regarding his current circumstances with Voldemort –though not telling about his 'I love you' mistake and his present rocky situation due to it. Remus and Grindelwald knew about it, but they didn't say a word. Thus, he went on to explain how he had discovered Nymphadora Tonks passing off as Barty Crouch Jr., and how he left her with Remus, also including his plan of killing her if she didn't turn to the Dark's side.

At last, he explained how he had confronted Cadmus and resurrected Sirius, though he didn't tell them about what he had been forced to experience, or that it still happened to him. For that, he would wait until he was alone with Grindelwald, to try to find a solution with his mentor's help.

He didn't know how long he had talked, but by the end of it his throat was dry and his voice slightly hoarse. And all in all, he had told them absolutely everything – purposely, for it was his plan and much depended on their reactions. Given how they reacted, he would adjust his schemes, because the three of them -his father, Severus and Remus- were crucial for his plans and he needed to know if he could depend on them.

After saying his last, Orion remained silent, intently inspecting them. Sirius had obviously not said a word, still charmed, but he could see the brash anger, bristling outrage, deep worry, blazing disagreement, and a mesh of other emotions he couldn't quite decipher. Remus had kept quiet all that time; his amber eyes widening during some occasions, then turning concerned at others, though the werewolf had now a deeply pensive expression on his gentle face. On the other hand, Severus had also remained quiet, but with his eyes piercing him and narrowing most of times. At present, Orion could almost see the clogs working in Snape's sharp and cunning mind, taking in all the information disclosed and quickly piecing it together even more profoundly and consequentially, and no doubt weighing it and deciding his position on the matter.

And Grindelwald – well, the wizard simply looked darkly amused, with a darned crooked smirk on his face, while also observing the others, surely eagerly waiting for something entertaining to happen.

"Vindico Atrum? – and you believe in that," said a quiet voice, and Orion's eyes snapped to Remus.

"I do," said Orion impassively.

"I see," muttered Remus, shooting at him a concerned glance. "What can I say to you, cub? Not to kill Dumbledore? You know I disapprove of it, even if you need to have that wand you mentioned – that Hallow…" He shook his head and deeply sighed. "I wish I could tell you to disregard everything about this Vindico Atrum issue, but I know you won't. You've made your decision to try to become it. You left it clear when you told us that you were following your own path, independent from what the Spirits want of you. Yet..." He side-glanced at Grindelwald, before he bore his amber eyes into Orion's. "Yet you're planning on killing Grindelwald and on becoming a Necromancer. I don't like either, but I dislike even more the latter, though you know better than I do what it will do to you. You are resolved, then?"

"About killing Dumbledore and obtaining the Elder Wand – yes," replied Orion impassively. "About killing Gellert… I don't like it or want to do it, but I will, since he wants it as well… The pull… He feels the pull still. Ever since having left his warded cell in Nurmengard, the pull had been growing stronger inside him, as we knew it would happen." His gaze flickered to his mentor, and he wanly smiled at him before he glanced back at Remus. "Even if Gellert doesn't show it, or like to admit it, the pull affects him, growing stronger. If I didn't kill him, he would eventually go insane, because he can't go along with the pull of his magic and undertake the Vindico test-"

"The pull, as you call it, also affects Voldemort," pointed out Remus, "according to you."

"It does," said Orion, with a sharp nod of his head. "I told you that Voldemort has the same type of unique dark magic as Grindelwald and I. Just like me, Voldemort is the end-product of a long series of breeding crosses influenced by the spirits. He has our type of magic but not powerful enough to be detected by him, or used. Thus, his pull is not as strong as what Gellert feels and what I'll come to feel if I don't try to become the Vindico. But it's not because of that that I'm resolved to undergo the test, but because of-"

"I know, cub," interrupted Remus quietly, "you explained it at length. It's because you think that you need to be the Vindico in order to lead the Dark in the wars, so that we can have swifter victories will less casualties. But that's not necessarily true-"

"It is," interjected Orion curtly. "And even if it wasn't, my pull doesn't really leave me any other choices. Gellert and I have discussed my options at length, and none -except undergoing the VA test- are appealing to me. I won't do as Gellert did and allow some Dumbledore to lock me in a cell imbued with wards that would nullify my dark magic."

"I understand," muttered Remus, piercing him with his eyes, "and it's your call, cub, but I ask you to re-evaluate your decision of becoming a Necromancer. You're going to do it to obtain power – the power you won't obtain from Voldemort because you don't want to kill him." He shook his head, and added firmly, "I don't see how becoming a Necromancer is better than killing Voldemort. Not after you've told us how he tried to kill you when he discovered that you were Harry Potter, or what he did to you when-"

"It's thanks to my Necromantic abilities that Sirius is here, back with us," interrupted Orion calmly. "So how can you think that becoming a Necromancer will be bad for me? Imagine what I could do if I was a full-fledged Necromancer, Remus! The less savory consequences of it pale in comparison to what I would gain." He pierced him with his eyes, and added pointedly, alluding to their discussion about the whole 'I love you' issue, "And I thought you would understand why I want to spare Voldemort."

"I do understand," said Remus quietly, and then remained silent.

"I want to know," interjected Orion, eyeing him closely, "if you'll support me through all my plans, including my aim of becoming the Vindico and killing Dumbledore in order to obtain the last Hallow."

Remus' amber eyes snapped to his, and he said sharply, "I will. You know I will. But again, killing Dumbledore isn't necessary. You told us the terms of the Unbreakable Vow you took, and what Severus told you about Dumbledore's plan of using his Phoenix's tears to heal himself. Dumbledore believes that Severus took the Vow, and has planned accordingly for Severus to cast a curse that could kill him, so that Fawkes afterwards heals and saves him from death. Therefore, you can fulfill the Vow you took by casting at Dumbledore a curse that seriously injures him and could kill him if unattended, but not fight with him until death. Thus, Fawkes could save him afterwards. It's the intention of the action that matters in an Unbreakable Vow, cub."

"I know that, Remus," said Orion in a steely tone of voice. "But Dumbledore has much to pay for, and there's no way I won't duel with him until I kill him. After everything he has done to me, and Voldemort, I might add, he has it coming. I cannot allow him to live just for him to become a nuisance when the war truly erupts. The Light will be leaderless and weakened for a while without him." He shook his head, and added resolutely, "I won't change my mind."

Remus deeply sighed, before he said quietly with a frown on his face, "What about the possibility that the Vindico test will kill you?"

"It's acceptable to me," replied Orion, shrugging his shoulders. Then he smirked, and added deviously, "Besides, I have no intention of undergoing the test before turning even more powerful by killing Grindelwald and becoming a Necromancer. I'm not a self-sacrificing fool, Remus. In the end, I'm doing it as much as for the Dark's chances in the war as for myself – because I want to be powerful. I want to be the Vindico and then mold the wizarding world according to my beliefs."

"And what are those, cub?" said Remus sharply, intently boring his eyes into his. "You've spoken about the complex matter of the crossings between types of blood – about everything you read in Slytherin's journals. You even mentioned this Archive the Spirits have, which detail every bloodline they have manipulated, and their results. Are you going to base your decisions on Slytherin's research discoveries and what you find out from the Archives? And what if, as you suspect, you find that muggles and muggleborns indeed weaken the magic in our bloodlines? Will you condone their massacre? Will you execute it yourself, cub?"

"I would take measures," replied Orion firmly, "but which, I don't know yet, because I haven't accessed the Archives. That's one more task for me, in the future. Regardless, I have to study the matter deeply, and be certain that I won't make a decision lightly. Moreover, I would most surely rely more on laws restricting marriages and breeding, instead of going into a killing-spree." He faintly smirked at him, and added loftily, "I don't intend to become a mass-murdered, Remus."

"It's the easiest way, mein junge," interjected Grindelwald, shooting him a lopsided, toothy grin.

Remus frowned at the wizard, before turning to Orion, saying sternly, "You should have told me about him, cub. That you had broken him out and that he was alive-"

Grindelwald let out an amused crow of chortlings. "Ha! The werewolf disapproves of me - precious!"

"I do," said Remus curtly, his frown deepening. "And I don't particularly like the influence you have on Orion."

"Ja. You wouldn't, of course," interjected Grindelwald, crookedly smirking. "You consider him your 'cub', werewolf. And all of you werewolves are such overprotective creatures over your young." His smirk widened, and he added with a poignant barb, "I've been a positive influence on our young Lord and he doesn't need overprotective and restrictive pseudo-parents. Furthermore, I dare say that your protectiveness would be best invested in any cubbies you can have yourself – after all, you do have the natural ability for it, wolfie."

Orion frowned while his gaze flickered from one to the other, but his question got interrupted when Snape impatiently cleared his throat, and sneered acidly, "As fascinating as this uselessly inane chit-chat is, we have more important matters to discuss. The werewolf has already told you that he will stand by you, despite that you have concealed such important information from him - that's the stupid beast's prerogative." He pierced Orion with narrowed eyes, and added sharply, "I, on the other hand, demand to know why you didn't tell me about all of this sooner. Do you have any idea, you dim-witted brat, of how we could have planned for all of it better, had I only known?"

"What do you mean?" interjected Orion, frowning at him, puzzled.

Snape slowly took a deep intake of breath, as if summoning all the considerable patience he required to deal with feeble-minded idiots, and said crisply, "Where should I start? For instance, it would have been useful for me to know that Romulus Rosier is part of this society called the Aux Atrum, and that's he's been spying on the Dark Lord all this time, for them. It would have been highly advantageous for me, as well, to know that Sebastian Valois, one of the most influential members of the Dark Allies, is also an Aux Atrum who has been trying to help you." He pierced Orion with furious, narrowed eyes, and added tartly, "Had I known that they are your staunch supporters, or that they will be once you become this Vindico Atrum, then I would have surreptitiously plotted with them for our benefit. They are allies in key places, brat. And since I'm also your ally, I should have been informed! I cannot properly do my best spying and scheming work if such relevant information is withheld from me!"

"Well, I've told you now," interjected Orion, deeply frowning at him. "But you're taking all of this better than I expected. Aren't you surprised that I'm-"

"That you are powerful?" sneered Snape, foul-tempered. "Or that Morgana's and Mordred's spirits exist and that they have pegged you as a 'Vindico Atrum candidate'? The term is new to me, brat, but remember that I am a dark wizard, raised as such by my mother. Thus, that legend you regaled us with, regarding the 'prophet', isn't new to me." He bore his obsidian eyes into Orion's, and added dryly, "The Dark's prophet, indeed – that's what they think you can become, and I'll believe it when I see it. Nevertheless, despite that I've never put my faith in such things as prophetic legends, most of dark wizarding kind firmly believe in it, and we can use it for our benefit. Moreover, if you believe that it will be better for you to become a Necromancer, then go ahead. You're old enough to make your own decisions, and I'm not your nagging werewolf – nor would I protect you when you don't need it, as you obviously don't."

"Good," said Orion, beaming a true smile at him.

The wizard shifted in his seat to lean close to Orion, and with a dark expression on his face he said in a low, sharp voice, "Regardless, insufferable brat, think twice if you remotely believe that Dumbledore doesn't know about it."

"Albus knows nothing about the Vindico Atrum," interjected Grindelwald curtly, narrowing his hawk-like, hazel eyes at Snape. "Or about the Spirits."

Snape scoffed, and sneered snidely, "Never underestimate _Albus_, you geriatric old goat. You –out of all people- should know how resourceful the old man is, and how he digs into matters until he knows everything there is to know about them. The Dark's legend about a prophet isn't unknown to him. Dumbledore has made it his life's pursuit to be well cognizant on everything Dark – since he's the Dark's greatest opponent. And the Dark Arts comprises but a small part of what he has studied." He intently pierced Orion with his eyes, and added briskly, "I assure you that Dumbledore is not only fully aware of this prophet-business, but that it's also highly likely that he found out, Merlin knows when, that this Vindico Atrum is the prophet of the Dark's legends. Furthermore," he shot Grindelwald a scathing glance, "according to you, our dear friend here showed the old man his powers, when they were young, and even asked for Dumbledore's help to obtain Ignotus' Hallow – James Potter's Invisibility Cloak, which you said that Dumbledore kept in his desk, before you stole it from him in your fourth year. Moreover, he never showed you the memory where Voldemort's grandfather boasted about the Gaunt ring – another Hallow. This isn't mere coincide, Orion. And due to it, I can deduce that Dumbledore knows that the 'prophet' needs all the Hallows for this Vindico test you talk about, and that he purposely didn't show you the memory about the Gaunt ring because he didn't want you to see it. Thus-"

"Thus," interjected Orion, with a deep frown on his face while his gaze locked with his guardian's, "you believe that the old coot suspects about me? That maybe he knows that I stole the Cloak from him and that I want his wand because he realizes that I need to have all the Hallows, since I'm a Vindico candidate?"

"Precisely," said Snape, with a sharp nod of his head. "Even if Dumbledore doesn't know that Morgana and Mordred are here in spirit, and that they have been pulling the strings behind the scenes for centuries, the old man surely suspects what you're trying to do. I'm not saying that he knows all what you do regarding this Vindico Atrum issue, but it's safe –and necessary- to operate under the certainty that Dumbledore thinks that you believe yourself to be the prophet. Therefore, he'll be prepared if you try to take the Unbeatable Wand from him, and he'll try to obtain the rest of the Hallows as well." He arched an eyebrow, and drawled pointedly, "After all, you said that he went to the Gaunt cottage in search of the Resurrection Stone, moments after you did, and that you were able to leave with it in your possession after briefly dueling him, and without your identity being discovered. That tells you at what length he's prepared to go. It's clear that the Hallows are important to him, and the only reason why that may be, is because he wants to prevent other Grindelwald-like wizards from obtaining them. Therefore, he certainly knows more about the Hallows and this Vindico or prophet matter, however you want to call it, than you realized."

Orion pierced him with his eyes, and said impassively, "It doesn't come as a surprise, Severus. I did consider the possibility. After all, that Dumbledore didn't show me Ogden's memory was very revealing. And it was I who remarked upon it when I was explaining everything to you a while ago. Nevertheless, it changes nothing – I will still duel with him." He smirked, and added nonchalantly, "And perhaps, before I kill him, I'll force him to tell me how much he knew – just to satisfy my curiosity."

"And you're underestimating him," hissed Snape with sharp irritation, narrowing his eyes at him, "if you think you can defeat him so easily, when he was the Elder Wand as well."

"I didn't say it would be easy," interjected Orion, widely smirking. "But I have the advantage that he doesn't truly know how powerful I've become under Gellert's tutelage."

"A powerful dark aura which can be felt by others doesn't a duel-victor make," sneered Snape, shooting at him a grave yet scathing glance. "You might have, as you assure us, a dark aura as the likes of those of Dark Lords, but even Voldemort hasn't been able to best the old man in a duel. And Voldemort has decades of experience over you, as does Dumbledore."

"Yes, they do," said Orion placidly, "but it doesn't faze me, Severus. I know what my own abilities are." He waved a hand dismissively, and intently locked gazes with his guardian. "All of that is my problem, and I'll be ready when the time comes. What I want to know is your position regarding this matter and everything I've told you."

Snape arched an eyebrow, before he casually leaned back on his seat and nastily smirked at him, drawling silkily, "My, my, Orion, are you worried that I'll withdraw my allegiance from you?"

"Worried? No," said Orion pleasantly, though he smirked just as poignantly as him. "We took magical oaths a long time ago – remember? You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, and it has worked so far. What I wonder is just how firm your alliance is to me, after hearing all what I said."

"I don't ally myself with the losing side, brat," said Snape, his black eyes glittering while his lips curved upwards. "All I need to say is that you haven't lost my allegiance."

Orion smirked at him with satisfaction. Even if the wizard was too proud, or damned stubborn, to say it openly, he could easily discern his guardian's tacit loyalty and agreement. Severus was nothing if not a sly survivor, who had cast, even before now, his chances with him. Therefore, now that he had revealed to the wizard everything about the Vindico Atrum, his dark magic and Necromantic abilities, it was only to be expected that Severus would be more firmly entrenched on his side. Nevertheless, he needed to know just how much, since Severus was a key player for him, in the war.

"And how much are you willing to do for me?" asked Orion mildly, though he intently inspected him.

Snape arched an eyebrow, and said tartly, "Depends. What will you ask of me, brat?"

"I want you to seemingly remain a loyal Order member," said Orion instantly. "No matter what happens with Dumbledore, and even after I kill the old coot, I will need you to spy for me on the Light. So no matter what, behave as an Order member would – when the time comes. Also, you'll have to appear to be a loyal Death Eater. I don't want Voldemort to know that you really support me instead of him."

"That's acceptable," said Snape, piercing him with his obsidian eyes. "But am I to assume that you're planning on having problems with the Dark Lord, or breaking from him, and that that is why you're asking me to continue my spying activities on him?"

"Nothing of the sort," replied Orion dismissively. "I simply value being kept well-informed." He smiled wryly, and added, "And Voldemort has been known to keep things from me. Thus, I need you as a source of information regarding dealings in Death Eater ranks."

"Very well," said Snape curtly. Then the man smirked at him with vicious relish, and said silkily while side-glancing at Sirius, "Now I think you should hear what your flea-bitten mutt of a father has to say."

Orion inwardly grimaced as his gaze landed on his father, seeing that the wizard's dark grey eyes were spitting fire, his face red in anger, while breathing in blustering, loud gusts of air. Sighing, and with a hint of reluctance, he swished his wand in the air, summarily cancelling the charms on his father.

In the blink of an eye, Sirius jump to his feet, wildly gesturing as he roared furiously, "AM I THE ONLY WHO HASN'T LOST ALL HIS SENSES?" He pierced Orion with his grey eyes, and raged angrily, "Where do I start, pup? Spirits – prophets – rubbish, all of it! Morgana and Mordred?" He loudly snorted, and continued his rant, "I don't give two figs about who they are, but you're not doing any of it! Do you hear, son? And to become a Necromancer? Well, over my dead body, pup!"

Then he pointed an accusing finger at Grindelwald, fixing Orion with a blazing gaze, as he spluttered angrily, "They've brainwashed you, son! All of them have - these Aux people you mentioned and this mass-murderer of muggles! You can't trust a single one of them. As for the legend…" He scoffed scathingly, and his voice rose to an angry and vehement pitch, "My mother always tried to brainwash Regulus and I with that tripe about the legend regarding a prophet of the Dark! A prophet who would defend the Dark and bring it glory, purifying all dark bloodlines! It's utter rubbish, I tell you – I never believed it!"

Sirius towered over Orion, his dark grey eyes seething in fury, and added in a frenziedly frantic bellow, "And what possessed you to bound yourself to VOLDEMORT – the man who murdered your mother and tried to murder you when you were a baby! That murdering psychopath - that madman has Imperioused you, pup!" He clutched Orion by the lapels of his robes, lifting him up, with a desperate and wild look in his eyes. "I know he must have, and we're going to fix it right now, son – don't worry!"

"What?" choked out Orion with alarm, the second his father aimed his wand at him. Instantly, he wandlessly casted a disarming spell at his father, gripping tightly the wand that came shooting into his spread palm, and he snapped angrily, "Haven't you heard a word of what I said, father? I explained why I became Voldemort's spouse and no one has Imperioused me, for Merlin's sakes!"

"Oh, yes they have!" spat Sirius, looking quite deranged to Orion. "And we're going to undo your magical bond with that evil psychopath, and you aren't going to see him again, and I'm taking you out of the bloody continent!" He leveled at Orion a resolutely stern and overbearing gaze, and snapped forcefully, "And all this madness about Vindicos, horcrux-thingies, hallows and whatnots, prophecies, legends, and killing Dumbledore, and others, will end! You are not a murderer, son – if you killed Crouch Sr. and Peter, then you weren't yourself – surely you were under some evil dark spell. And you ARE NOT going to be involved in any battles or wars, and you are not going to visit any sodding vampires or become a bloody Necromancer! And for once you're going to obey me, pup, because I will not have it any other way!"

Sirius folded his arms to underscore his point and did his utmost to sternly glare down at Orion in a classic 'Father Knows Best' fashion, a proposition complicated by the fact that the wizard hadn't been around to be his father for quite a while.

"Did you even pause to think about anything I said?" interjected Orion slowly, bristling with fuming anger. "I explained to you everything in detail, my reasons, and the pressing importance that I attempt to become the Vindico, for the sake not only of the Dark's chances in the war, but also for the magical strength and purity of our dwindling bloodlines! And becoming the VA includes, first, becoming a Necromancer and also killing Dumbledore to get the last hallow-"

"I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S ARSE ABOUT BLOODLINES AND THOSE HALLOW-THINGIES!" yelled Sirius, blustering and puffing with anger. "And I won't have my own son sinking deeper into this madness, with the aim of becoming a deranged Dark Lord – I will not have it! And I'm your father and you WILL obey me-"

"My father?" spat Orion heatedly, feeling increasingly incensed with every word that Sirius spouted. "Since when? You've been gone for almost FOUR years! Lucius Malfoy and Severus have been more of a father to me than you have!"

He saw the deep hurt in his father's eyes, but he didn't stop, as bitter recriminations long locked away bubbled into the surface of his mind, also knowing –but not caring- that they were also spurred by what he had felt as Regulus when Sirius had abandoned him.

Orion eyed him coldly, and sneered, "You lost all right to voice your opinions regarding my life, _father_, when you left me in order to pursue Pettigrew to have your revenge! And that wasn't the first time you abandoned me, was it? You left me when I was a baby too, after mom and James got killed – you handed me to that oaf Hagrid, knowing he would take me to Dumbledore, who then left me with the fucking Dursleys in a crappy childhood!"

"I – I," spluttered Sirius, before he firmly set his jaw, and snapped with fierce defensiveness, "You were Harry Potter then – I didn't know you were my son!"

"But you thought I was your godson!" yelled Orion madly. "And you still left me in order to go after Pettigrew! It's the story of my life – you cared more about having your revenge, than about me. I warned you that it wasn't safe to go to Hogwarts, and you knew the chances were very high that you would be captured – the proof is that you left a letter behind, for me to read. So you knew, but you went, regardless! And I had to spend four years without you, and quite frankly, I don't need your bloody input concerning my life anymore! My choices are my own – and I will not sever my magical bond with Voldemort. I am his HORCRUX and that can't be changed. And I chose him as my spouse and I have no intention of leaving him!" He pierced him with narrowed eyes, and added sharply, "And I'll become a full-fledged Necromancer if I bloody well decide to, and I'll came and go as I see fit, and I'll finish what I bloody started and become the Vindico! And there's nothing you can say or do to change ANY of it!"

"We'll see about that, pup!" said Sirius sharply. Abruptly, his expression fell into one of deep concern, and he said with frantic worry and vehemence, "You are Imperioused or Voldemort has cast on you some other spell – surely you are not yourself! And I know who can help us, pup. I'm taking you to Dumbledore – he'll know how to lift the curse you're under!"

Orion pierced him with furious, narrowed eyes, and instantly aimed his wand at him as he hissed in a low, deadly voice, "Try to take me to Dumbledore and we're through, father. You're not daft and you know as many dark curses as I do. Look into my eyes – they are clear. I'm not under the Imperious Curse or any other, and you bloody well know it! And you know that since I was a little boy I have been fascinated by Voldemort; with curiosity, reluctant admiration, and most of times with hatred as well, but he was my obsession from the start-"

"Because of that bloody locket horcrux thing!" roared Sirius. "And you should have told me about it the instant you found it-"

"Yes, Tom had a great deal to do with it," interrupted Orion in a steely tone of voice. "But I got to know Voldemort after that, and I also wanted him. So you know why I chose to marry him - I wanted him before I even knew it. But that's not the issue-at-hand; your choice is. Regardless if you choose to delude yourself by believing that my decisions during these four years weren't freely made, if you attempt to take me to Dumbledore we're done. I'm not kidding – I will completely obliviate from your mind everything you know about me, and then I'll drop you somewhere so that you can do whatever you want. But you won't remember much about me, and nothing at all about what I revealed to you today, and I'll never see you again. Is that clear? Now, make your choice!"

The silence that spread between them was pressing and unbearably tense, as the others who were intently observing them didn't beep a word. Though Orion didn't peel his gaze away from his father, so he couldn't tell what their reactions were.

"You don't mean it," said Sirius in a tight, hoarse voice, staring at him with wide eyes, his face having suddenly lost all of its color.

"I do," said Orion sharply, eyeing him with a cold, hard glint in his eyes, without an ounce of emotion showing in his face, since he really meant what he had said and was prepared to go through with it. "You are my father, and I love you, but I won't have you by my side if you choose to become an obstacle in my path. Becoming the Vindico is my highest priority and goal – for the Dark, and myself. I know you never really went back to the Dark's side; you became a Death Eater to protect me from Voldemort. Nevertheless, I am truly on the Dark's side now, and that's something you'll have to accept without complains if you want to stay with me. If not, as I said, I'll obliviate you and everything will be fixed and you'll have the freedom to go back to the manipulative old codger – and good luck with that, and with explaining how you're alive when you won't remember that I did it or how."

"What has happened to you?" croaked out Sirius, looking completely despondent, beaten, and sorrowful.

"I grew up," replied Orion shortly, piercing him with his eyes.

Abruptly, Sirius sprung forth and tightly clutched Orion's shoulders, as he said adamantly, "Listen to me, son. Something isn't right with you and we have to discover what it is-"

But, suddenly, Sirius' eyes glowed joyfully, and he let out a loud bout of giggles, before he exclaimed giddily, "Today is a luvverly jubberly day!"

Orion stared at him horrified, with his jaw hanging agape. The man had lost it! His father had just – giggled? He could concede that his father had a natural cheerful and mischievous disposition, and that the wizard was a prankster, but the man had always been too smooth and cool to do something such as 'giggling'. And he instantly panicked, as he was struck with the possibility that his father was this way because he had been resurrected.

That was until he caught sight of Grindelwald, who was crookedly smirking while watching Sirius with gleeful and sadistic amusement.

Instantly, Orion narrowed his eyes at his mentor, and indignantly pointed at his father, who was now happily twirling around the room. "What did you do to him? You casted a spell on him, didn't you?"

"Ja," replied Grindelwald impassively, gazing at Sirius while his lips curled into a highly amused smirk. "A cheering charm. He had it coming. He was getting on my nerves, and his yells were giving me a headache– he's too stupidly stubborn, mein junge."

"Oh, come and stirrrr my cauldrooon, luv," merrily sang Sirius at the top of his lungs, with a goofy, lopsided grin plastered on his face, "and if you do it right, I'll boil you up some hot, strong loooveeee to keep you warm tooonight!"

Orion wildly gestured at his father, and said frantically, "Well, you obviously overdid it, Gellert! Look at the man – he looks as if he was high on muggle drugs!"

"It will pass," said Grindelwald dismissively, utterly unrepentant and looking to be quite enjoying himself.

"You charmed the heart right out of meeee," sang Sirius in a jazzy tune, who had now grabbed a robe-hanger as a dancing partner, while he spun and frolicked around the room. "Oh, my poor heart, where has it gooone? It's left me for a speeell... You stole my cauldron but you can't have my heaaart! You can't have my loooooveee!"

Orion saw Snape smirking with vicious relish, also intently observing Sirius, as if trying to burn the image into his mind to have something to recall and enjoy forever – a duplicate of the memory was going straight into his guardian's pensieve, he had no doubt about that.

"Undo it, Gellert!" snapped Orion briskly.

"Nein," said Grindelwald, shooting him a sharp, toothy grin. "There's nothing better to watch, mein junge."

Orion angrily huffed, whipping out his wand to cancel the overdone cheering charm on his father, but a hand instantly gripped his wrist.

"Let him be happy and carefree for a few more minutes, cub," said Remus, his amber gaze fixed on Sirius with fondness and warmth, while his lips twitched as if suppressing laughter. "It will be good for him after everything he has learned. It was difficult for me to accept all what you have done and kept a secret, so I can barely imagine how your father must have felt. It was certainly hard for him, and he'll have this to remember as a fun anecdote." He side-glanced at Orion, and added with a faint smile, "That is, after his subsequent anger passes."

"Oh, well - fine," muttered Orion, dropping tiredly on the couch besides Remus and soon joining the others in observing how his father joyfully sang some ridiculous sappy song at the top of his lungs, while twirling and spinning around the room, charmingly and heavily flirting with the robe-hanger.


	14. Loki's fate & Repercussions

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Thanks to all reviewers! Regretfully, I can't reply to specific reviews here since FF net warned me that they would pull down my fics if I did so. Apparently it goes against the rules - no idea why, but I will have to obey *sighs*. So I will just reply to reviews here in a general manner, without mentioning your nicknames.

So here it goes. I want to clarify some of your doubts:

First, it isn't that Orion would literally become insane by the memories of his past lives, but they can drive him to the point of affecting him deeply because he is forced to experience painful and tough recollections. It would slightly unhinge anyone, I think - not making him a raving lunatic, but yes perturbed.

Second, someone mentioned that Orion is being very unfair towards Voldemort, since the wizard hasn't done anything bad to him lately - and I agree with that opinion. On the other hand, there are many who wish that Orion was colder and more unemotional towards Voldemort – and I agree with that as well. So the only thing that I can say about the matter is that Orion's actions will be affected by circumstances -fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your view. Many of you will think that he isn't acting the way he should, others will feel disappointed or glad… so I dunno, it's impossible to satisfy everyone, but things will take their course towards the ultimate ending, and we are approaching it. I would dearly like to make Orion the cold and ruthless wizard of his visions, and I would also like him to finally fix things with Voldemort instead of always fighting, but those two things clash, and for now it will be something in the middle, until key circumstances happen and he'll be forced to make a bloody decision regarding his 'love' for Voldemort *grins*. But we're almost there…

Third, Orion is already resolved to kill Grindelwald – in that, he's being ruthless and a cool-headed and unemotional thinker, despite how much he likes the old wizard. Someone mentioned that Orion could seep the dark magic from Grindelwald without the necessity of killing the old wizard, but Orion hasn't even contemplated the possibility of searching for some obscure dark ritual to do it, since it's fairly obvious that someone like Grindelwald would prefer death over being left as a magicless person, a squib. So just taking Grindelwald's magic without killing the man isn't a possibility. Not killing the wizard at all isn't a possibility either, since Orion needs the dark magic in order to elevate his chances of surviving the Vindico test. And he has to kill Grindelwald anyway since the 'pull' that Grindelwald feels would eventually drive him insane – like it slightly and mildly happens to Voldemort. This is what the prophecy is all about: someone will be born –a VA candidate- who will have to kill Dark Lords, because he can't survive as long as a Dark Lord lives. Grindelwald explained this interpretation at length: Dark Lords exist in the absence of a Vindico candidate, and when one VA candidate appears, powerful and with great chances of succeeding in becoming the VA, then the candidate must kill any Dark Lord alive in order to have their dark magic, to thus follow the pull of their dark magic without going insane and thus 'surviving' the VA test they will be compelled to undergo by that very same pull of their magic. This is how the Spirits have always set up matters throughout history. It's their way to assure that someday a candidate will exist and triumph. That's why the Spirits have always manipulated crosses between bloodlines, affecting people and giving them a mind 'nudge' to marry this one or other, so that they could produce powerful witches or wizards who would become Dark Lords or VA candidates. That's why they always want a Dark Lord to rise, so that when a candidate rises as well, he'll have someone to kill as their source for more power.

And finally, the 'thrice-bonded' issue regarding Orion, and already fulfilled, doesn't necessarily mean that Orion will be with Lezander, Draco, and Voldemort at the same time, or that all of them will be his lovers. Orion knows next to nothing about the vampire legend which mentions the 'thrice-bonded' part. He only knows that he's the one the legend foretells about. But it doesn't mean that he can't just be friends with his bonded mates, or that he has to love them. We'll discover more once he goes to Zraven Citadel to demand answers from the Krajilca Mati, since he believes that she has something to do with the legend and his visions.

So there it goes, and if someone has more questions don't doubt in telling me! I love them *winks*

Ah, and this chapter and the following one will be a bit slow, but things will certainly pick up and go much quicker in the next ones, since we're approaching the end of his sixth year and we all know what's going to finally happen then *grins*.

And for those who were interested in knowing the meaning of 'Argonaut', in ancient Greek, 'argos' means bright, and 'naut' means sailor, explorer, traveler, adventurer, etc.

So I hope you enjoy this chapter, and let me know your opinions in your reviews!

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**Chapter 14 **

After they all had a succulent dinner, served by Daisy and other solicitous Potter Manor house-elves, they went back to the main parlor to have some much needed firewhiskey.

Orion already had a pounding headache, since throughout the day he had repeatedly spoken to his father, retelling him all what he had done and persuasively exposing his reasons for it, as well as the importance of becoming the Vindico. Thankfully, Remus had helped him with the task, but their progress had been very slow if not null – doors had been slammed, voices angrily risen, and tumblers flung and crashed.

Not to mention that Sirius was still bristling with indignation at having been the recipient of the cheering charm. The wizard had repeatedly tried to launch himself in an assault at Grindelwald, though Orion and Remus had restrained him, much to Grindelwald's disappointment since the old wizard had been eagerly awaiting an opportunity to get a little dueling exercise.

Nevertheless, Orion was partly satisfied, since he had also calmly discussed matters further with Remus and Severus. He had seen that Remus truly supported him, no matter what, despite sharing different views on the matter of muggles and the necessity of killing those who got in the way. He also perceived that he had Severus' fierce loyalty, that they both knew that cunning and ruthlessness were necessary, and that he could count on his guardian for the most dangerous and tricky tasks were slyness was needed. And Severus had already proved once again his value by putting his sharp mind to use when he and Orion had schemed what their next steps should be in preparation for the war. Orion already regarded the wizard as his master spy, his most tactical thinker, and his best plotter – all in all, an invaluable supporter.

At present, while he rubbed his pounding forehead, Orion glanced at his guests. He knew Remus would be getting back to Lycaon soon, Severus had to return to Hogwarts, and so did he, since tomorrow was Monday. He had already glamoured the black burns left on his skin by the Dementor, and also written his letters to Vagnarov, Titania and Calypso. All the letters had been very brief. To Vagnarov, he simply told that he had succeeded and that all was well – he would further discuss matters with his Headmaster the following weekend. To Titania –who had become his trusted right-hand after Calypso stopped attending DA practice sessions- he reveled that he had used his Necromantic abilities to resurrect his father, and that he wanted her to tell the Elite, since such proof of power would solidify his position as their leader. Though, he also knew that their subsequently increased awed respect would cause a further leader-follower distancing between them. Regardless, he knew it was necessary. As Grindelwald often told him, being a leader was a position of solitude, for either a Dark Lord or the Vindico.

Finally, the letter to Calypso had been the hardest to write, since he didn't quite known what to tell her after so many months of not privately talking with her. Nevertheless, he ended up telling her in detail how he had resurrected his father, though he didn't mention the lingering consequences of experiencing his past lives' memories. But he was glad to have written to her since she, most particularly, knew for how long and exhaustively he had planned to bring his father back to life.

And not three hours had passed before he received an owl with a reply letter from her.

The letter had warmed his heart at the evident happiness she felt in his behalf. But he had also felt a pang of dejection because she hadn't written anything regarding herself and what had been troubling her all these months. Nevertheless, it was obvious to him that he still had her friendship, even if they weren't as close as before and even if she didn't share her troubles with him. It had been enough for him to know that she still cared.

But another matter had slightly troubled him. Throughout the day, he had felt his Black Heir ring burning. He wore the portkey on the necklace with the pendant of the stag, dog, and werewolf, which was the portkey into Lycaon that Remus had given him months ago. Thankfully, by being worn on the chain -in contact with his shirt and not his skin- rather than on his finger, the Black Heir ring couldn't successfully portkey him away. But it was certain that Voldemort was insistently summoning him. And he hoped that it wasn't because the wizard had felt anything of when he had confronted Cadmus, and thus, that Voldemort was now looking to demand some answers. Thankfully, he knew it wasn't probable.

He had always been the one who felt their 'link' the most, as was expected since he was the horcrux. And he had raised his Occlumency barriers to full power when confronting the Dementor. All in all, he knew that Voldemort had to be summoning him because he had left Riddle Manor without any explanations, after Draco and he had caught Nymphadora Tonks. So he finally decided to ignore the burning ring, and to deal with Voldemort the following weekend, to have some time to think about what he would tell the wizard.

At present, as they all indulged in after-dinner drinks, Orion took a small sip from his firewhiskey, before he set the tumbler on the low table and gazed at his father and Remus. The wizards had been quietly arguing between them, no doubt about what he had disclosed to them, but now his father was starting to raise his voice, looking angered in his disagreement.

He sighed and stood up, approaching them as he surreptitiously took hold of his wand.

"Dad," said Orion quietly, "there're some more issues to discuss."

"What is it, pup?" said Sirius, peeling his angered gaze from Remus and looking up at him.

"You'll be staying here with Gellert," said Orion without preambles. "You cannot go back to Black Manor. Everyone knows that it's my home, and-"

"I'm not staying with that mass-murderer," snapped Sirius, crossing his arms over his chest and throwing a glowering dark glance at Grindelwald, who merely deviously smirked back. "I can go to Grimmauld's Place." His grey eyes suddenly sparkled, and he added excitedly, "Or I can live in a nice manor we have in Nice! I never got the chance to take you there but the place and village are charming, and-"

"No," interrupted Orion curtly. "That's a Black property as well, and Dumbledore surely knows about it too. Potter Manor is the only place that no one knows that is still standing and that I have access to it." He sighed at his father's rebellious expression, and added more kindly, "Dad, no one can know yet that you're alive. The Aurors would want to capture you again and throw you in Azkaban. Voldemort would force you back into Death Eater ranks, since you still bear the Dark Mark. And Dumbledore…" He clenched his jaw, and pierced his father with his eyes. "And the old coot would use you against me, and that's something I can't allow. Not yet."

"Not yet?" interjected Sirius, frowning up at him. "What are you planning, pup?"

Orion calmly took a seat across from him, and replied calmly, "It depends. Do I count with your loyalty or not?"

"Of course you do," said Sirius adamantly, looking heated in his vehemence. "I would rather DIE than betray you! You are my son! But that doesn't mean that I agree with what you're planning on doing." He shook his head, and added fiercely, "Becoming a Necromancer, killing Dumbledore, leading vampires, werewolves and that DA of yours, remain being Voldemort's spouse, directly participating in the war and putting yourself in danger, and this madness about the test to become this Vindico thing!"

"What is it about all that which bothers you the most?" demanded Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "Is it that I want to kill Dumbledore? Or that I want to become the Vindico, which is as worse as becoming a Dark Lord in your opinion? Or-"

"Look, I don't care if you kill Dumbledore," snapped Sirius, piercing him with his grey eyes, and Orion inwardly sighed with relief since he had taken painstakingly care, throughout the day, to remind his father about everything that the old coot had done to them. "I care if you kill anyone at all. I never wanted you to become a killer, pup! And Dumbledore… Well, I grant you that you have valid reasons to want him gone - as do I, pup, remember that!" Orion's lips twitched, since he had been the one who had pointed out to his father those past grievances, but he said nothing and allowed the wizard to continue his tirade. "But still, pup, he's someone you can turn to if you're in a dangerous situation – if Voldemort turns against you! That's why I think you shouldn't kill the old man. Dumbledore is the Light's greatest hope and he can help you if-"

"If nothing, father," interrupted Orion sternly, having heard enough. "I would never turn to Dumbledore. Even if I turned against Voldemort, which I won't, I would never betray the Dark by going to the old coot. You know that! And as you said, we both have reasons to despise the old codger, so stop bringing up my plan to kill him. Furthermore, get used to the idea that I'll be killing plenty of other people. I've killed already, and in a war it's a necessary and common occurance."

"That's my point," said Sirius sharply, "I don't want you to be involved in the war, at all!" His expression softened and he gripped Orion's hands, as he said with deep emotion, "Don't you understand, pup, that I've lost countless years of my life? And that I want to make it up to you, for me not being there, and that it would destroy me if you were killed? I cannot bear to think of you going into battle, of the chances that you'll be hurt or that you won't come back alive."

"I do understand," interjected Orion quietly, closely scrutinizing him. "And there's a solution for that, once you accept that I won't change my mind about becoming the Vindico and about all that I'll have to do to accomplish it."

"Alright," grumbled Sirius, with a reluctant expression on his face. "I'm not saying that I agree with you becoming this Vindico thing, but tell me what your solution is."

Orion pierced him with his eyes, and said calmly, "It's simple, really. Your greatest objection to all my plans is that I would be in danger, with high chances of ending up dead. Then, help me so that it doesn't happen. In the past, you became a Death Eater so that you could spy on them and thus protect me from anyone discovering that I was Harry Potter. Therefore, do the same now. Help me with my plans. With your assistance, the chances of me getting hurt would greatly decrease."

"You want me to go back being a Death Eater?" said Sirius, frowning at him, looking fleetingly troubled.

"No. Merlin's knows how Voldemort would use you to have a greater hold over me," replied Orion, smirking at him while he inched his face closer to his father's. "I want you to go to Dumbledore."

"What harebrained scheme is this?" interjected Snape with a sneer, who had been intently observing them with narrowed eyes. He pointed a finger at Sirius, and said with a silkily scathing voice, "The mongrel is a dim-witted, Gryffindorish idiot and Dumbledore would instantly read his mind like an open book!"

"Who are you calling an idiot, Snivellus!" roared Sirius, instantly refrained by Remus from jumping at Snape. "And I'm no mongrel! I dare you to say it again-"

"Yes, he would," said Orion happily to Snape, smirking at him while utterly ignoring his father's outburst. "That's why I need someone to teach Occlumency to my father. I calculate that Draco will be done with his task in two months. Therefore my father has to learn Occlumency before that – before I kill Dumbledore. He has to be prepared to Occlude his mind, so that he can go to Dumbledore to be accepted in the Order. I need spies in the Light's side, and you aren't enough. There might be a situation in which you could be forced to show your true allegiance to the Dark. But my father…" He relaxedly leaned against his armchair, his smirk widening. "Well, after everything that has happened, Dumbledore would readily believe that my father truly wants to support the Light because he doesn't want me to be subjected to 'dark influences' anymore. Then, my father could be one more spy for us, and tell us what the Light is planning, even after I kill Dumbledore."

"I will not spend my valuable time teaching tricks to the mutt!" bit out Snape, his sour expression one of absolute disgust. He scoffed, and added with dripping snide, "And the mongrel doesn't have the abilities to possess an organized mind. He's a brash, weak-minded, moronic, useless lump of a wizard-"

"Sit down and calm down, father," said Orion sharply, glancing at Sirius who was spitting fire, still restrained by Remus. He turned his gaze back to Snape, and said nonchalantly, "It's not you who's going to teach him Occlumency. You cannot disappear from Hogwarts every evening to come here." He casually side-glanced at Grindelwald. "Gellert?"

The old wizard crookedly smirked at him, his hawk-like gaze flickering with a sadistic gleam to Sirius. "Ja. I accept. It would keep me entertained."

"I'm not going to be taught by a mass-murderer!" spat Sirius, looking ruffled and indignantly angry. "And I know Occlumency already. I had to learn before going to Voldemort to become a Death Eater. Remember, pup?"

"Yes, but you never mastered it," interjected Orion sharply. "You relied more on leaving crucial memories in the pensieve. This time, you cannot do it because I'm sure Dumbledore will scrutinize every inch of your mind. And he'll use Legilimency without you being aware. Unlike Voldemort, who digs in sharply and brutally, without caring if he inflicts pain, Dumbledore will do it carefully and surreptitiously. And if you have holes in your mind, he'll suspect you. Therefore, you cannot use the pensieve and you'll have to fully master Occlumency. If you do, you can block away memories, and modify them, without Dumbledore finding out. Grindelwald can teach you this." He intently gazed at his father, and added quietly, "I know you can master it in a few months if you really try. You are powerful, Dad, even though you've never bothered to develop and use your abilities. And if you care about helping me, so that I can succeed in my plans without dying, then you'll do this – for my sake."

After a stretch of silence, Sirius plopped down on his seat, and said with reluctant defeat, "Fine, I'll learn." He pierced Orion with his grey eyes, and demanded, "You want me to go to Dumbledore to become an Order member, to spy on them? And then what, pup? When will I do this? When can I go out in public? I cannot stay locked up forever, only revealing that I'm alive to Dumbledore and the Order! And how will I explain that I'm alive-"

"You'll have to remain hidden for a while," interrupted Orion calmly. "You'll be living here with Grindelwald all the time, even after you finish mastering Occlumency and after you convince Dumbledore that you're on their side. To convince the old coot, tell him your real objections – he suspects already that I'm truly supporting the Dark, even if he doesn't openly show it to me. But he doesn't know that I'm Voldemort's spouse, though he knows that I have a close relationship with him – Nymphadora told him that. Of course that you won't be telling Dumbledore anything of what I revealed to you today, including that Grindelwald lives. As for how you're alive…"

He placidly took a sip from his firewhiskey, as if he was pondering about the matter though he had already thought about it in detail.

Once he set the tumbler back on the low table, he pierced his father with his eyes, and continued nonchalantly, "Well, you'll have to tell him the truth - that I resurrected you. Don't tell him, however, anything about the Gaunt ring, who the Dementor was, about the Guild and the Gate, or the details of how I accomplished it. You wouldn't be expected to know anyway, since you really don't remember and I had to tell you about it. Moreover, the old coot knows I have Necromantic abilities; he was there when I pulled out Lezander from the Veil. Even if he believes that I had pulled out a soulless body, only someone with Necromantic abilities could have done that. And he saw my eyes turning all-black. Therefore, you won't be revealing to him anything he doesn't already know or suspect. As for what you'll do once you are accepted into the Order: you would be spying for me. Afterwards, we'll see what else."

"Okay," muttered Sirius, before he pierced Orion with his eyes, and added pointedly, "This doesn't mean that my objections -to you being involved in the war and becoming the Vindico thing- have vanished."

"Then we'll have to discuss it further," interjected Orion impassively, "until I make you understand how important it is." He waved a hand dismissively. "Regardless, there will be time for that. I'll be coming here every night during this week. I can apparate directly from the Chambers of Secrets without Hogwarts' wards detecting it. It's necessary, though out of caution I haven't exploited it much."

Sirius worriedly frowned at him. "You shouldn't come if there's a chance that Dumbledore will find out-"

"He won't, because he doesn't know that I discovered the Chamber of Secrets," interrupted Orion calmly. "Even if he comes to suspect, it wouldn't matter since he suspects me already. And it's necessary that I came here, Dad. You're the first wizard who has been successfully resurrected, and you were Kissed, so Merlin knows the consequences of it. It's probable that you'll have nightmares in your sleep, and also whilst being awake, like happened to you in the morning. And I want to be here at nights to see how you're doing, and to help you, if needed."

"Alright, thanks, pup," said Sirius, brightly smiling at him, and looking utterly unconcerned about what possible repercussion he could experience after having been resurrected. "I want to spend as much time as possible with you, son. I'll cherish the moments."

Orion warmly smiled back at him, feeling an unexpected small surge of love for the wizard. He hadn't expected it, because, quite frankly, he hadn't felt it much since Sirius had awoken. Nevertheless, he knew that the mild love he felt for his father was nothing in comparison to what he had felt when he had been younger and the wizard had been alive. It fleetingly worried him that his feelings for his father were so muted, wondering if it meant something consequential. But, he had to admit to himself, that after being without Sirius for so long, he had become used to not needing or wanting a parent. Thus, his detached, muted love for his father was perhaps understandable. Furthermore, he knew that Sirius would still, occasionally, bring him trouble.

"What a touching moment," sneered Snape acidly, eyeing them with disgust. "If we're done with paltry sentimentalities, I'll take my leave, since it seems to me that we've covered the important issues."

"We have," said Orion nonchalantly, while he stood up and surreptitiously took a firmer hold of his wand, "but stay for just one more minute, Severus. There's something I want you to see."

Then, he swiftly turned towards his father, towering over him since the wizard was seated, and he said quietly, "I trust you, Dad - really. But I don't trust your impulsive nature and your tendency of speaking without thinking about it twice. So you'll understand if I do this."

In the bat of an eyelash, he aimed his wand at his father's forehead, and hissed in parseltongue, "_Clausus mentiss!_"

Sirius had sprung to his feet, alarmed, but a golden beam instantly struck the wizard's forehead and formed a golden sphere. It sunk through his head, enveloping Sirius' mind, while Orion inwardly hissed the detailed instructions for the formation of the compulsion mind web.

"What did you do, pup?" gasped out Sirius, looking at him with startled eyes, while worriedly touching his head.

"I formed a mind web around your mind," replied Orion impassively. "It won't be detected by anyone, not even Dumbledore when he legilimizes you. Thanks to it, you won't be able to reveal anything important of what I told you today. But you'll be able to discuss such matters with those who are present here." He bore his eyes into his father's grey ones, and said quietly, "It's for your benefit, Dad - and for my sake." He purposely warmly smiled at him, and added, "Now you won't need to watch what you say around Order members. The mind web will do that for you."

"You cursed me – your own father?!"

"Yup," said Orion, utterly unfazed. "It's necessary." His gaze flickered to Snape, and he smirked at his guardian. "See, Severus, I am cautious and know what I'm doing."

"I'm glad to see that even though you have Potter blood and are the mutt's spawn, you have some senses in you, brat," drawled Snape silkily, briefly shooting Sirius a nasty smirk. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Orion."

And with that, the wizard swiftly popped away in an apparition, since Orion had adjusted, during the day, Potter Manor's wards to only allow Remus and Severus to apparate in and out. He would key the wards to Sirius once he deemed that his father was ready to go to Dumbledore.

"You cursed me with that web thing," bit out Sirius angrily, rounding on him, "and you didn't do it to Snivellus?! You trust him more than me?"

"The mind web isn't a curse," interjected Orion calmly. "And I told you that I didn't cast it on you due to lack of trust. Moreover, I applied a mind web on Severus ages ago, and he never, not even once, asked me to remove it." He pierced his father with his eyes, and said sharply, "That's a true proof of loyalty and commitment. So never tell me that Severus can't be trusted, Dad. He has helped me much, and he even assisted me in placing your memories back into your mind. Actually, you owe him for that."

He swiftly turned to Remus, and said quietly, "You know I need to cast it on you as well."

"I was expecting it," said Remus, with a heavy sigh. He intently bore his amber eyes into Orion's, and added, "Do it if it gives you peace of mind, cub. But I reiterate that I wouldn't betray my friends."

"I know," said Orion, shooting him a true, warm smile. Then, he immediately aimed his wand at the werewolf, and hissed again, "_Clausus mentisss!_"

Once done, he left Remus to deal with a fuming Sirius, and he approached Grindelwald. The old German wizard had been strangely quiet during all the time, merely observing the proceedings with his intense, hazel gaze.

"Gellert, may I have a word?"

Grindelwald quirked an eyebrow, and followed Orion as he was pulled into a secluded corner of the parlor.

"My father is dark, whether he likes to admit it or not," said Orion quietly, piercing his mentor with his eyes. "While you teach him Occlumency, I want you to take the opportunity to train him in dark-curse casting. He knows plenty dark curses already, but hasn't used them in a long while. So I ask you to train him to spur his dark magic. I want you to make him realize that he's truly a dark wizard, and I want you to impress on him the importance of the Vindico cause."

"Ja, it would be wise to do so. Leave it to me, mein junge," said Grindelwald, crookedly smirking at him with an eager gleam in his hawk-like eyes.

Orion pointedly stared at him. "Don't hurt him in your zealousness, Gellert."

"I won't modify my training techniques," interjected Grindelwald loftily, his smirk widening.

"Fine," grumbled Orion, "but, at least, don't harm him permanently."

Grindelwald toothily grinned at him. "That, I can do."

Orion chuckled, and muttered fondly under his breath, "Sadistic old bastard."

"Indeed I am," said Grindelwald, flashing him with a devious smirk. He brushed off imaginary lint from his impeccable, rich robes, and said casually, "You've been tough with your father, mein junge."

"Did you expect anything else from me?" interjected Orion, arching an eyebrow. "My father needs to realize that I have changed much in these four years. I am not the naïve, little boy he once knew, Gellert. And he needs to accept it, as well as all that I intend to do."

"Ja, he does," said Grindelwald impassively. He pierced him with his eyes, and added conversationally, "I expect that you'll still come here during the weekends, after your Durmstrang classes. I have one thing or two left to teach you, yet. And I deem that the time has come for me to reveal some information which will be useful to you, mein junge."

Orion eyed him with curiosity, but didn't press the matter. "Very well. I wasn't planning on ending my training anyway. So count on it – I'll be here every weekend."

"Gut," said Grindelwald, shooting him a satisfied smirk, before he calmly strode back to the other two wizards left.

Orion followed him and instantly noticed that his father and Remus fell silent the moment he was with them.

Suddenly, Sirius took a step to be in front of him. The wizard pulled something from his finger and took Orion's hand, opening it and slapping something on Orion's palm.

"I don't know why you left it on my finger, pup."

Orion frowned at the Black heirloom in his hand - the ring of the Head of Black House. He glanced up at his father, and said quietly while he offered it back, "It's yours, not mine-"

"I don't want it – never did," interrupted Sirius adamantly, piercing him with gray eyes. "This summer you're turning seventeen, you'll be of age - an adult. Thus, you can legally become the Head of Black House." He lopsidedly grinned at him, though it was wan. "Besides, I tried to modify the wards back when we were in Black Manor, without you noticing. But I couldn't. The wards didn't accept me any longer as the Head of Black House."

"You should take it, cub," said Remus warmly, side-glancing at Sirius with proud satisfaction.

Orion could tell that it had been Remus' idea; a way for Sirius to accept the changes around him, making the wizard take a small step which recognized that his son had become mature, independent and powerful enough to bear the ring. Though it was a small gesture, it was significant.

He nodded and swiftly put it on, but something else had raised an alarm in his mind. "The wards in Black Manor didn't recognize you any more, father?"

"Nah, they didn't," said Sirius dismissively, utterly unconcerned.

Orion deeply frowned. "I wonder what it means."

Sirius let out a bark of rambunctious laughter, patting Orion on the back. "It means that I'm finally free from the responsibilities of managing the Black vaults, properties, and family matters like who gets repudiated from the line." He joyfully grinned. "I wanted to disown Bellatrix from her Black name and inheritance – never got the chance. But you can do that in a few months, when you turn seventeen, pup!"

"Huh? Yeah," muttered Orion, not paying much attention to what his father was saying.

Sirius gripped his shoulders, frowning at him. "You want to be the Head of House, don't you? You must have been managing everything while I was gone, so it wouldn't be much of a change for you. But if you don't want to-"

"No, I do," interrupted Orion, gazing up at him, his frown still present. "But the wards didn't acknowledge you, Dad."

"Pfft, so what?" said Sirius unfazed. "Granted, it will be a pain in the arse that I can't modify the wards." He cheekily grinned. "You'll have to trot around all Black properties to make their wards accept me. I don't want to be flung out by them. But there's time for that. Don't worry, pup."

"I think Orion is worried about the fact itself," interjected Remus, his amber gaze shifting from Sirius to Orion. "It shouldn't surprise you, cub. Sirius died and the magic of the wards detected it. But I don't think the wards were casted to be prepared for a supposedly impossible eventuality in which a Head of House would be brought back to life."

"Yes, I hope that's all it means," said Orion quietly, before he shook his head and shot them a smile. "Well, I have to get going. I have classes tomorrow morning and I'm looking forward to getting some sleep."

Remus nodded, but abruptly, Sirius pulled Orion towards him, tightly hugging him as he said vehemently, "You can trust me, pup. You know that I would rather die than betray my friends, and that includes my son, obviously. And do take care of yourself." He pulled away and ruffled Orion's hair, before a pinched expression spread over his face. "And don't you dare leave me alone with the mass-murdering wacko for too long."

"I won't," said Orion with a chuckle. "I'll come here every night, for a while, as promised."

He turned to Remus, and said warmly, "We'll see each other soon. And I'll contact you if anything happens."

The werewolf nodded, before he grabbed Orion's arm and pulled him away from prying ears. Grindelwald must have understood they needed privacy, since the old wizard instantly started to egg on Sirius with some snide comment.

"I'm planning on inviting Sirius to stay at Lycaon for a while," whispered Remus. "I think it will do him good to be out of the Manor for a few days, instead of always being cooped up in here. But I'll leave it to you to decide when he should come."

"I see. Thanks for that," said Orion quietly.

It was evident to him that Remus realized that Sirius couldn't be left to make his own decisions - for now. After all, even if his father was suddenly behaving in a carefree manner, Sirius had to be badly shaken after all that had happened and after everything he had been told.

Orion nodded, and shot him a smile. "I'll see how he does, and if everything is well I'll take him to Lycaon in a month."

"Oi! What are you two whispering and scheming?" said Sirius with a friendly expression on his face, as he quickly approached them while leaving Grindelwald behind, and looking quite relieved and glad to have done so.

"Nothing important, Dad," said Orion dismissively, while he wandlessly accioed his schoolbag from wherever he had left it.

The instant it came shooting into his hand, he nodded in farewell to everyone, and prepared himself to apparate away. That was until his father piped in a question with sharp suspiciousness.

"You are going to Hogwarts, right?" said Sirius sternly, piercing him with his grey eyes. "You aren't going to see Voldemort, are you, pup?"

Orion arched an eyebrow, and replied nonchalantly, "I'm not going to see him now. But I will next weekend. I have much to discuss with him." He narrowed his eyes at the belligerent expression on his father's face, and added crisply, "Get used to it, father. He's my spouse and I'll be around him. Furthermore, we've planned for him to move into Black Manor during the summer-"

"WHAT?!" roared Sirius. "Absolutely not-"

Orion groaned, before he said sharply and impatiently, "We are a married couple, even if I sometimes forget it! And it's proper and expected of us to live together and I'm looking forward to it."

"Yes, you are married," interjected Sirius with a grimace, as if being forced to swallow a sour lemon. "Though don't think for a minute that you've heard the last of what I have to say on that subject." Then his expression turned thunderous, and he snapped, "But another matter entirely is for you to live with that deranged psychopath… alone, in a Manor? Unprotected if he decides to do Merlin knows what to you! What – sharing a bed with him as well?! I think not, young man-"

"Merlin's great balls of fire, I'm almost seventeen!" spat Orion, at the end of his rope. "And it should be plainly obvious to you, by now, that I have repeatedly shared his bed." He eyed him fuming, decided to get his point through without embellishing matters, and snapped pointedly, "He's fucked me senseless, countless of times, and I bloody well enjoy it! So get it through your head!"

And with that, he instantly apparated away, quite glad to leave Remus to deal with his father's stubbornness and delusions of his son's long lost innocence.

* * *

The following week passed quickly, but not breezily. No one at Hogwarts knew that anything significant had happened, and his Dementor-caused black burns passed unnoticed under the glamours. Moreover, Ron kept shooting at him angrily hateful and unforgiving glances, Hermione kept pestering him to resolve his differences with Ron, Lavender kept whispering poignantly about him to her girlfriends and haughtily flipping her blond hair at him, and –thankfully- Luna dosed his days with a sense of peaceful, quiet companionship.

Nevertheless, it was a hard week for Orion. For starters, he slowly but increasingly felt tired, without any apparent reason for it. And he realized, at once, that the potion he was daily imbuing had started to have its secondary effects on him. He had felt exhausted during his confrontation with Cadmus, so it was evident that the potion was taking its toll on him now that he felt tired without straining himself for any purpose.

Furthermore, his greatest problem was that the recollections of past reincarnations assaulted him constantly, without respecting where he was, what he was doing, or what time of the day it was. He had them in his sleep, when having breakfast, when going to the bathroom, when talking with classmates, and when answering his teachers during class. And he had already garnered peculiar glances when he had unwittingly gasped and lost hold of a vial during a Potion lesson, when he had been assaulted by a particularly painfully emotional experience of one of his past selves.

Even though he had little time to contemplate the whys and wherefores of what was happening to him, Orion finally ended up looking for answers, and a solution, in every book he could take a hold on. He had even researched the matter in Sylvester Slytherin's book of 'Parsel Rituals for the Soul', and in Cadmus' original journal – but there was nothing. Not even a clue that clarified what the Dementor had done to him and how it could be reversed.

In the end, he decided to follow his all-purpose concept of strategic problem-solving, which boiled down to 'Get your answers, by manipulation or coercion, from someone'. And he knew just who, but couldn't do it until the weekend. Therefore, he was left to endure flashes of memories which left him badly shaken most of times.

Moreover, the Black Heir ring hadn't stopped burning a single day, and Orion was starting to lose his practiced coolness.

Then it was finally Friday, and it couldn't have arrived any slower in his opinion. But what mattered was that he could at last leave the school by saying that he didn't want to wait till morning to floo to Durmstrang, thus not raising suspicions, since he was truly going to Potter Manor first.

So, quite happy to be out of her sight, Orion slammed closed the door of Professor Trelawney's office, after enduring one of his accustomed Friday-evening detentions with her. These had been going on ever since Dumbledore had inflicted the punishment on him, because he had casted a dark curse on Ron after the boy had eaten the Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda Vane had spiked with a love potion. Though, her intended target had been him and not Ron.

Thankfully, as nutty and bizarre as Trelawney was, nothing much happened during his detentions. Oh, she particularly liked to reveal to him -with a relish that Orion could only describe as viciously excited- that her Inner Eye saw his imminent death, or some such torturous and apocalyptic ending for him. But as long as she didn't go into trance-like Seer-mode, he could put up with it with impassive equanimity – and she hadn't. Nevertheless, knowing that the witch had truly told a valid and real prophecy, he always felt uneasy around her; since the last thing he wanted was for the woman to spout any other prophecy which would surely constitute a pain in the arse for him.

Therefore, making his escape, Orion swiftly reached his dorm in Gryffindor Tower, seeing it deserted since everyone had gone down for supper. And after getting his things, he quickly made his way to Dumbledore's office. As usual nowadays, it was empty, and he didn't waste any breath before flooing to Black Manor – his triangulation point.

Orion went into his bedroom and started packing some robes and other clothes into his bag, before he apparated to Potter Manor. He was feeling quite eager to see how his father was doing. As he had promised, he had gone to the Chamber of Secrets and apparated to Potter Manor, every night during the week, to see how his father was faring.

He had discovered that Grindelwald couldn't find any other enjoyment in his solitary days than to torment his father. The first night, he had apparated into Potter Manor just to find a tiny, fluffy, black kitten hissing and spitting furiously, trying to claw Grindelwald to pieces, while the old wizard crowed with sadistically amused chortles. Orion had realized that the kitten was no other than his father – whom Grindelwald had magically forced into an animal transformation. From henceforth, every evening in which he dropped by, Orion found his father in varying states and shapes, all for Grindelwald's private entertainment.

In the end, Orion had wisely decided not to get involved, since he had witnessed his father retaliating with hexes worthy of the nastiest prankster, an more often than not, with vicious curses as well. Though Grindelwald took it with supreme impassiveness, being highly amused by all of it, and not remotely concerned about Sirius doing any harm to him, since how could a mere wizard do anything to him – a Dark Lord.

Nevertheless, as much as Sirius angrily complained to him about what Grindelwald was inflicting on him, Orion was pleased to know that his mentor had already started teaching Sirius Occlumency, as well as forcing his father to practice dark curses. Therefore, he was satisfied about the way things were going with his father. Though, the rocky subject of his marriage to the Dark Lord hadn't been touched again, so far.

Orion flung his packed schoolbag on his back, and he was about to apparate to Potter Manor when a house-elf suddenly popped before him.

"Strange young wizard asking to see you, Master," said the house-elf, looking highly miffed while his large ears bobbed energetically. "Wizard waiting outside Manor, sir. Blipsy told wizard to go away! Bad wizard not obey! Weird wizard is NOT recognized by wards, Master, so Blipsy told wizard to leave-"

"Alright, alright," interrupted Orion soothingly. "You did well by not allowing him entrance. But tell me, did the wizard give you his name?"

"Yes, Master," said Blipsy, beaming at the praise and looking proud of himself. "Bad wizard said name was Njord."

Orion stared at the small creature, stunned. "Njord? And you said he was young – that's Loki. Bring him to me, please."

The house-elf instantly popped away and Orion didn't have to wait more than a second before Blipsy summarily returned, accompanied by a young wizard. And Orion merely gazed at him, his eyes slightly widening.

"So this is your bedroom," said Loki with a quiet, distant voice, gazing around. "Exactly how I imagined it – you're loaded, Black. But such things doesn't matter to you, do they it? Even if you could lead a comfortable and carefree life."

Orion stood rooted in place, staring at him with wide eyes, having instantly felt and detected the changes in the young wizard. Loki was exuding an eerie aura, his eyes all-black, his movements fluid, his long black cloak covering every inch of his skin… And it made the boy look like a spectre – just like Guild Necromancers looked like.

"How – how long has it been for you, Njord?" said Orion hoarsely, before he swallowed to ease his suddenly dry throat.

Loki's glowing all-black gaze flickered back to him, and he smirked. "Since I last saw you, Black? Two months, and for you just a week." His smirk widened, and he said calmly, "You know what's happened, don't you?"

"Yes," said Orion quietly. "But I want to see it – show me."

There was a hint of pride in the boy's eyes, but other than that, Loki's face was expressionless while he spread open his left palm.

Orion's gaze instantly zeroed in on the black symbol etched on the pale skin: a Necromancer's mark.

"You passed the trials. You're a full-fledged Necromancer," said Orion stone-faced, as he felt a slight pang of – something. "And you're not going back to Durmstrang."

"I'm not," said Loki, in a distant voice that sounded as if it came from the furthest recesses of some dark corner. "School no longer holds any interest for me – I don't need it. The Guild is my home now."

Orion jerkily nodded, as he experienced a strange feeling of lost and a frisson of worry. Loki wouldn't be in Durmstrang, it was likely that he would never see the boy again, and everything was changing too fast; making him feel as if he were speeding towards a rushed, ominous ending. He hadn't expected that Loki would become a Necromancer so soon, and it changed everything – his plans regarding the boy.

"I see," he said quietly. "Congratulations. It's what you've always wanted."

"It is," said Loki unemotionally, his voice flat. "But I wasn't sent here to chit-chat, Black." He pulled his pale face close to Orion's, and whispered, "You told me half-truths. I should have suspected it." He suddenly smirked, piercing him with his glowing, all-black gaze. "But I know all of it, now. Your suspicions were right: we know what you are, what you're trying to become – the Vindico Atrum. We've known for a very long while, since such a unique spirit as Morgana's wouldn't have remained undetected by Us. Her spirit is, after all, anchored to the mortal plane. And she was quite willing to tell us about you, during the past three years. Yes, that's how long we've known-"

"We?" interrupted Orion sharply, eyeing him closely. "You didn't know anything, Njord."

"Ah, you must forgive me," said Loki detachedly, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. "It's difficult to separate myself from the Guild-mind. But I'll get the hang of it soon."

"Guild-mind?" interjected Orion, frowning at him. "Is that what the Necromancers have, when you all talk into your minds without needing to be close to each other and without using Legilimency? You form a kind of collective mind?"

"We do, and the mind link finishes forming after passing the trials," replied Loki tonelessly. "You should have suspected it. Didn't we tell you that we share all our knowledge with a Necromancer who passes our trials?" He tapped his forehead. "It's all here: their thoughts, what they want to share with me, the knowledge they've obtained through decades and centuries of research, incursions into the planes, and summonings. All Guild-knowledge is accessible to me like an open book, since my mind is linked to theirs."

A stretch of silence spread between them, as Orion let all of it sink in while his mind sped with the implications and consequences for him, particularly regarding the part about Morgana.

"Right. Good for you - I guess," muttered Orion at last, before he frowned and pierced the Necromancer with his eyes. "So the Guild sent you here to tell me that they have known about Morgana, and about me being a Vindico candidate, all along. Fine, I got the message. But tell me, is the Guild going to do anything about it? Don't they want-"

"We won't interfere," interrupted Loki in a faraway voice, though not raspy due to disuse, yet. "As long as our existence remains a secret, we don't have any objections to what you want to do. Also, I'm meant to tell you that Morgana was the first one to have suggested that you should train under The Argonaut. She knew there was a chance that you would end up deciding to become a full-fledged Necromancer. And we told her about the magical contract you signed with us. But we wanted to tell you about her involvement since we owe no loyalty to her, but we do to you, since you've agreed to undergo our training."

"I see. Thanks," grumbled Orion, his expression darkening. "I don't like being manipulated, Njord, and it seems that Morgana never stops trying. Therefore, I'm not sure that I want to train under Virgil-"

"We advise you to do so," interjected Loki tonelessly. "Not because the Spirit suggested it, but because we also think it's best for you – given your ambitions. Remember our last conversation? With me personally, I mean. What I told you was the truth. There's no one better to train you than The Argonaut. You'll learn much with him, and all of it will be useful to you in the future, particularly since one of your greatest tasks will be to influence the Balance between the Sources. Not only blood-issues come into play. Souls and the spiritual plane, as well as the other realms, also depend on the Sources, and you'll have to learn about that."

Orion sighed and fiercely rubbed his forehead. "Fine. Then I won't change my plans regarding my Necromantic training."

"We're glad to know," said Loki detachedly.

Orion paused, before he said quietly, "This is the last time I'll see you, isn't it?"

"Possibly," said Loki, piercing him with his all-black gaze, in which Orion detected a brief flash of the old Loki. "You won't be in the Guild when you undergo your training with The Argonaut. But you can go to the Guild… if you ever want to see me again."

"I will, then," said Orion nonchalantly.

Suddenly, Loki smirked at him. "So no hard feelings between us, Black? Good. I'm not interested in leaving any enemies behind in the outer world."

"We were never enemies, Njord," interjected Orion conversationally. "Simply not friends." He smirked back at him, and added, "And I'm also not interested in having enemies in the Guild."

Loki nodded, his face expressionless and distant once more, and he said detachedly, "One more thing before I leave. I wasn't only sent to tell you about Morgana. You should know about something much more important. The Dementors know that you killed the High One. They instantly felt the lack of the High One's presence in the mortal plane as well as in the spiritual plane. And it didn't take them long to suspect you, since the High One was known to target Blacks in particular. And you're the only Black, at present, with Necromantic abilities. Furthermore, since they also felt that your father's soul was back in the mortal plane, they quickly deduced that you were the one who killed the High One in order to free your father's soul. But that's not all. You are the Dark Lord's spouse, which they knew already. Thus, in retribution to what you have done, they severed their allegiance with the Dark Lord - and attacked him."

"What?" choked out Orion, staring at him with wide eyes.

"What you heard, Black," said Loki tonelessly. "The Dementors are no longer the Dark Lord's allies, and they attacked him."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, tell me more!" snapped Orion, highly alarmed and troubled. "What happened? Voldemort is fine, isn't he? He used the Patronus Charm, right? And-"

"Yes, he did," interrupted Loki impassively. "Though, it's surprising, given that the Dark Lord often used our services to deal with Dementors, since he couldn't produce a Patronus Charm powerful enough and, obviously, since he couldn't communicate with the creatures in order to negotiate. But now it seems that the Dark Lord is able of casting a powerful Patronus. As far as we know, no harm came to him, but that is to be expected since Dementors have never hungered for the Dark Lord's fragmented soul."

Orion intently gazed at him, and finally muttered, "So the Guild knows about that too."

"We've always known," said Loki detachedly. "But we've never cared about what the Dark Lord decided to do with his soul." He shrugged indifferently. "Every being should be wise enough to care about their precious souls, and if someone doesn't, it's their problem. The Guild doesn't exist to watch over the souls in the mortal plane."

"Of course," said Orion dryly, before he uneasily carded his fingers through his hair. "Alright. Is there anything more you're supposed to tell me?"

"Nothing," replied Loki tonelessly. "Please contact us when you're ready to undergo the training. Now, I'll take my leave."

Orion hesitantly paused, before he nodded and snapped his fingers. "Blipsy!"

The house-elf instantly appeared, and he said quietly, "Please take my guest outside the Manor, so that he can apparate."

Loki shot him a brief, strange glance, which Orion couldn't quite decipher, before he grasped the house-elf's shoulder and disappeared with a 'pop'.

Finally, Orion peeled his gaze away from the spot the Necromancer had vacated, and he heavily sighed while tiredly rubbing his forehead. And knowing that it had to be done, he swiftly took out, from underneath his robes, the necklace with the pendant and the ring. He immediately whipped out his wand, folded his fingers around the Black Heir ring, and quickly tapped it with his wand's tip.

The portkey was instantly activated, and he disappeared from his bedroom pulled in a swirling tightening of space and mesh of colors.

* * *

With his Occlumency barriers fully raised, Orion landed where he had not expected: in Voldemort's bedroom, instead of the wizard's study or the summoning chamber. When his gaze found the wizard in the dimly lit and elegant bedroom, he understood why. Voldemort laid under the bed covers, his handsome face pale and slightly gaunt, while seeming to be asleep.

But, suddenly, crimson eyes opened and narrowed at him, and Orion could see the fury in them.

"So you finally deigned to answer my summon," said Voldemort in a silky, pleasant voice, which didn't fool Orion for a second - even his invisible scar had begun to twitch painfully.

Without pausing, Orion approached the bed, while the wizard propped himself into a seating position against the headboard with the use of some pillows, and he said quietly, "Are you okay, Tom?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" said Voldemort in calm voice, arching an eyebrow with mildness. "You see me here, resting in my bed-"

"I know what happened," interrupted Orion, feeling the tension and purposely disregarding it, as he nonchalantly sat down on the bed next to the wizard.

"Do you, my little serpent?" said Voldemort placidly. "And how is that, if I may ask, since I haven't told you?"

"Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you, Tom," interjected Orion, eyeing him with caution. "You must have piece it all together – the reason why the Dementors attacked you."

But Voldemort didn't say a word, remaining silently piercing him with his crimson gaze, like a lazy snake which could, however, strike at any given time, while Orion felt the pain in his scar spiking.

He rubbed his forehead, deeply sighed, and said at last, "I didn't know that the Dementors would take it on you, Tom. If I had, I would have told you before doing it." He paused, yet his spouse said nothing, so he continued, "Fine, I'll say it if that's what you're waiting for." He raised his chin, and said calmly, "I killed their leader and resurrected my father."

"_Yet_," hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes now narrowing again with blazing fury, "_you promised that you wouldn't attempt it before telling me, and before we planned it together. Yet, you promised to have no plans to become a full-fledged Necromancer. Yet, you-"_

"_Yet, nothing,"_ interrupted Orion in a sharp hiss. _"Yes, I promised to tell you before doing it, but I knew you would only try to dissuade me. But see – you were wrong! Nothing happened to me and I succeeded! And I have said nothing about becoming a full-fledged Necromancer-"_

Abruptly, Voldemort swiftly captured Orion's chin in a painfully tight grip, and demanded in a deadly tone of voice, "_So you don't intend to become a Necromancer?" _

"_No," _said Orion smoothly, evenly staring back at him.

"_Don't lie to me,"_ hissed Voldemort enraged, sinking his fingers into Orion's cheek as his grip tightened even further. "_The Guild must have helped you - it's evident. And I've dealt with them before. They don't give without demanding anything in return!"_

Orion gritted his teeth, feeling the pain in his scar increase with a stabbing force, and ripped Voldemort's clutching fingers from his chin. _"I didn't come here to discuss the Guild or my dealings with them! I came to see how you are-" _

"_I don't care what your purpose was when you decided to finally answer my summon," _hissed Voldemort irately, his crimson eyes darkly sparkling with fury._ "You lied to me, repeatedly. You constantly talk about, and demand, trust but you stamped over the one I had in you."_

Then, he swiftly flung the bed covers from him and left the bed, flicking his wrist and wandlessly accioing a rich, black robe which came shooting from the wizard's large, ornate armoire. Voldemort was dressed in an instant, covering the body on which Orion's gaze had automatically lingered with unconscious desire.

"_I don't care what deal you've made with the Guild,"_ hissed Voldemort in a dangerously quiet voice, as he stalked towards Orion. _"You are not becoming a full-fledged Necromancer. And I expect you to tell them this, immediately."_

Orion jumped to his feet, and said angrily, _"I won't. And I can't, either. I signed a magical contract with them-"_

"_Then I'll break it!"_ hissed Voldemort, swiftly reaching him and towering over his form.

"_I don't want you to,"_ snapped Orion heatedly, his jaw clenching. _"It's my choice to become a full-fledged Necromancer and it has nothing to do with you, Tom!"_

Instantly, Voldemort painfully grasped Orion's face, and spat furiously, _"You are my spouse – anything you do has to do with me! And I won't allow you to become one of those inhuman and detached beings-"_

Orion let out a crisp, mirthless chuckle, and without letting show his bitterness, he bit out,_ "Detached? Isn't that exactly how you prefer I was? Colder, more ruthless, unemotional-"_

"_What are you talking about?" _hissed Voldemort sharply, narrowing his crimson eyes at him._ "I never said that-"_

"_But you think it,__"_ interrupted Orion stone-faced. Suddenly, he widely smirked, and added nonchalantly, _"But don't believe that I want to become a Necromancer because of you or how you wish I could be. I'm doing it for myself!" _

"_For what purpose?"_ demanded Voldemort, before he tightened his grasp on Orion, and hissed irately, _"It doesn't matter. You won't do it, and that's my final word-"_

"_For power!"_ spat Orion incensed, glaring at him. _"You, of all people, should understand that."_

"_You don't need power,"_ hissed Voldemort, looking more enraged each passing second. _"You are my spouse and that should suffice you, my little serpent."_

"_Of course it doesn'__t suffice,"_ said Orion through gritted teeth. _"Don't consider me to be merely your spouse, Tom! I'm much more, and you know what my goals are-"_

"_And by being my spouse you can accomplish them,"_ interrupted Voldemort sharply. _"You want to lead the Dark with me, you want to help me plot victories, scheme battle plans and missions, and then help me reshape the wizarding world according to my - our views."_

"_Me helping you, that's all you say,"_ snapped Orion crisply. _"What if it was the other way around, Tom? What if I was in a position of power over yours, and it was you assisting me?"_

Voldemort let out a sharp chuckle, which resounded throughout the bedroom. _"What are you talking about, my little serpent? I am the DARK LORD – there's no position over mine!" _Abruptly, he narrowed his crimson eyes at Orion, and hissed in a dangerous tone of voice,_ "Unless you're planning on becoming the Dark Lord, and you're stupidly assuming that you're powerful enough to kill me. Is that it, my little serpent?" _

"_Of course it's not,"_ said Orion bristling. _"I don't want to rid you of your position – I've told you that repeatedly. But other things could place me in a position over that of a Dark Lord's-"_

"_There's no such thing__, and there's only room for one Dark Lord," _interrupted Voldemort, his eyes narrowing to slits. "_The Dark cannot have two separate leaders. And frankly, my little serpent, if that's what you're planning, forget the idea – you don't have what it takes. You think being powerful is the only decisive requirement in a Dark Lord, but it's not. And if this is why you want to become a full-fledged Necromancer, then you're a fool since turning into one will not help you become a Dark Lord."_

"_I don't have what it takes?"_ hissed Orion calmly, his expression pleasant. _"Well, you're free to have your own opinions, Tom. I see that you're well, so I'll leave. I'll come back on other occasion. I must visit my father now."_

Abruptly, in the bat of an eyelash, Voldemort flicked his wrist, and Orion suddenly felt something pressing all around him.

"_You're not leaving,"_ hissed Voldemort impassively, his crimson eyes darkly glowing. _"And I wouldn't recommend that you try to apparate or use the portkey. I've tightened the wards and they'll hurt you greatly if you try."_ He smirked at him, and it was vicious and dangerous. _"As for your father – I'll be glad to have him back in Death Eater ranks."_

"_Don't you even think about it! You won't touch my father and he won't be returning to you,"_ snapped Orion angrily, surreptitiously taking hold of his wand. _"And let me out – I have nothing more to discuss with you, at present."_

"_But we're not done with our discussion, my little serpent,"_ hissed Voldemort conversationally. _"And don't you need the memory I modified? You shouldn't make Dumbledore wait for it for too long. It would only make the old goat suspect you even more."_

"_Fine," _grunted Orion. _"Give it to me."_

"_I will in a minute,"_ interjected Voldemort, caressing Orion's cheek with mock tenderness while he pierced him with his eyes. _"Though, perhaps, you've given Dumbledore some reason to suddenly trust you. Maybe you've done something against me and in his benefit."_

Orion frowned at him. _"What are you talking about?"_

"_Do you think,"_ hissed Voldemort, his voice deadly cold as his caresses turned sharp while he raked his nails along Orion's cheek, slightly breaking the skin, _"that I wouldn't notice when one of my Death Eaters suddenly disappears?"_

"_Nymphadora Tonks,"_ said Orion loftily, refraining from wincing while the wizard kept 'caressing' him.

"_Yessss. And only you could have the presumption to act without my permission,"_ hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes flashing with anger. _"I had her just where I wanted her; posing as Barty, as you appear to already know, and being the means by which I filled the old coot with the lies I fed her. Where is she?"_

"_Safe, from you and Dumbledore,"_ replied Orion nonchalantly, though he eyed him closely, ready to defend himself if needed.

"_I want her back."_

"_You can have her,"_ said Orion calmly, _"if she doesn't turn to the Dark and I don't kill her first for it."_

Voldemort arched an eyebrow. _"Is that your plan for her, to kill her? No, you'll bring her to me, since I know she won't turn to our side and I can still use her for a while."_

"_Alright,"_ said Orion indifferently. _"I'll give her one or two more months. And then, if I see she won't support us, I'll give her to you. Satisfied?"_

"_Slightly. Lately, your actions have cost me much – the witch, my alliance with the Dementors-"_

"_You don't need them, Tom,"_ said Orion vehemently. _"They only served to Kiss people, and you made them stop when I asked it of you."_

"_Yesss, I did,"_ hissed Voldemort, his tone of voice deadly cold and his crimson eyes containing such fury that it made Orion unwittingly take a step back in caution. _"I've done many things for you, my little serpent. And I think that I've been too benevolent with you. It's my own fault, I admit, but it's clear to me now that I've granted you too much freedom - that I have yielded too much without demanding explanations or without making you concede as well. And I should have expected that you would manipulate me by taking more than I offered."_

Orion shook his head, and said adamantly, _"I don't know what you mean. I'm sorry that the Dementors attacked you, but you're alright. And I believe it's a good thing that the Dementors aren't supporting us any longer. Everyone despises them, and by using them we would have only garnered unnecessary hatred towards us and the Dark's methods. I'm not saying that we have to play fair in the war, but Dementors were ultimately useless, and dangerous if they decided to turn against us. And that could have happened; they are driven by instincts and their hunger, and in a battle field with so many wizards' souls, they could have attacked frenziedly, without making distinction between light and dark wizards-"_

"_Hush," _hissed Voldemort quietly, as he wrapped his fingers around Orion's neck, yet it wasn't tight enough to feel uncomfortable, but the implicit threat was there. _"I wasn't alluding to the alliance you have cost me, but to your constant lies and the secrets and plans you obviously keep from me. You've turned our union into a mockery of what it should be, and my patience with you has finally ended."_

"_That's not true,"_ interjected Orion sharply. _"You keep secrets from me as well, and I take our marital magical bond seriously-"_

"_You don't," _hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes flashing with deviousness and something else Orion couldn't decipher. _"But I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself to me."_

Orion narrowed his eyes at him. _"What do you want?"_

"_Simple,"_ replied Voldemort, smirking at him. _"You wanted the freedom to have lovers, and we finally agreed that you could have others in bed if I participated. Therefore, let's indulge in the experience now."_

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline, flabbergasted, perplexed, and then alarmed. _"How is that going to prove anything to you? Us having sex with a third person has nothing to do with what we've been discussing!"_

"_It would show me,"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, _"that you're willing to yield on this matter – by following the solution I proposed to your sudden urge to have more sexual experiences."_

Orion eyed him as if fearing that the wizard had lost his senses. But no, Voldemort appeared to be very serious about the matter. And he couldn't believe that the wizard wanted to have a bloody threesome, now of all times, when they had been having an important argument! Nevertheless, he rather deal with a lustful Voldemort than a furious one, and if it served to satisfy the wizard and temporarily make him forget about the reasons for his anger, he was up to it. Not to mention, that he was curious to give it a try.

"_Alright,"_ said Orion nonchalantly, quirking an eyebrow. _"But I get to choose whom, as previously agreed."_

"_Then do."_

Orion frowned at him, realizing that the wizard did actually want to go forth with it, but then he didn't question it anymore, and pondered about whom to choose. There was no way he could say 'Draco', though that was whom he wanted. Not that he would be willing to share him with Voldemort - Merlin knew what the wizard would do to Draco. So no, for this first time it had to be someone Voldemort wouldn't easily want to hurt and someone who could defend himself… and someone close by, for he wasn't going to apparate anywhere in search of their 'third party'. He inwardly grimaced. That meant a Death Eater, and none of them were of his taste… Though… Out of the youngest, he knew Rabastan the best, since that wizard and Rodolphus had taught him, a long time ago, dark curses during a whole summer month. And Rabastan was also quite handsome, even more than his older brother… And there was another reason that popped into his mind against his will: Rabastan hadn't been there when Regulus had been raped…

He cleared his mind from _that_ thought, and rubbed his forehead, fleetingly wondering if he wasn't making a huge mistake. All of this was out of the blue, and Voldemort was being too darned impassive about the whole matter. But Orion gazed at the wizard, and Voldemort was impatiently staring at him, looking more angrily dissatisfied by the second. And that sealed the deal. After all, he had vouched on being cold to Voldemort, never remotely tender and never showing any frisson of emotional love. And this was a way to do it - if he enjoyed every second of it and Voldemort realized it.

Finally, Orion cleared his throat, and said nonchalantly, _"Rabastan."_

Voldemort eyed him strangely, before he smirked. _"That was who I chose."_

"_Yes,"_ hissed Orion impassively. _"It seems you were right. So summon him."_

After a brief stretch of silence, Voldemort side-glanced at him while approaching the closet. _"You should start undressing. He'll be here any minute."_

Right, Voldemort had devised a way to summon his Death Eater without the need of using the Dark Mark of one of them… Merlin, this was really going to happen… Orion inwardly shook his head, angrily. He was behaving like an immature child. Sex was sex and he was going to enjoy it – he had no doubt about that.

"_This better serve to prove whatever it is you want me to prove,"_ muttered Orion as he approached the bed, still not doing anything to divest himself of his clothes.

"_I told you what you would be proving,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, without turning around to face him. Then, he snidely sneered, _"If you don't feel ready, my little serpent, I won't force you-"_

"_I'm ready,"_ snapped Orion crisply, instantly hating that sneering tone of voice – Voldemort didn't use it on him frequently.

Actually, almost never… He frowned while gazing at Voldemort's back, who had begun to disrobe. Something wasn't right…

Suddenly, there was a polite knock on the door, and his gaze instantly fixed on it. Voldemort lazily flicked his wrist, the door swiftly opened, and Rabastan immediately bowed his head without entering the bedroom.

"My Lord," said the wizard in his low, rumbling voice. "How may I serve you?"

"Come in, Rabastan," said Voldemort pleasantly.

Rabastan raised his head, and his chestnut eyes flickered from Voldemort to Orion and back, with cautiousness and a hint of confusion. Meanwhile, Orion hadn't peeled his gaze from the wizard, and was now seated on the bed purposely appearing relaxed and unfazed. Though, when he had sat on the bed, his first reaction was to pull his legs against his chest, wrapped by his arms. Of course, that wouldn't do, so he had thought on sprawling himself above the bed covers – bad choice as well, since he didn't want to appear intentionally seductive or lewd. So he had finally simply sat on the bloody bed, as nonchalantly as he could.

Before he knew it, Voldemort was standing besides the bed, right next to him, wearing only a pair of black trousers.

"My spouse is breathtakingly beautiful, isn't he?" said Voldemort silkily, while he carded his elegant fingers through Orion's hair, his crimson gaze fixed on Rabastan.

Rabastan's eyes slightly widened with alarm. "Er..."

And Orion fleetingly felt for the wizard, since the younger Lestrange surely thought that no answer was safe.

"Isn't he, Rabastan?" said Voldemort a bit more forcefully, narrowing his eyes at the wizard.

"Yes, My Lord," replied Rabastan hesitantly.

Voldemort chuckled, not halting his caresses on Orion's hair. "There's nothing to fear, my friend. I only want you to reply with honesty." He gently took hold of Orion's chin, to direct Orion's face towards the wizard. "Look at him, and answer me again, now with meaning."

Rabastan's chestnut eyes flickered to gaze at Orion's face, and he said more firmly, "Yes, he's beautiful, My Lord."

"You don't sound too sure," said Voldelmort calmly, still gently forcing Orion to directly expose his face to the other wizard.

Again, Rabastan's gaze focused on him, but Orion could perceive the unease and cautious trepidation of the wizard, and he snapped his face away from Voldemort's clutch, and hissed sharply, _"Stop it. He cannot answer that without fearing that you'll get mad. You're only making him nervous. Like this, we won't get anywhere."_

"_Ah, so you've suddenly become an expert in these matters," _hissed Voldemort pleasantly._ "Very well. Tell him what we want – seduce him."_

Orion froze, his gaze fixed with Voldemort's crimson one, before he clenched his jaw and swiftly stood up. He forced himself to relax further with every step he took towards Rabastan. He had to do this right, without showing hesitation or discomfort. And darn it – Rabastan _was_ handsome so he didn't know what his problem was! Right, that was exactly what he had to do to enjoy this like he wanted: to focus on, and exploit, Rabastan's good-looks, so that he would feel lust and arousal.

Once he stood in front of the wizard, and inspected him closely, he realized that it wouldn't be hard at all. In his early thirties, the younger Lestrange was strongly built and very fit, with broad shoulders, handsome manly features, thick hair which fell pass the shoulders in glossy dark brown waves, tied with a leather thong at the back, and wearing a belt –visible due to the opened outer robes- holding a pair of daggers. That, and the stealthy aura of dangerousness, fierceness and magical power that oozed from the wizard, captured Orion's attention and sexual interest.

He glanced up, meeting Rabastan's wondering gaze, and said quietly, "We want to… Well, the thing is that I want to bed you, along with the Dark Lord…" He lifted his chin, and asked nonchalantly, "Are you up to it?"

Rabastan frowned at him, his gaze briefly flickering to Voldemort, before he whispered inaudibly, "I would have no problems with bedding you, Orion. You are indeed very beautiful and desirable. But are you sure that you want to do this?"

"Yes," replied Orion resolutely. "But you don't have to do it if you're uncomfortable with it."

"I'm not," interjected Rabastan, intently piercing him with his chestnut eyes. "Are you?"

Orion eyed him closely, but didn't hesitate at all. "No."

And after a brief pause, Rabastan smirked at him in a friendly manner, and said in his deep, low voice, "Then let's do it."


	15. Parting of Ways

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Thanks to all reviewers! Ah, and I won't be updating for a while, I think, since I have loads to study, but I'll keep writing, and when I have enough to fill a chapter, I'll post it.

Oh, many of you won't like what happens in this chapter, but it's how imagine it would go, so, er… well, I still want to read your opinions, so berate me if you like and launch an angry tirade, I would still highly appreciate a review like that *winks*

And I forgot to clarify something in the previous Author's Note. Becoming a full-fledged Necromancer doesn't mean that Orion will turn into a Dementor-like being. The threat of that was when he had been under the influence of the Resurrection Stone, hungering to consume souls. If Orion became a Necromancer, he would be like Loki and the Guild Necromancers, detached, unemotional, and with no wish to be intimate or close to anyone.

Oh, and someone was right when they said that three -and not four- years had passed between Sirius being Kissed and the present. I miscalculated. But I'll definitely go back to correct it when I find the will and time. Thanks for pointing it out. *grins*

As for those who asked about The Avenger: I will definitely not post any chapters for that fic until I've advanced more on this one, or I'll forget all the details of this fic and end up writing an incongruous mess.

**Warning: Explicit Slash Scene.**

* * *

**Chapter 15 **

Orion nodded, faintly smiled at him and swiftly approached the bed, without bothering to glance at Voldemort, and purposely not doing so. Though, he noticed that Rabastan glanced at his Master, as if gauging if he had his Lord permission to go forth. Whatever Voldemort mutely gestured to the wizard, it was certain that Rabastan had been given carte blanche to proceed since the Death Eater followed him to the bed. Orion's lips thinned into a tight line, but he soon turned his expression into a cool, pleasant one. If Voldemort really didn't care about sharing him, then he wouldn't act as if it affected him or as it mattered at all, despite the sudden sharp pang he felt in his chest.

And if what he had said to Rabastan was all it took to 'seduce' the wizard, it was much easier than he had thought... Kara was right: they, wizards, are truly easy… Immediately, he cleared his mind from such inane thoughts, which were evidently caused by his nervousness - just what he couldn't afford. So he shot Rabastan another smile, this one real and encouraging, and relaxedly sat on the grand bed.

Though, the wizard evidently needed no encouragement. Rabastan had already shrugged off his robes and spelled away his shirt, now standing before him in only standard black, Death Eater pants.

Orion slightly swallowed as his gaze travelled along the wizard's toned chest. Yes, Rabastan was handsome indeed, and strong… Yet, he didn't even feel a small spike of lust. But he never had any problem with that when he was with Voldemort; a single heated glance, show of skin, or huskily hissed word sufficed...

Without being able of refraining himself this time, he furtively glanced at his spouse - and frowned. The wizard had taken a seat in the nearest corner of the room, still only wearing trousers, yet observing them with bored disregard.

Disregard… Orion's jaw clenched, and his resolve to go forth hardened. But wasn't Voldemort going to participate? Instantly, he inwardly shook his head, angry at himself. He wasn't supposed to want Voldemort to participate. He was supposed to enjoy himself and utterly ignore the wizard. Cold indifference towards Voldemort was the key.

But he had worried too soon. Suddenly, Rabastan cupped his face tightly, and meshed their mouths together, slowly licking Orion's lips. The wizard pushed him down on the bed, and Orion closed his eyes and parted his lips. Swiftly, Rabastan prodded his tongue inside, and the kiss became very skilled, deep, passionate and exploring, and Orion started feeling swirls of arousal heating his body. In no time, he felt his trousers disappearing, leaving him only in his boxers and his Hogwarts uniform's tie and shirt, and he opened his eyes, meeting Rabastan's lustful gaze.

"A Gryffindor tie," said the wizard in a rumbling, husky voice, smirking as he played with it. "Still a schoolboy…"

Orion smirked back at him, and said loftily, "Appearances can be deceiving."

"I hope so," muttered Rabastan, before he swiftly ripped away Orion's shirt and flung it to the floor.

The wizard nudged Orion's legs apart, and settled himself in between, a smirk creeping on his face as he unsheathed one of the daggers from his belt and showed it to Orion. Orion, who had been slowly trailing his fingertips along the wizard's smooth, hard chest, stilled and gazed up at him with a frown.

"Tell me, Orion," said Rabastan in a deep voice, intently boring his chestnut eyes into his while his smirk widened, "have you ever participated in blood play?"

"No," replied Orion quietly, eyeing the blade with unease. "Nor do I want to-"

"That's because you don't know how pleasurable it can be," interrupted Rabastan huskily, as he slowly swept the dagger's blade along Orion's neck.

Orion felt a slight, slicing pain, but refrained from wincing while he noticed that the wizard was intently watching the cut, as if entranced.

"So the rumors are true," whispered Rabastan, his fascinated gaze fixed on the thin cut while he prolonged it with his dagger's blade. "It's healing almost instantly… you do have vampire blood in you…"

And then, the wizard pressed his body on top of Orion's and slowly swept a warm tongue along the cut, lapping the small drops of blood. Orion made a sound at the back of his throat, and tightly gripped Rabastan's shoulders as the wizard pressed the dagger along his collarbone and heatedly licked the new wound.

Abruptly, Rabastan placed two fingers at the pulse point of Orion's throat, and he smirked. Orion could feel it as well, and he was slightly surprised: his pulse was hammering against the wizard's fingertips, and it was also starting to throb between his thighs - a scorching, overpowering rhythm that demanded fulfillment. The hand on his throat, the hand he suddenly longed to have touching all over, adjusted so that the thumb could brush the soft, small hairs at his nape, and Orion's lips parted in a silent gasp at the innocent yet heated touch.

Rabastan kissed him again, more leisurely this time, closing his eyes as if savoring the feel of Orion's lips against his. And Orion closed his eyes in pleasure as well, while he tasted his own blood in the wizard's warm mouth, feeling a sensation of languorous sensuality. He felt the dagger's blade sinking along his torso, until it reached his hip and suddenly ripped his boxers. Swiftly, still with their mouths locked in a slow, deep kiss, he felt Rabastan grinding his groin against his naked erection, but Orion abruptly stilled when he felt a wet fingertip prodding near his entrance.

He instantly opened his eyes and pulled away from the kiss, coming back to his senses. This wasn't how it would be. And he shook his head while he pushed against Rabastan's chest with his hands.

"No," said Orion hoarsely. "I've always wanted to try something, and I want to try it with you. I'm the one who's going to top."

Rabastan stilled, meeting his gaze with a frown on his face. "I don't usually bottom-"

"But you are going to do it for me," interrupted Orion in soft, silky voice, while a grin tugged his lips.

He slowly caressed the wizard's squared jaw, allowing some of his dark magic to surface to his fingertips, and he felt Rabastan's muscles twitching under his touch while the wizard's lips parted in a haggard intake of breath. And Orion's grin became a smirk. He knew it would work: all dark wizards were enticed by the feel of powerful dark magic, and Rabastan wasn't an exception.

"Aren't you?" pressed on Orion, as he kept tantalizingly caressing the wizard's face.

"Yes," murmured Rabastan huskily, his chestnut eyes heavily lidded.

Orion's smirk widened, and he briefly paused to shoot Voldemort a glance. The wizard was fixedly staring at them, but hadn't moved from his seat and his expression was blank, utterly unaffected by the proceedings, as if indifferent to the whole matter. Orion's lips thinned, but he stopped caring about Voldemort and he shifted in the bed, swiftly pushing Rabastan against it on his stomach.

He slowly inspected the wizard's toned, muscled back and quickly flicked a wrist, making Rabastan's pants and belt slide away to be carelessly flung to the floor. Then he ripped his own tie, rendering both of them fully naked, and caressed the wizard's low back. He noticed, with slight annoyance, that Rabastan had a much larger and taller body than himself, but it soon stopped mattering when the wizard let out an impatient, lusty groan which shot a wave of arousal through his groin.

"No need to be careful," said Rabastan in a raspy, deep voice. "Or to dally any longer…"

Orion arched an eyebrow, but he didn't think about it twice and swiftly casted a lubrication charm on Rabastan's entrance. And without another hitch of breath, he started to slowly prod his erection inside.

Then, he wormed an arm under and around the wizard's waist, slightly pulling him up, and he heavily groaned in pleasure as he pushed his arousal deeper in, feeling it instantly surrounded by an unbearably tight, heated warmth. Finally, he shoved all his way inside, hard and without any considerations, and he dropped a kiss on Rabastan's nape as the wizard slightly tensed and groaned.

Abruptly, he felt a mildly painful twitch on his invisible scar, and Orion halted while he side-glanced at Voldemort. But the wizard's face remained expressionless, so his confused frown disappeared, and he went back to press himself further deeper into Rabastan's body. The wizard shivered as Orion started to pull out, leaving only the head of his arousal inside Rabastan's tight warmth. And he licked the Death Eater's spine at the same time that he snapped his hips to slam all his way back into Rabastan. A loud groan was ripped from the wizard's throat, and Orion kept plunging in and out, with his eyes tightly closed in scorching pleasure, finally discovering why Voldemort liked to top so much and realizing –with some surprise- that he liked this position just as much as bottoming. Being in control was invigorating, and dominating another wizard provoked in him a thrilling sense of overpowering dominance and superiority. A pleased smirk spread over Orion's features. Yes, he definitely liked topping…

Suddenly, Rabastan writhed and shuddered, letting out a long litany of husky, lewd words, and Orion knew that he had struck the wizard's pleasure spot. So he angled his thrusts the same way, and continued to ram into the wizard in powerful, deep and swift plunges.

Rabastan was now weakly supporting himself on elbows and widely parted knees, while Orion kept thrusting into him from behind, as their moans and groans meshed together and echoed throughout the bedroom. Still, Orion felt the pain in his scar increasing and bristling, and as much as it fleetingly confused him, he paid it no mind, and he tightened his arm around Rabastan's waist as he continued.

Every plunge into the wizard's body felt mindlessly good with scorching waves of pleasure, but it was nothing like what he always felt with Voldemort - the roaring pleasure consuming, their mating threateningly dangerous, the clash and mesh of their auras of dark magic enticingly fascinating, the pleasant vibration of the rising of the piece of soul inside him, the heated provoked by hissed words, the frenzied pulse of blood rushing through his veins, the acceleration of his heart thumping in his chest… of all that wasn't happening, but, nevertheless, Orion felt boiling rolls of pleasure swamping him every time Rabastan's body clenched around, and slickly swallowed, his throbbing arousal.

And Rabastan kept responding to him, thrusting back to meet each lunge, obscenely voicing his pleasure, and squeezing Orion's arousal with his gripping, internal muscles, with moves astonishing in their erotic power.

At last, feeling his climax imminent, Orion crept his free hand under Rabastan and he tightly wrapped his fingers around the wizard's painfully hard erection. It seemed that only his touch was enough, for when he gripped the swollen tip of Rabastan's hardness the Death Eater snapped his head back and let out a loud, guttural cry, spilling himself into Orion's hand. Rabastan seemed to scream in pleasure until his lungs burned and his throat ached, before he weakly slumped on the bed. And seconds later, Orion moaned and tightly closed his eyes over his blurry vision, as his own arousal was gripped in the wizard's pulsating and tightly convulsing warmth, and he thrust hard a few more times before he felt his own release filling Rabastan's snug body. He spilled himself deep inside, in ecstatic pulses as he reached cresting climaxes, his blood rushing through his veins and his heart stammering at the same time that he gushed out his release.

Finally, utterly spent, Orion slumped on top of Rabastan, his chest -covered by a thin veil of sweat- sliding against the wizard's back, as he felt the Death Eater's low, haggard breathing. He pressed his forehead against the wizard's warm nape, and caressed the drenched, long locks of hair, as both their thumping hearts slowed down and their breathing evened out.

Then Orion nuzzled into Rabastan's neck, dropped a kiss on the tender area, and murmured, "That was amazing."

Rabastan made a hoarse sound of agreement, and pressed one side of his heated, manly face against the fluffy pillow, to shoot Orion a smirk of absolute satisfaction and languorous contentment.

Abruptly, Orion felt, even through his hazy satiation, an unbearably sharp pain slicing through his scar, and he didn't have the time to understand the reason for it when a firm grasp ripped him out from Rabastan's body and aggressively threw him against the bed, facing down.

The grip around his nape was punishing, and the sound of a zipper going down was ominous and sparked something of a past, distant memory, but Orion didn't have time to voice his complaint before he felt a hard, thick erection ramming into him, without preparation. He gritted his teeth, and tightly closed his eyes, too gone to even care, since he instantly felt waves of burning pleasure rushing through his body. But with each brutal thrust into him, he distantly realized that the one taking him from behind was Voldemort, and that the increasing pain scorching through his invisible scar was caused by the wizard's fury.

Voldemort was angry? Jealous, perhaps? He didn't quite understand, this whole thing had been the wizard's idea. But Voldemort kept savagely ramming into him, hissing angrily, and painfully tightening his grip on Orion's nape, pinning him in place.

Suddenly, through the blackness of his tiredly closed eyelids, Orion had a flash of a recollection which had been previously spurred by the sound of a zipper going down. The circumstances weren't the same at all, but he briefly experienced it again – Regulus' rape, and the emotional pain that accompanied it. But he forced himself to realize that he wasn't feeling emotional pain at present, just slight physical one meshed with heated pleasure and with the vibration of the pulsing connection of the piece of soul inside him with the one in Voldemort and with the one in the pendant that the wizard was wearing. And he purposely closed his eyes tighter and fortified his Occlumency barriers, allowing Voldemort to keep ramming into him, since he wanted to only feel pleasure even if the wizard was taking him in anger, for he didn't want to be wrapped in the painful confusion of mistaking this experience with the one of his past self... That would only lead him to a downward-spiraling lost of his current self – what he feared the most…

Voldemort thrusted hard, snarling as he pounded into Orion, as if his senses had fled and animalistic lust and fury had overcome him. His fingers dug into the slender hips like claws, yanking Orion back with every thrust. He snapped his hips back and forth, hissing into Orion's ear, stretching himself along Orion's back and thrusting madly.

Suddenly, one hand twisted in Orion's thick hair and pulled, roughly exposing his throat.

_"You went through with it,"_ hissed Voldemort irately, grinding harder into Orion, _"And that, along with everything you've done lately, is something I cannot forgive. And now, I'm going to mount you, conquer you, and punish you as I should have done long ago."_ With every word he delivered another merciless thrust. _"Feel me, Orion. Feel. Every. Inch."_

He sank his teeth into Orion's shoulders, pistoning into the body beneath him hard enough to bruise Orion's hips, as his nails left scratching grooves in the flesh. Orion was twisting under him, no longer breathing loudly in pleasure, but becoming desperate as Voldemort pounded the spot inside of him that blasted light across his vision. And when Voldemort impaled him one more time before painfully withdrawing, still hard and making Orion wince, he started battling the hazy myriad of pleasure which veiled his mind, since he was distantly starting to understand and suspect his spouse's real motives and actions...

"Use his mouth," said Voldemort coldly to Rabastan, who had been observing them with content satiation, not noticing that anything was wrong.

"No - stop," wheezed out Orion, as his senses began to come back to him.

Voldemort yanked him up by the hair, piercing him with enraged crimson eyes, and hissed, _"There will be no pleasure for you, my little serpent. I'm going to take you repeatedly, and make you pay. Rabastan will use your mouth and I'll take you from behind. Then, we'll take you both at the same time. And you'll learn what pain and punishment truly means."_

In the bat of an eyelash, Orion was aggressively flung to Rabastan, who now looked confused and troubled, yet obeyed by tightly gripping Orion's shoulders. It was then when everything finally clicked into place, with Voldemort's words sinking into his mind with clarity, and Orion realized his own stupidity.

As Voldemort took position behind him, painfully grasping his hips, he felt a frisson of panic at the resurging flash of Regulus' memory. It wasn't the same case, not the same circumstances, but the similarities with Regulus' rape were there. But above any sense of panic, he felt fury as he had never felt before. Fury and hatred bubbled inside Orion, blazing white-hot, while he felt all-encompassing waves of his dark magic violently swirling inside him.

And in a flash, despite the languidness caused by his former satiation, Orion jumped away from them to stand on the floor, not with wobbly legs, but rigidly firm.

"NEVER WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, you hear?!" roared Orion enraged, his blazing emerald gaze locking with Voldemort's. "WHEN I SAY 'STOP', YOU OBEY!"

And without giving Voldemort a second to defend himself, he shot a palm forward and allowed all his bubbling dark magic to rush out and strike the wizard. Instantly, Voldemort let out a brief, sharp scream as he was propelled against the floor in a whirlpool of wild, ravaging dark magic, before he dug his teeth into his lips to mute his voiced pain. And Orion shivered with dark pleasure as he kept loosely controlling his powers, making Voldemort experience an agony worse than the one cause by a Cruciatus Curse. Agony through every single nerve-ending of the wizard's body, pain to wreck the wizard's mind, yet nothing that would leave traces in the exterior flesh of the man's body. No, the agony would be bristling and boiling deep inside Voldemort, lingering for many days.

Orion kept observing the convulsing wizard with profound satisfaction and impassivity, and for the first time ever, he truly enjoyed and basked in inflicting cruel pain. He felt his dark magic swirling violently inside him, fueled by his anger, roaring and wishing to rip, kill, destroy the wizard before him… Yet, he didn't allow it to go so far… And unbeknownst to him, his green eyes had changed - without consciously calling forth his Necromantic abilities- into glowing pools of pure blackness, as he kept unleashing his unique dark magic in its wild form, like he had done during his breakthrough training session with Grindelwald. His dark magic not restrained by taking any elemental form, but more powerful by being left purely wild and formless.

And Voldemort finally broke, suddenly letting out a piercing scream of agony. His body convulsing, his arms and legs snapping against the floor, and the crimson eyes flashing with wrecking pain and insane fury, but also with an undecipherable emotion – fear? of him? some sort of inexplicable concern? for him? a little bit of both?

Orion didn't know, and didn't care. And he only closed his palm into a fist, and recalled his unique dark magic, when he saw Voldemort losing consciousness as the wizard's eyelids fluttered down jerkily. Then, a gasp made him turn around.

Rabastan's widened gaze was fixed on Voldemort's form, looking perplexed, stunned, and confused about what he should do. The wizard's cautious trepidation was almost palpable. Nevertheless, Orion didn't pay much attention to him, and he simply jerked his wrist and wandlessly clothed the wizard in his Death Eater ensemble, accompanied by the belt with the wizard's sheathed daggers.

"My Lord – My Lord Black," muttered Rabastan, giving Orion a low bow, shifting his weight uneasily from one leg to the other.

At that, Orion did glance at him, surprised. That was the first time a Death Eater had truly addressed him as 'My Lord Black'. Rodolphus Lestrange sometimes called him 'Lord Black' but it was done in the wizard's particular jeering and playful manner. Moreover, Bellatrix and other Death Eaters only called him 'Lord Black' when Voldemort was around. And the difference in the mode of address was enormous, the awed and true respect implicit, since Rabastan had first called him 'My Lord' and then '_My_ Lord Black', and not simply 'Lord Black'.

And Orion knew, with a realization that struck him hard in its foretelling consequences, that this moment was the beginning of something much greater – the start of what he saw in his visions, when they called him 'Lord Black' in fierce zealousness and passionate devotion. Since he knew that at having rendered Voldemort unconscious he had proved just how powerful he was, also proving that he had the guts to do it, and that Rabastan was surely going to mention it in Death Eater ranks. Rabastan wouldn't be stupid enough to tell the details, since Voldemort was still his Lord, and feared, but the wizard would surely let others Death Eaters know, by subtle and vague gossip, that he had bested their Master. Trading information and favors was something frequently done in Death Eater ranks, and Rabastan would be considered a desired ally with this tasty bit of gossip, and the wizard was aware of it and was going to use it to gain prestige in Death Eater ranks.

For minute, Orion considered ordering Rabastan to keep his mouth shut since he truly didn't want to rid Voldemort of his influence. But, he quickly dismissed the notion. This had to happen eventually and it worked in his favor that Death Eaters finally became aware of the extent of his abilities and powers. Moreover, with this, Death Eaters would consider him an equal to Voldemort or someone even beyond the wizard, but they wouldn't instantly change loyalties unless he expressly demanded it. Death Eaters were nothing if not slyly cautious and they wouldn't shift from one Master to another without being certain that the new Master wanted them.

Therefore, he merely gazed at Rabastan, and said coolly, "Leave."

Rabastan briefly glanced at him, before bowing again and swiftly leaving the bedroom, not needing to be told twice, and seemingly quite glad and eager to do so.

Once the door closed, Orion didn't even glance at Voldemort's prone form. He simply accioed his wand and pulled a silk, thin robe over his body. He knew he couldn't leave Riddle Manor without discussing what had happened with Voldemort –it would only make it worst- but he would take some time to think matters through. Thus, he would wait for the wizard to naturally regain his consciousness, because, quite frankly, he needed time to cool down and he didn't want to deal with the wizard at present.

So Orion impassively stepped over Voldemort's form and left the bedroom, whilst musing where he should go to wait for the wizard, without feeling remotely concerned about Voldemort's subsequent state of mind or body.

* * *

It was pleasantly breezy outside the manor. The mid-May spring night starry, the air warm without being stifling, and the darkness cozy. And in his ponderings, Orion's feet had taken him to a place he had never been before: the cemetery near Riddle Manor. It was a dark, overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to the right, a hill rose above to the left, and Orion could see the outline of the fine, old Riddle Manor on the hillside.

Almost an hour had passed, and Voldemort –who had undoubtedly recovered consciousness by now- had not yet made an appearance. But Orion found himself not caring, while he explored with interest one grave that had caught his attention.

With the flicker of his wandlight, Orion saw a name upon the towering marble headstone: Tom Riddle. And he arched an eyebrow. So the tomb contained the decayed bones of Voldemort's muggle father...

Suddenly, a sound of muffled steps came to his ears, and he calmly turned around and leaned on the headstone, as he watched a figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward him between the graves.

Orion didn't even bother squinting in the darkness to discover who it was, since he knew that Voldemort could easily feel him, and find him, anywhere close by. For a second, the figure paused besides a grave, before it took a step forward to be bathed in the dim moonlight.

And Orion inspected him closely. Voldemort was fully dressed, and nothing in his fluid, graceful movements or closed expression gave away any hint of lingering pain. The wizard's darkly handsome features were blankly expressionless, and the crimson eyes watched him with calm coldness.

"_You attacked me with your dark magic – again,_" hissed Voldemort conversationally, while taking one more step closer.

"_Because you were about to rape me,"_ said Orion impassively, regarding him with measured indifference. Then he quirked an eyebrow, and hissed calmly, _"I wonder, Tom, how many of those who got personally close to you, and who betrayed you in your opinion, have been raped by you or by your orders."_

"_I have never raped you,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, narrowing his crimson eyes, yet halting a few feet away from him. _"I wasn't going to rape you either-"_

Orion scoffed, and interjected nonchalantly, _"You would have, hadn't I stopped you."_ He pierced the wizard with a hard gleam in his eyes. _"__You wanted to use sex as a means of punishment – that's nothing if not rape, Tom."_

"_It would have been punishment but not rape,"_ hissed Voldemort in curt and deadly quiet tone of voice. He intently gazed at him, and sneered, _"And I have taught you the refinements of feeling pleasure in sexual pain, so I think you would have enjoyed it, nonetheless."_

"_I enjoy mild pain if it's not inflicted as punishment," _said Orion sternly, narrowing his eyes at him. _"And you know it. So cut through the bullshit, Tom. Furthermore, your whole 'threesome' suggestion was nothing but a test. You never really meant for me to be with others-" _

"_Of course I didn't," _snarled Voldemort irately, his crimson eyes flashing with anger._ "I never share. I simply wanted to see if you would go through with it." _He eyed him with contempt, and said scathingly, _"And you obviously could. Your whorish wantonness seemingly knows no boundaries, even disregarding marital ones." _

Orion gritted his teeth, but forced himself to be unaffected by those words, without taking the barbed bait. He wouldn't act in brash anger, for he needed to remain collected in order to discuss matters effectively. And because, frankly, he was tired of always fighting with him.

With a deep, exhausted sigh, he pierced Voldemort with his eyes, and gestured between them. _"I cannot endure a lifetime of this. Not how it's currently going on. I'm tired of it, Tom. I'm sick of it-"_

In a flash, Voldemort had pressed him against the towering headstone, gripping Orion's chin, his crimson eyes flashing in anger, as he hissed vehemently, "_YOU are sick of this? I have given you EVERYTHING! I could have made you a Death Eater, my pet, my catamite, my prisoner, or my whore. Instead, I acknowledged your power and importance and made you my spouse – my EQUAL. I've given you everything, and yielded to your wishes countless of times, yet it's not enough for you! What do you want? I no longer know!"_

Orion firmly closed his mouth shut, and slightly frowned at him, realizing the truth of the wizard's words. Yet, Voldemort was right; it wasn't enough, since he wasn't always treated as an equal and since he wanted more. But maybe what he wanted – to know that Voldemort not only appreciated and cared for him but that the wizard also felt something deeper for him, such as love- was pointless and useless, if not ridiculous. Perhaps he should simply accept that 'love' was something he would never obtain from him. He knew he could have it from others – from Draco… and Lezander, hoping truly that Lezander's feelings hadn't changed and that the vampire remembered. Moreover, maybe he shouldn't look to love and be loved back, at all. Grindelwald had told him to seek it, and indulge in it, while he could, before attempting to undergo the Vindico test. But perhaps he was already too far ahead to even have it, or still want it, anymore.

"_What do you want?_" hissed Voldemort sharply, piercing him with crimson eyes while his fingers loosely wrapped around Orion's neck. "_What are you doing?_ _Whatever it is, it's pushing you against me, and I am tired of that! I'm tired of not being given explanations, of you constantly going behind my back, and of you keeping secrets from me."_

"_And what do you want from me?_" interjected Orion, purposely spinning it around since he didn't quite know what to tell him.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him, and hissed quietly, "_The truth – the truth about what you have been doing."_

Orion's frown deepened, as he considered what, and how much, to say. But then, abruptly, Voldemort painfully tightened his grasp around Orion's neck, and hissed irately,_ "And you still won't tell me… I should choke you to death, since I would take more pleasure in killing you with my bare hands._"

"_What stops you from trying?_" countered Orion nonchalantly, gazing at him with supreme impassiveness.

"_Nothing,_" hissed Voldemort sharply, his crimson eyes darkening, yet he loosened his grasp. Suddenly, he smirked, and said in a venomously silky voice, "_But you are my horcrux, my little serpent. Much to my regret, I can't kill you."_

Abruptly, Voldemort pinned him further against the headstone, his smirk widening in dangerous deviousness while he tightly gripped Orion's wrists in his hands. "_Despite everything, I won't kill you – yet. But if you keep pushing me, I will. Nevertheless, I have other uses for you, and even if I'm not willing to kill you at present, I can, however, punish you…. I should have done this when we were with Rabastan." _His smirk twisted into a vicious and slightly self-reproaching thing. _"I was too considerate to have done so. Not anymore."_

Not liking what he was hearing, Orion struggled against the painfully hard grip around his wrists, immediately preparing himself to use his dark magic. But, suddenly, his wrists glowed in a faint silver light, forming a sort of dim handcuffs around them.

"_You think __your strange dark magic is unbeatable,"_ hissed Voldemort into Orion's ear, as he pressed his groin against his. _"But I told you I would find a way to restrain you. You shouldn't have underestimated me, my little serpent."_

Orion gasped and his eyes grew with alarm, as he repeatedly tried to shot forth his dark magic but something immediately blocked it, causing painful waves to course throughout his body. He tried to claw the fingers around his wrist, so that he could reach and use his wand, also trying to accio it wandlessly, but no magic came forth, and he started to struggle frantically, while Voldemort merely observed him with cruel amusement.

Finally, he gritted his teeth, and snarled enraged, "Release me – take them off me!"

Voldemort chuckled viciously, and hissed silkily into his neck, "_I won't. Oh, and this won't be me raping you. This will be me using you like a whore – because you certainly don't deserve to be treated like my spouse. Spouses share plans, and don't keep secrets. Therefore, I'll show you what you have lost in your disregard. And you'll learn to value the position I gave you. And you'll beg me to treat you like my spouse once again. If you behave, perhaps I will – someday. "_

Instantly, the wizard lifted Orion's thin, silk robe, baring him naked from the waist down, while he summarily lowered his trouser's zipper.

"No!" roared Orion frenziedly, frantically trying to break loose. "I won't be able to stop it – I will see it happening again! Don't do this, Tom! I won't be able to restrain it-"

But his words seemed to land on deaf ears, since he instantly felt a flare of pain tearing into him, as Voldemort thrusted himself in, while hissing haggardly into his ear, _"Don't worry… I'll be magnanimous and give you some pleasure."_

Orion made a choking sound at the back of his throat, and tightly scrunched his eyes shut against the spurred assault of images and painful sensations… He never stopped trying to push them away, tightening his Occlumency mind barriers, and he never stopped trying to struggle free from Voldemort's hold, trying unsuccessfully to use his magic, but the avalanche swept into his mind, regardless… The sound of zippers being pulled down, the pain of being tied by hissings snake to the stone altar, the repeated brutal push of Death Eaters into his body, the caring and surreptitious caress of Lucius Malfoy, Severus' pleading command echoing in his mind, the cruel jeers of others, the crimson eyes coldly observing how he was continuously raped, and the crippling agony of the thrusts, as his resolution hardened and he glanced at the shard of glass, his only means of escape and blissful oblivion…

All of those images, feelings, emotions, and thoughts, confusedly meshing with the distant pleasure caused by Voldemort's current thrusts into him, accompanied by the wizard's sharp hissed words into his ear…unintelligible, yet clearly angrily punishing… And frantically, Orion tried his last hope, and he plunged himself into the detached and cold mantle of his Necromantic abilities, being able to spur them frenziedly inside of him, despite not being able to use them outwardly… And abruptly, all images and painful recollections slowly faded from his mind, like a thick, sluggish veil, and he knew true peace for a moment and loudly exhaled…

"_Don't try to use Occlumency to escape from this,_" hissed Voldemort sharply, slamming Orion's head against the towering headstone. "_Open your eyes - Look at me!"_

Hazily, slowly becoming aware of his present circumstances, Orion unwittingly obeyed, foggily gazing up at the wizard.

Voldemort's crimson eyes marginally widened, and he abruptly pulled himself out from Orion, tightly gripping his chin as he roared madly, "_No! You will stop using your Necromantic abilities!"_ He aggressively and wildly shook him, _"Do you hear – Orion?!"_

Orion merely silently gazed up at him, feeling nothing but complete and blissfully cold detachment. He wasn't even angry at what Voldemort had done, he even fleetingly understood that it was Voldemort's twisted and desperate way of trying to have a greater hold over him, of trying to make him obey, to have him back, but yet, it didn't quite matter, for he had found a method to push away the recollections of his past reincarnations. And that filled him with a sort of mild contentment, and triumph, though he knew he couldn't rely on it forever.

"_Stop using your abilities__ – turn your eyes to normal!"_ hissed Voldemort irately. _"By still using your Necromantic powers you're worsening your own situation, since I won't allow you to become a full-fledged Necromancer. So came back to yourself – now!"_

"Then release me," said Orion indifferently, distantly realizing that Voldemort looked badly shaken, though perhaps it had been a figment of his imagination since the wizard's features turned expressionlessly cold, instantly.

Voldemort took a step back and casually waved a hand, and Orion slumped against the headstone while he immediately felt the difference, as the handcuff-like silver glows disappeared from his wrists. He felt his dark magic violently and animatedly swirling and rising inside him, as if overflowing and breaking through a dam. Yet, he tightly controlled it and also settled down his Necromantic powers. Leaving him devoid from the pleasant detachment, but more aware of what had happened.

Nevertheless, despite the rage he instantly felt at what Voldemort had done, his fury was a cold and calm one, and he did nothing except impassively gaze back at the wizard as he wandlessly accioed the clothes he had left in Voldemort's bedroom. Once clothed again in his Hogwarts' uniform, he glanced up to meet the wizard's gaze.

"_I should kill you for taking me against my will,"_ hissed Orion coldly, his jaw clenching while he pierced him with a hard gleam in his eyes.

Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed, and he hissed sharply, "_What stops you from trying?_"

"_Nothing,"_ replied Orion, the allusion to their past trade of words not escaping him.

And he slightly frowned at the wizard. Yes, Voldemort had been shaken by his use of Necromancy, believing he had used those abilities to escape from what Voldemort was doing to him, when in truth he had just been trying to push away the memories... So Voldemort truly didn't want him to become a full-fledged Necromancer. Was it due to concern? Because the wizard didn't want him to be unemotional and detached? Probably, but it made no difference. He wasn't going to change his plans.

Orion narrowed his eyes at him, and said curtly, "_I will find out a way to break that spell you used to restrain my magic. Don't believe I wasn't capable of it now because I'm not powerful enough. I am, and next time, trust me when I say that I'll be myself and easily accomplish it. My dark magic will never be so easily blocked, by you or anyone else. It simply can't – it's unparalleled."_

A sneer spread on Voldemort's face, yet he waved a hand lazily, as if dismissing the subject, and he took a menacing step towards Orion.

"_You will not become a full-fledged Necromancer,"_ he stated in a sharp, commanding hiss.

Orion arched an eyebrow, before he smirked at him. _"I will, and there's nothing you can do to stop it from happening."_

"_Why?"_ hissed Voldemort, the muscles of his jaw clenching, as he pierced him with enraged crimson eyes. _"Why do you wish to become a Necromancer so fiercely? Don't tell me it's to have more power – I don't believe it's that simple! You've never mindlessly coveted and hungered for power just for the sake of it. Why are you doing it?"_

Orion's first impulsive wish was to fling back a 'I'm doing it for you! Because I don't want to kill you, and becoming a Necromancer is the only way to obtain more power and spare you.' And thus finally telling him all what he had kept a secret: about the Hallows, the Spirits, and the Vindico Atrum matter. But he didn't say that, because somewhere along the path from mind to mouth, his thoughts had shifted gear and he had realized the truth: that those words were no longer, indeed, true.

He wanted to become the Vindico for himself. And even though there was the threat that the 'pull' of his dark magic would eventually drive him insane if he didn't try to become the Vindico, he knew there were other options. Grindelwald had circumvented that for decades, by allowing to be defeated so that Dumbledore would place him a in cell with wards that muted Grindelwald's dark magic – thus, not feeling the pull. Orion would never resort to something that drastic, but he hadn't really looked for alternatives which would abate the 'pull'. And now, he didn't want to, because he really wished to become the Vindico; regardless of Voldemort and anyone else. He wanted it, for himself. And he was so close to it… just a Hallow away… And though he was tired from keeping secrets that constantly made him argue and fight with Voldemort, he wasn't willing to jeopardize all what he had accomplished. He only needed a few more months, and when he finally ripped the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's dead hands, he would tell Voldemort everything, at last… He just needed a few more months…

"_What are you__ doing, Orion?"_ hissed Voldemort quietly, piercing him with his eyes, and there was a very slight hint of beseech that didn't escape Orion's notice, as much as the wizard didn't want to let it be known. _"What are you doing behind my back? I'm giving you a chance of telling me now."_

"_You are," _said Orion impassively, his resolve hardening._ "But I can't tell you. I will once I'm done with a few things."_

"_I see," _hissed Voldemort, his expression turning icily cold. _"Very well, my little serpent, it's your choice – one you'll come to regret." _Suddenly, he dug out something from his robes and carelessly flung it to Orion. _"Take it, and give to Dumbledore the memory you supposedly coaxed from Slughorn."_

Orion deftly caught the stoppered vial in mid air, and briefly glanced at it to see a silver swirl floating inside, before he pocketed it. _"Thanks, I will."_

"_Good,_" hissed Voldemort sharply, eyeing him with supreme indifference. _"Now leave."_

Orion frowned, a bit perplexed. _"What – that's it?"_

"_As I told you, my patience with you has come to an end."_

"_Meaning?"_ said Orion, his frown deepening.

"_Meaning,"_ sneered Voldemort contemptuously, "_that I'm done with you, Orion."_

Orion gazed at him intently, feeling a sharp twinge of slight desperation, sorrow, and grieving regret, and he muttered quietly, _"So this is it, then? We're over?"_

"_Over?" _hissed Voldemort silkily, his voice dripping with snide. _"Oh, no, we're never going to be over. You're still my horcrux – mine, in all ways that matter. Nevertheless, I will not further trouble myself with you. Do as you like. Become a full-fledged Necromancer. I don't really care. I know you'll always support the Dark." _He chuckled sharply and mirthlessly._ "I'm sure of it because you know that you can't turn to Dumbledore. You know he'll only try to use you, and that's something you don't want. So now that I'm allowing you to part ways, I will not be concerned by it." _

Orion stared at him, saying nothing, and Voldemort's features darkened while he bore his crimson eyes into Orion's green ones, and hissed with impatient anger, "_Isn't this what you wanted? To be free from me? Well, my little serpent, you've accomplished it. I'm no longer regarding you as my spouse – how could I, when you haven't acted as one, blatantly and evidently?" _He scoffed, and hissed indifferently, _"No, I'm not going to consider you my spouse any longer. And when I have the time for it, I'll undo our magical marital bond. It's relatively simple. I will only need the acquiescence of our five bonders. And I will either convince or force them. From henceforth, you'll be, if you like, an ally of the Dark, free to move independently yet serving our same goals. Is that agreeable to you?"_

"_I … er," _said Orion hesitantly, a deep frown spreading over his forehead.

"_Isn't it?!"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, instantly tightly gripping Orion's chin and lifting it to pierce him with a demanding, narrowed crimson gaze._ "You should be happily gloating, my little serpent. Isn't this what you wanted all along? Well, you have it. I'm tired of this mockery of a marriage too. I honestly gave it a try, yet I should have known that neither of us was prepared for it. And, most especially, that you weren't truly willing to yield as much as I have. Thus, I'm releasing you from any commitment towards me, except your link to me as my horcrux and your support to me since I am the Dark Lord. You'll be my ally, our union of supporters now truly just a political and war matter."_

"_I understand," _said Orion quietly, firmly meeting his intense, piercing gaze. _"If that's want you want, then it's agreeable to me."_

"_Of course is it," _hissed Voldemort, contemptuously releasing Orion's chin._ "Now leave."_

Orion hesitated, and finally said,_ "Okay, but when the time is right, I will truly tell you all about what I have been doing. You think that I didn't take our marital union seriously, but that's not the case. What I told you was true-"_

"_What – your manipulative, unfelt, and pathetic words of love?" _hissed Voldemort snidely, his expression twisting into one of cruel mockery.

Orion clamped his mouth shut. He hadn't been alluding to _that_ at all, and he didn't like to be reminded of it. It was too raw, still. Yet, he wondered that the wizard had it so present in his mind. And that Voldemort had brought it up at this crucial time – their obvious parting of ways, despite the reluctance that Orion felt. But he knew that it was probably a good idea to distance themselves for a while, because everything just keep turning worse and uglier between them... Nevertheless, the reminder of his love-confession felt like a blade twisting in an already open wound. Moreover, he wasn't willing to discuss his former 'declaration of love' or to insist that it had been honest and true. Not now, and maybe never.

Therefore, with a cold expression on his face, he hissed impassively, "_Right. They were unfelt. So I guess we have nothing left to discuss. You'll sever our magical bond and we'll no longer be spouses. I will be your ally and fight for the Dark - that's all what matters."_

And without glancing back at him, he swiftly closed his eyes, quickly concentrated, and instantly apparated away.


	16. Vulcan's block, the Elite & recruiting

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Well, and I thought that I wouldn't be updating for a while *snickers* This just proves that when the muse strikes, she nags and nags until you have to concede and sit down to type on your computer, just to put down in writing the flow of ideas that won't leave you alone and don't let you study. *grins* Anyway, I am sleepy and tired, so I'll be replying to reviews the next time I post, and there were many excellent reviews which I will most certainly reply to directly, since I can't do it here!

Oh, and I had to describe many scenes in this chapter instead of writing them with dialogues because if not I would simply would have never ended writing, and also because I wanted to pick up the pace a little. The good thing is that we're approaching the end of Orion's sixth year, and that will be very fun to write.

So enjoy & review!

* * *

**Chapter 16**

The instant Orion apparated to Black Manor, his impassive expression crumbled. He was aware that he had crossed a turning point in his life, and it felt rather ominous, accompanied by a deep sense of lost – painful and piercing. Indeed, his relationship with Voldemort had effectually ended. And despite that he realized the positive benefits of it, it grieved him more than anything, since he hadn't wanted it to happen, and even less in that way – parting in cold anger and with so many things left unsaid.

Nevertheless, he had something clear: he would not allow himself to wallow in misery and dejection. He couldn't afford it. He had many things to do. Furthermore, his separation from Voldemort wasn't the end of things between them. When he obtained the last Hallow, he would tell the wizard everything… Well, almost everything, since he didn't want Voldemort to turn against him and try to steal the Hallows from him – which would certainly be what Voldemort would do. Thus, he was aware that his revelation had to be maneuvered wisely – slyly spinning the disclosure regarding all VA matters, telling Voldemort part of the truth without jeopardizing everything he had accomplished. But he would worry about that when the time came.

Therefore, it was pointless to grieve about what had happened between Voldemort and him. He simply wouldn't. He had loads on his plate. And that's exactly what he inwardly repeated to himself, steeling his determination.

Regardless, Orion hesitated about apparating to Potter Manor, as he had intended to do. He didn't think he could stand his father at present. The wizard would again question why he was still Voldemort's spouse, and he wasn't prepared to tell him that he wouldn't remain married for too long. He honestly didn't think he could bear his father's subsequent cheerfulness and roaring triumph. No, he would just end up crucioing Sirius, he had no doubt about that, since he didn't feel composed enough to put up with him.

But there was someone else he could visit, as he had waited the whole week to do. Thus, Orion wasted no more time and he entered his bedroom to grab the schoolbag with the clothes he had packed for the weekend – the one he had left behind after Loki told him about what had happened with the Dementors and Voldemort.

Finally, he ruthlessly pushed away all depressing and uselessly sorrowful thoughts, pulled a nonchalant expression on his face, and he climbed into the nearest fireplace, flinging floo powder in it, and clearly stating his destiny - while he prepared himself to demand some answers.

The moment Orion stumbled out of the green flames and into the grand office, he saw his Headmaster standing up from behind the large, ornate desk, with a startled and perplexed expression on his aged features. The office was dimly lit by a few candles here and there, and the old wizard was wearing a silky black night-robe. The man had clearly been about to go to sleep, after a late night of work.

"Orion – I wasn't expecting you this Friday night. Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts? You usually floo to Durmstrang on Saturday mornings."

Orion merely grunted, as he flicked his wrist to wandlessly clean the soot from his robes, before he carelessly dropped his schoolbag on the floor.

"Is everything well?" said Vagnarov, gesturing for him to take a seat.

Orion grumbled something as a response, while he tiredly plopped down on the offered armchair. Then he pierced the old wizard with his eyes, his sour mood worsening due to the innocently befuddled and concerned expression on his Headmaster's face.

"What's wrong, Orion? You look pale and troubled. In your letter you told me that everything went well when you resurrected your father-"

"That's not why I might look troubled to you," interrupted Orion briskly, "but it is why I have come here to see you. I've waited the whole week for this."

Vagnarov stared at him, puzzled and worried, and Orion finally spat angrily, "Death is only the beginning, Vulcan!" He pierced the startled old wizard with his eyes, and gritted out accusingly, "I have only heard YOU say that. Only you! I've never heard it from anyone else – muggle, wizard, or Necromancer. And I have never read that phrase in any textbook, not even those pertaining to the Necromantic Arts. Not verbatim, at least. It's entirely a phrase of your own!"

The old wizard blinked at him, before he intertwined his fingers on top of the desk, calmly gazing back at him. "It is. I've said it enough times during my Necromancy classes for you to know that it's a phrase of my own. Do you care tell me why you've flooed here to merely say it back to me?"

"And do you care tell me," interjected Orion crisply, his jaw clenching, "why Regulus Black knew your phrase? Why he spouted it to Voldemort the night he was tortured – just before he killed himself!"

Vagnarov paled, his dark eyes widening as he bore them into Orion's, and he said in a thread of a whisper, "How do you know about that?" His gaze became grieved, and his expression conflicted. "Regulus Black committed suicide? I thought Lord Voldemort had killed him-"

"Yes, that's what everyone thought," groused out Orion. "Evidently, that was what Voldemort ordered those present to say. But no, Regulus killed himself, just before saying, amongst other things, that 'Death is only the beginning'." He narrowed his eyes at the old man, and demanded sharply, "Why did he say that, Vulcan? When did you interact with Regulus, and why?!"

"How do you know about this?" muttered Vagnarov, his shoulders dropping as if supporting a great burden.

"Because I saw, felt, and experienced it myself," snapped Orion, his emerald eyes flashing with anger. "Because I was Regulus, Vulcan! I felt every thrust into my – his body, every rape, and I experienced every thought he had and every pain inflicted on him - everything!"

Vagnaroved deeply frowned at him. "What do you mean that you were Regulus? You saw this in a pensieve? You came upon a memory of Regulus Black?"

"No," bit out Orion grouchily, piercing him with his eyes. "I mean that I was truly Regulus Black – he was the previous reincarnation of my soul!" The old wizard's eyes grew large, and Orion jerkily carded his fingers through his hair, as he continued more calmly, "I haven't told anyone, and I didn't want to tell you in my letter, just to be safe. But Cadmus did something to me." He confusedly shook his head, and muttered, "I don't know how he did it, but when I confronted him he purposely made me remember some of my past lives' experiences. Just Regulus', though he wanted me to remember way back. Fortunately, I was able to break away from it, and Cadmus stopped trying to force me to remember."

He let out a sharp, mirthless chuckle. "Oh, now I know why he didn't try harder! Now I know why Cadmus went into the Necromancer's Gate so calmly, without taking any further revenge on me. He knew he would leave me behind tortured by what he had done to me... I thought that he could only inflict those memories on me while I was in his presence, but that's not the case! I succeeded, Cadmus is dead, but this whole past week I've been experiencing my past rebirths' lives – in the flesh. I feel everything they did! And it happens at all times, sporadically, not only in my dreams, when I'm awake as well. Cadmus certainly took his revenge on me, Vulcan! And do you want to know why he hated me so much? It's because I was Sextus Black – Cadmus' son with Ursula Black. I was the patriarch of the main Black line!"

"You were Regulus… and Sextus Black," muttered Vulcan, staring at him with a befuddled expression on his face.

"To name a few," interjected Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at the old wizard. "From what I could gather when experiencing my past lives' memories, I have always been reborn into dark wizards – always male, magical, and dark. How's that possible? I thought reincarnations didn't follow a specific pattern. Furthermore, a soul usually takes decades if not centuries to be reborn again. Yet, my soul passed from Regulus to me in only a few months, after Regulus' death. Why? Why does my soul reincarnates so swiftly, whilst following such pattern?"

"I don't know," said Vagnarov quietly, with a deep and troubled frown on his face. "Necromancers believe that there is no pattern in reincarnations. Not one which follows gender, blood, and type of magic, at least." He bore his eyes into Orion's, and asked puzzled, "And you say the High One did this to you? I wasn't aware that Dementors had this ability."

"I don't think they do, because we would have heard something about it if they could do this," said Orion crisply. "I think only Cadmus had the power to unlock in me the memories of my past lives. It would make sense, since Cadmus was the first Dementor, the most ancient and powerful one."

"True," murmured Vagnarov, his expression still deeply pensive while he leaned back against his high, ornate armchair.

Orion pierced the old wizard with his eyes, and demanded, "How did Cadmus do this to me and how can I reverse it?"

"I don't know," replied Vagnarov quietly. "But it's safe to assume that what he did to you is similar to the Necromantic spell with which we can force summoned souls to remember their past lives. That spell cannot be used on souls inside living wizards, only on souls already in the spiritual plane, but it's clear that the High One used a variation of this spell."

"But how do I reverse it?" pressed on Orion impatiently.

Vagnarov eyed him with a hint of sadness and regret. "I don't know, my boy. I've never heard of such a thing." He leaned forward, and his eyes gleamed as he added quietly, "But perhaps you could see this as a benefit. You can learn much from your soul's past lives – the history of yourself, the arcane spells of old, some of the lost and ancient knowledge of the Dark Arts-"

"Yes, it sounds wonderful when you put it that way," interrupted Orion briskly. "But the problem is that everything I experience is not only unsettling but often painful – emotionally and psychologically! They seem to be the worst memories of my past selves. You have no idea about the things I've been experiencing lately. Thank Circe that I've never been a rapist, as far as I could see, but – yup! Psychopathic tendencies have certainly been my constant companions throughout the ages! I've killed brothers, fathers, muggles, light wizards, and also dark wizards unrelated to me, not to mention poisoning wives, having countless mistresses and catamites, stealing, torturing, and murdering for my own benefit. I've been feared, despised, rejected, and not frequently loved or esteemed, though I've certainly garnered respect by show of riches, influence or power. Yet, I have occasionally been others' victim. I've been burned alive by muggles, lynched by mobs, raped as punishment, murdered by wives, poisoned by rivals, tortured by-"

"Your past reincarnations aren't who you currently are, Orion!" interjected Vulcan, looking frazzled and unsettled. "You must understand this. There's a reason why we aren't meant to know about our past lives. You must separate who you are at present from who you have been-"

"That's exactly my point – I CAN'T!" roared Orion angrily, pounding his fists on the wizard's desk, which made a few books jump in the air. "I've tried everything I could imagine, Vulcan. Occlumency failed, parsel spells did too, and I could only momentarily halt the influx of memories with my Necromantic abilities – it worked for a few minutes, but nothing assures me that the assault of past experiences won't be triggered again! And I cannot trot around Hogwarts whilst imbued in my Necromantic powers – my all-black eyes would give me away!"

Vagnarov flinched back, clearly startled by his angry outburst – by his show of short-fused Black temper… Or was it the headstrong Potter temper? Or the Lily Evans fiery temper? Well, it didn't matter, because from all of his three parents –blood adopted or biological- he had inherited temper to spare. Nevertheless, he didn't like to take out his stressed vexation on the old wizard, so he breathed deeply, forcing himself to calm down.

Orion carded his fingers through his hair, and said quietly, "Look, I have learned a lot from my past lives, even arcane old spells, as you said. But I'm not willing to go on like this. I know no rest, Vulcan. I need it to stop."

"I understand," murmured Vagnarov. "Perhaps, there's something I can do to help you. I should take a look into your mind to discover if something can be done."

"Good," said Orion, heaving in another deep breath. "That's precisely why I came to you. Obviously, I can't legilimize myself, but you can. And if what Cadmus did to me is anything similar to that Necromantic spell we talked about, then you could use Legilimency and your Necromantic abilities to form some sort of block in my mind."

Vagnarov nodded. "That seems a viable solution." He pierced him with his eyes, and said gravely, "If I succeed, do you want me to obliviate all the memories you have already experienced?"

"I…" Orion deeply frowned at him, and finally said firmly, "No. I want to remember them. But before you try it, I need my answers." He narrowed his eyes at the old wizard, and demanded sharply, "Did you ever meet Regulus Black?"

"Yes."

Orion's eyes narrowed further. "He said 'Death is only the beginning' because you said that phrase to him?"

"Yes," replied Vagnarov with a heavy sigh.

"Well, do explain, Vulcan," snapped Orion crisply, his jaw clenching. "Regulus never attended Durmstrang, so how did you have contact with him, and more importantly, why?"

Vagnarov eyed him silently, his features seeming more aged and burdened than usual, and he finally said quietly, "I met Regulus Black when the boy was eighteen years old, at a reunion purposely orchestrated so that I could meet him. It took place half a year after Regulus graduated from Hogwarts, and the host was Horace Slughorn." He pierced him with his eyes. "Do you know who that was? The real one, I mean, and not the false one currently at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, I know about him. The real Slughorn was an Aux Atrum," said Orion crisply, his hands balling into fists. "I see. You met me-" He shook his head, clearing it from the usual fog of confusion between his current and past selves, and continued, "You met Regulus at a SlugClub reunion party." He narrowed his eyes at the old man, and demanded angrily, "You were sent there by the Spirits, weren't you? Did they use Regulus as well? Was Regulus a VA candidate?"

"No, Regulus was never a candidate," replied Vagnarov quietly. "He was powerful above average but not extraordinarily, and he was untrained. His bloodline was of interest to the Spirits, but the boy wasn't powerful enough to yield the unique type of dark magic that you and Grindelwald have. Yet, as I said, the Spirits were interested in him. I was ordered to bring Regulus to Durmstrang during a weekend, and I know that the Spirits showed themselves to him during the visit. But I don't know what they spoke about. Regardless, I perceived a change in Regulus after that."

"What change?" interjected Orion, deeply frowning as he leaned forward. "Did the Spirits cast a compulsion mind web on him? What was he ordered to do?"

"I don't know," said Vagnarov with a heavy sigh. "But I don't think they casted any compulsions on him. He merely seemed awed, unsettled, yet also brimming with a new found sense of purpose."

Orion fiercely rubbed his forehead, and muttered, "What did the Spirits tell Regulus? What did they want from him…"

"I think it's pretty obvious by now," interjected Vagnarov quietly, boring his black eyes into Orion's. "Back then, I didn't know about horcruxes or that the Dark Lord had made several, but I'm sure the Spirits were aware of it-"

Orion snorted, and said acidly, "Of course they were. The Spirits made Slughorn influence Voldemort when he was a schoolboy. It was because of the mind web casted on him that Voldemort became obsessed about immortality. Voldemort made several horcruxes simply because the Spirits wanted a Dark Lord who would live long enough until a VA candidate appeared and killed him. That's all what Voldemort is to the Spirits – cattle for slaughter."

"Yes, that sounds as something the Spirits would do," said Vagnarov impassively, eyeing him closely. "And now that Valois disclosed to me the existence of the Dark Lord's horcruxes, I can only conclude that the Spirits ordered me to bring Regulus to them because they wanted to speak to someone close to the Dark Lord. You see, back then Regulus was already a Death Eater, and also… well…"

"Oh, you can say it," interjected Orion briskly. "I saw it. I was him, after all. Regulus was already Voldemort's fuck toy, then."

Vagnarov looked a bit uncomfortable, before he sharply nodded. "Yes, it was widely known in Death Eater ranks. And of course we, the Aux Atrum, had our spy among them."

"Of course," said Orion dryly. "So what you suspect is that the Spirits wanted to talk to Regulus because they knew he was close to Voldemort. So they were looking for another spy, or…"

His eyes widened, but Vagnarov beat him to it and explained his own conclusion, "I think the Spirits divulged to Regulus not only their existence but also that of the Aux Atrum. They must have also explained to him their goals regarding the creation of the Vindico Atrum, as well as how they used Dark Lords for their plans. Therefore, I can only deduce that Regulus was told about the Dark Lord's horcruxes. Perhaps he was even ordered to seek them-"

"No," interrupted Orion quietly, slowly shaking his head while his mind buzzed with thoughts. "Regulus wasn't openly told about the horcruxes. He merely found one by mistake…" He deeply frowned. "Yet, it couldn't have been a mistake at all… I was looking for something in Voldemort's treasured possessions, that's how I found the diary... You see, a diary was one of Voldemort's horcruxes, though it isn't any longer, it was used and destroyed long ago… But I – Regulus didn't know what the diary was at first, until he researched it and finally discovered what a horcrux was... After knowing that what I had found was a horcrux, I realized that there had to be more. And I wanted to at least find one, and destroy it. And I did find another horcrux, one that I could destroy since it wasn't in Voldemort's possession. Yet, I didn't have the time for it - Regulus didn't have the time for it. Voldemort discovered that I – that Regulus had seen the diary and Regulus was tortured and forced to confess that he knew what it was. Then, Voldemort proceeded with the real torture… and…" His jaw clenched, and he gritted out, "Then I, Regulus, killed myself before enduring more. But the crux of the matter is that the Spirits must have told Regulus to search for something in Voldemort's possessions. They obviously didn't tell him what a horcrux was, but they certainly described it vaguely. The Spirits must have wanted to have one or several horcruxes in their grasp, to be ready to hand them to a powerful VA candidate when such appeared. So that the Dark Lord could be swiftly killed by the candidate and so that Voldemort's dark magic would go into him."

Orion paused, and jerkily carded his fingers through his hair, while he muttered, "Yes, that's what happened. Yet I don't understand how I – damn it!- how Regulus could have been convinced by the Spirits. They didn't tell him exactly what he had to look for, but he must have known that it was something that could be used against Voldemort-"

"Orion," interjected Vagnarov quietly, his features grieved, "it's fair to assume that Regulus wanted to destroy the Dark Lord. It was no secret that the Dark Lord treated him harshly. That Regulus was nothing more than a pet to him. Regulus must have wanted to destroy this horcrux you speak about – the one he found and which wasn't in Voldemort's possession. Regulus must have wanted to destroy it for revenge."

"Yes, but there has to be some other reason," said Orion grimacing. "You don't understand, Vulcan. As pathetic as it sounds, Regulus loved Voldemort, despite the abuse. I felt it. Regulus loved him. Voldemort was - as twisted as it is- like a father, brother, mentor and friend to Regulus – all those figures in his life that he had lost. The Dark Lord was the first one who seemingly took him seriously, who gave him attention and affection – occasionally. Regulus was…I was pathetic…" He paused, and deeply frowned. "No, I wasn't pathetic. Not in the end. I didn't die pathetically, Vulcan. I died feeling resolved in my actions. Feeling a weird kind of hope… I felt truly important… My suicide not merely something to achieve oblivion, but one more step towards something greater…"

He gasped, and stared at Vagnarov, aghast. "When did you tell him that 'Death was only the beginning'?"

"Just before he left Dursmtrang, after the Spirits spoke to him," replied Vagnarov, with a troubled and pensive frown on his face. "Actually, I was ordered by the Spirits to tell him that. And I saw Regulus' determination hardening, though I didn't understand why that phrase must have been significant to him – he knew nothing about Necromancy, he didn't have the abilities. Yet, that phrase was the last thing I said to him, and I never saw him again." He pierced Orion with his eyes, his frown deepening. "I know what you must be thinking, but it's not possible, my boy."

"How would you know?" bit out Orion agitatedly. "Regulus' soul reincarnated in me – a VA candidate! And 'Death is only the beginning' was one of the last things he said before killing himself, Vulcan. The Spirits must have told Regulus what he could become in his next life. The Spirits must be the ones who have been manipulating the way my soul reincarnates-"

"They cannot be," interrupted Vagnarov gravely, piercing him with his eyes. "Morgana and Mordred were astoundingly powerful when they were alive, but their Spirits are not. It has been centuries since the only kind of magic they can yield is mind-magic. And there's no being –no matter how powerful- who can influence the way souls are reborn. It's simply not possible."

"But the pattern of my rebirths cannot be coincidental," insisted Orion, with a hard gleam in his eyes. "The pattern is clear and steady. Furthermore, why would Regulus say that Death was only the beginning? He must have known-"

"The only thing Regulus knew is what the Spirits told him," interjected Vagnarov sternly, boring his eyes into Orion's. "And there's no doubt in my mind that the Spirits are unable to manipulate how your soul is reincarnated. Therefore, the only thing you can suspect is that the Spirits made Regulus believe that he would reincarnate into someone powerful, but that's it. It was a mere manipulation, an empty promise, since the Spirits –or anyone else- have no way of influencing rebirths."

Orion's jaw clenched, and he gritted out, "Fine, I believe you. But it's obvious that the Spirits must know why my reincarnations follow a pattern. Moreover, as you said, they filled Regulus with lies about future power in the next life. Lies, since the Spirits couldn't have been certain that he would be reborn into me, a VA candidate. Yet, Regulus must have believed them, that's why he felt triumphant when he killed himself. That's why he told Voldemort that someday he would realize that he had been bested by him, because Regulus believed that he would be a VA candidate in a next life. The Spirits must have told him how a VA candidate has to kill Dark Lords in order to garner more power to undergo the Vindico test."

"Yes, I think you're right," said Vagnarov calmly. He pierced him with his eyes, and said pensively, "And if your soul is truly following a fixed pattern, then the Spirits might know the reason for it, though they cannot be the ones influencing it. You should talk to them. Go to the Crypt and ask them-"

"I will not," spat Orion angrily, balling his hands into fists. "They've manipulated me enough times. I won't listen to anything they have to say. If I see them now I'll kill them, and I need them for a bit longer. They are the ones who have to tell me what I need to do with the Hallows, once I finally obtain the last one. Moreover, they never tell me anything. They always make me talk, and they merely guide our conversations with more questions, leading me to what they want me to discover. I won't play that game with them again. I don't need them for this. I'll get my answers, eventually – I always do."

"I understand," said Vagnarov sympathetically, before he heavily sighed. "Very well. I'll research the matter regarding patterns in reincarnations. Though, I'm almost certain that I will find nothing. Even the Guild believes that rebirths do not follow any patterns, my boy. But I'll look into it and I'll let you know if I find something pertinent."

"Thanks," muttered Orion.

Vagnarov curtly nodded, before he slowly went around his desk and reached Orion, towering over him. "Now, I think I should try to block this new awareness of yours. I cannot promise I'll succeed, but I'll do my best. Please stand up."

"Do whatever is needed to block the memories of my past lives, Vulcan," said Orion quietly, as he obeyed and stood in front of the old wizard.

"I will," whispered Vagnarov, instants before his eyes turned into all-black glowing pools, as he pressed his hands over Orion's head and fixedly bore his eyes into his. "Legilimens!"

The old wizard's wandless spell immediately took effect, and Orion felt as if his mind was being explored by a careful and gentle touch, prodding here and there, while his emerald gaze remained locked with his Headmaster's all-black, unblinking stare.

A faint frown spread over the aged features, and Vagnarov muttered in a distant voice, "I think I see something unusual… Ah… No, this has to be your connection to the Dark Lord… Um, I see… troublesome… yet you must know about this already… you've been keeping quite a secret to yourself… Ah, yes… there's something else…" His frown deepened. "Interesting… peculiar… it seems like a swirl of a tunnel into your mind… composed by Necromantic magic, no doubt about it… I'll try to… steel yourself, my boy, this won't be pleasant…"

Immediately, Orion clenched his jaw when he felt a piercing stab prodding the back of his mind, while he saw a glow of black light flowing from Vagnarov's hands, surrounding Orion's head. The pain increased and he saw beads of sweat tricklhad ing down the old wizard's forehead, as the man muttered spells under his breath. And abruptly, Orion's vision faded into darkness, before he felt images and feelings bubbling and spreading in his mind, as he distantly realized that Vagnarov had indeed found the connection between his soul and mind…

…He was tied to a wooden post, mobs of muggles yelling at him in fear, hatred, and frenzied anger… flames started blazing in the pyre he was tied to, the fire licking his small, bare feet, the pain agonizing as his flesh started to be scorched, while he mindlessly sobbed and screamed, frantically looking for his mother, knowing that the muggles must have already killed her… in the mob, among the cruelly fascinated faces, he saw the little muggle girl he had liked… the one he had wanted to impress by conjuring a small flower and giving it to her, before she had gazed at him in horror and ran away, screaming…

…He wasn't a small boy any longer… no, he was someone different… a teenager or older, yet powerful… his stance confident, his steps resolved, and his chest bristling with hatred… He reached the older man and gazed into his regal, handsome and benevolent features, hating the gleam of wisdom, nobility and superiority in the light hazel eyes… so unlike his own, yet the man was his father… He ignored everyone else, though he knew the crowds were restless and alert… he ignored his mother and his aunts, and tightly embraced his father… the man instantly tensed, yet he caressed the man's long locks of dark blond hair and he whispered warmly, "Father"… He felt the rejection coming from the man… He was being rejected again for being dark, ambitious, and ruthless, and his hatred became fierce and uncontrolled, swallowing any sorrow and hint of regret he might have felt… He should be the true King, not this pathetic man before him… but he was the King's bastard, not even worthy of being the Prince, in their opinion… He knew what they thought of him, and he hated all of them, with blazing fury… He tightened his embrace, almost crushing his father against him, and murmured "Father" again, affectionately, while he swiftly unsheathed his poisoned dagger and stabbed it into his father's stomach, repeatedly… It was chaos, they were being hunted by the mobs and warriors, yet he felt euphoric… he had done it, he had killed his unworthy father… His mother was running besides him, protecting him, yet he hated her as well… he could see in her gaunt face the pain she felt, the way she mourned his father's death... yes, she had loved his father but she had known that the man had to be killed… She didn't reproach him for murdering his father, she had known he would do it, but still, she mourned the death of the man she had twistedly loved… Pathetic, she was unworthy too, despite her power… And that hated bitch had escaped… his mother was supposed to have killed her, they both hated her… yet, she had escaped… he would find her and murder her soon, she couldn't escape them for long… but now, they had to flee, somewhere, anywhere…

…But then came pain… an arrow had speared his shoulder… the pain was agony… he frenziedly screamed… It was pure agony… Yet, he distantly realized that the agony was fresh… it was happening now, and he realized his throat ached… he was screaming…

And Orion kept screaming until it all faded back into blackness…

* * *

"Ennervate!"

Orion gasped an exhalation of breath, his eyes snapped open and he dizzily glanced around, confused, while his head throbbed painfully. He winced and gritted his teeth, and finally realized that he was lying on the floor of Vagnarov's office. Instantly, his gaze zeroed in on the old wizard. The man was slumped on an armchair, the aged face drained of color, his expression exhausted and pained, the eyes closed, and there were splats of blood on the wizard's lips and chin.

He instantly jumped to his feet, alarmed, though he had to rest a hand on the desk to steady himself, since his legs felt weak and his pounding head swirled with dizziness.

"Vulcan?" whispered Orion in a hoarse, haggard voice, while he gently shook the old wizard's shoulders.

Vagnarov slowly opened his eyes, and shot him a wan smirk. "I'm alright, my boy. Merely resting."

"I shouldn't have asked for your help," muttered Orion, eyeing him with deep concern. "You coughed up blood again. I knew you weren't well. I shouldn't have made you-"

"You didn't force me to do anything," interrupted Vagnarov calmly, as he shifted in his seat and straightened his shoulders. "And my health shouldn't concern you. It's as well as it could be expected for someone near Death's doorway." His smirk widened, and he added, "Death isn't something to be mourned, and I don't want you to mourn mine, when it comes."

Orion wanly smiled at him, forcing his cheeks' muscles into the carefree expression. "Alright."

"How do you feel?" asked Vagnarov, inspecting him closely.

Orion blinked, before he touched his forehead, and said with a hint of awe, "Light. I feel as if a heavy lid had been lifted from my mind." He stared at the old man, and gasped out cheerfully, "You succeeded! Thanks-"

"Don't thank me yet," interrupted Vagnarov curtly. "I couldn't sever the link the High One formed in your mind. It was a link between your soul and mind, I believe. Very strange. I never saw something like it. Nevertheless, I couldn't snap it. I merely blocked it."

"What does that mean for me?" said Orion troubled. "Will I still experience my past lives? Or-"

"You won't be assaulted by your past memories anymore," interjected Vagnarov gravely. "Not for a while, at least. Yet I can't ascertain how long my block will hold. Maybe for the rest of your life. Maybe not. I formed it as powerfully as I could, yet some influences could tear the block away. If you want it to hold, you must make sure that no Necromancer or Legilimens fiddles with it. Hopefully, the block will hold for many years to come."

"Well, that's good enough," said Orion happily, feeling deeply relieved and in a buoyant good mood. "Thanks, Vulcan. I knew you'd be able to help me."

Vagnarov waved a hand dismissively while he stood up with difficulty, and Orion lend him a supporting hand to steady the man in place, as he led the old wizard back into his ornate armchair.

Once the old wizard was settled back behind his desk, Orion eyed him with curiosity. "What did you use to form the block?"

"Mind magic and my Necromantic powers."

"You said Cadmus had formed a link between my mind and soul," said Orion eagerly. "Does that mean that you casted a spell to see my soul, in order to block the link?"

"No, due to my declining health I'm not strong enough to cast such spell," replied Vagnarov tiredly. "And I didn't need to see your soul to find the link. Legilimency was enough."

"Oh," grumbled Orion with disappointment.

He knew that the spell Necromancers used to see a soul inside a living wizard was a very powerful one, and magically draining, thus, that they didn't use it often. But he was curious about the state of his soul. And since he couldn't cast the spell on himself, and not even fully see his own soul with the use of the Resurrection Stone, he had hoped that Vagnarov would have seen his soul. He was curious to know if it was any different from a normal one, since he had taken some essence from Draco's soul.

"Speaking about links," said Vagnarov sternly, pointedly staring at him, "I found another link first."

Orion arched an eyebrow, and said nonchalantly, "Yeah, I heard your mutterings."

"You are a horcrux," stated Vagnarov curtly, piercing him with his eyes. "Voldemort's horcrux."

"I am," said Orion impassively. "And don't ask why I didn't tell you. I haven't told any Aux Atrum about it. Only my father, Grindelwald, and other two trustworthy wizards know it – Severus Snape and Remus Lupin, you must have heard about them. And Dumbledore knows it as well, but not because I told him. He figured it out himself. Though, obviously, the manipulative old coot hasn't revealed it to me."

"I understand quite a few things now," muttered Vagnarov, with a pensive frown on his face. "I understand how you knew about Igor Karkaroff's death. You came to me years ago, confiding to me that the Dark Lord had tortured and killed him, also divulging what Igor had said as his last words." His gaze snapped up to Orion. "You can see through Voldemort's eyes, can you? It's a side effect from being his horcrux. That's also how, in the past, you've known about Death Eater activities."

"Yes, I sometimes have flashes of visions about what he's doing," said Orion calmly. "Not lately, though, because I always have my Occlumency barriers raised at full-power." He pierced the old man with his eyes, and said sharply, "But you can't say a word about it, Vulcan. I don't want the Aux to know that I'm a horcrux. I didn't even tell Sebastien when he disclosed to me that the Spirits had told him and Komorov about Voldemort's horcruxes."

"I will tell no one," said Vagnarov firmly, gazing at him a stern gleam in his aged, black eyes. "But how are you planning on ridding yourself from the Dark Lord's piece of soul before you kill him?"

Orion plopped down on the armchair on the other side of the wizard's desk, and said crisply, "Easy. As I have told you repeatedly, I'm not planning on killing the Dark Lord. I have no personal reason for it, and only a personal reason would make me do it. Thus, I'm not planning on ridding myself from the piece of soul. Moreover, it can't be done. The only way to destroy the horcrux inside me is to kill me." He wryly smiled at the man. "Grindelwald theorizes that perhaps I could survive death because I'm a horcrux with Necromantic abilities. And also because I survived the Avada Kedavra Curse when I was a baby, since my dark magic protected me. Nevertheless, I don't know what the Killing Curse might do to me now – whether the piece of soul inside me would be destroyed and I would live, or if I would simply die along with it. Whatever the case, I'm obviously not eager to test it."

Vagnarov tiredly sighed, and said reluctantly, "Very well, my boy. I won't argue about your decisions any more. I'm sure you have enough of that from everyone else. You know what you're doing."

"I am," said Orion cheerfully.

"However," interjected Vagnarov gravely, piercing him with his dark eyes. "Don't believe that the Spirits don't know that you're Voldemort's horcrux. According to you, they have known about the horcruxes since the beginning. According to you, they ordered Slughorn to compel Voldemort when the Dark Lord was a young schoolboy. Therefore, the Spirits must have realized by now that you're one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes. Yet, they still expect you to fully kill him. Therefore, there must be a way for you to rid yourself from the piece of soul inside you, without dying."

Orion frowned at him. "Yes, Grindelwald said that the Spirits would eventually realize that I'm a horcrux. But he also said that they would be very angry."

"Indeed they would," said Vagnarov, smirking at him. "And I'm surprised that they haven't requested a meeting with you. The Spirits aren't omniscient and omnipotent, but they are astoundingly sharp and sly. They must know by now that you're a horcrux. But, on the other hand, you stated to them, quite firmly and angrily, that you were going to take an independent path from them to become the Vindico. Thus, I think they are leaving you alone for now, to see how you manage. And as we previously agreed, I told them, after receiving your letter, that you had succeeded in unblocking the Resurrection Stone from the Dark Lord's piece of soul, and that you bested the High One and resurrected your father. They were… quite satisfied, to put it mildly."

"Good," said Orion, smirking back at him. "I want them to crawl back to me, beginning me to hear them out. I will immensely enjoy it, before I finally kill them."

"Kill them?" inquired Vagnarov with an arched eyebrow. "I know that Valois told you that the Spirits-"

"Yeah, yeah," interrupted Orion, waving a hand dismissively. "That the Spirits want to make their grand appearance before the masses. Showing their existence and reveling all their work, before stating that a Vindico had at last risen. And the Spirits will do that, and thus show their support of me and hail me as the Dark's legendary prophet, once they're certain that I can survive the Vindico test. Meaning, once I have all the Hallows and once I've killed all current Dark Lords to absorb their powers. That's fine by me. It serves my purposes. And once I've killed Grindelwald and have the Elder Wand in my possession, I'll go see the Spirits so we can plan their magnificent spectacle before the masses." He deviously smirked at him. "After that -after I'm hailed as the Vindico Atrum by them, and after they tell me what the VA test is- I will kill them."

Vagnarov intently pierced him with his eyes. "So you'll spare one Dark Lord, Voldemort, and kill the other, Grindelwald. Moreover, you'll become a full-fledged Necromancer in order to obtain the power you don't want to gain by killing Voldemort. Am I correct?"

"Yes, precisely," replied Orion coolly. "It's a good plan, is it not?"

"It's neither good or bad – it's simply your plan, and all what matters is if it will work," said Vagnarov gravely, scrutinizing him. "And also, if you won't regret the consequences. I won't tell you again how you'll be changed after becoming a full-fledged Necromancer. You know that already."

"I do," said Orion nonchalantly. He eyed the old man closely, and asked with curiosity, "You're a very powerful dark wizard, Vulcan. Tell me, did you ever feel your dark magic spurring you further? Did you ever feel what I have pegged as the 'pull'?"

"Certainly," replied Vagnarov, arching an eyebrow. "All powerful dark wizards feel it. Furthermore, it was the reason why I went to the Guild, to train to become a full-fledged Necromancer."

Orion frowned at him. "But you left the Guild before completing your training. You mustn't have undergone their trials."

"Exactly," said Vagnarov impassively. "I didn't become a full-fledged Necromancer because I realized I didn't want it. And also, because my pull, as you call it, became muted. My dark magic seemed contently settled inside me after the training I underwent, even if I didn't finish it."

"The Guild's training abated your pull, satisfying it?" interjected Orion, his eyes widening. He leaned forward, and said excitedly, "So maybe the same will happen to me-"

"It won't," interrupted Vagnarov with a deep sigh. "I was never a VA candidate. You are. Your pull must, therefore, be stronger."

"Hmm, yeah, I suppose it is," muttered Orion, leaning back on his seat.

"Are you really committed to become the Vindico?"

Orion blinked at him, before he said with annoyance, "Of course. I thought I had already proved that, repeatedly. Even if I don't want to kill Voldemort."

"Is it because of the power you'll gain?" interjected Vagnarov, dismissing Orion's reply and inspecting him closely. "Don't think that I haven't sensed the changes in you. You covet power now, my boy. And that's always a very dangerous thing for dark wizards. Indeed, for light wizards as well. In the past, you didn't thirst for power-"

"Yes, I've changed," interrupted Orion with irritation. "I want to become more powerful than anyone else. But that doesn't mean that my reasons for wanting to become the Vindico have changed completely. They haven't. I still want to protect my friends and family. I still want to ensure that the war will be brief, with few casualties for our side. And I still want to make sure that the dark bloodlines will become purer and thus more powerful. That we won't breed with muggles and muggleborns, and that our dark magic won't dwindle because of it. I still want to help the Dark become stronger, politically and magically. I don't want the Dark Arts to be considered evil knowledge, and I don't want dark wizards to hide in their homes and in schools like this one in order to practice it. I don't want light wizards to keep prosecuting those who openly use and uphold the Dark Arts, in seemingly evil ways in the Light's opinion. I don't want Aurors to keep hunting us down. I want to destroy the stigma of evil that we, dark wizards, have. I want the Light to know about the consequences of mixing their lines with muggles and muggleborns. I want them to understand what Salazar Slytherin did and discovered. And I want Light and Dark magic to survive all future centuries of breeding." He locked his gaze with the old wizard's, and said sharply, "All of those desires haven't changed, and the means for it is for me to become the Vindico. Its importance is very present and clear to me. I don't hunger power for the sake of power. I hunger it due to all the consequential and necessary things I could do with it."

"Good," said Vagnarov curtly, his lips quirking upwards in small smile. "Keep all those reasons fresh in your mind, and never allow yourself to be corrupted by power. It happens to the best of us, Orion. And the consequences are never positive."

"I'll always remember, don't worry," said Orion coolly.

"Very well, now I think you should go to your common room," said Vagnarov, smirking while he stared at him pointedly. "The members of your Dark Army have been buzzing with gossip all this week. After your letters to Miss Titania Tenleyn and Miss Calypso Rosier, the news regarding how you resurrected your father has awed your DA. You'll find them very excited to see you again."

Orion grinned at him. "Perfect. I have to discuss some matters with them."

He shot the old wizard a last grateful smile, before he grasped his school bag, nodded at him in farewell, and eagerly left the office.

* * *

Orion soon discovered that his Headmaster had been right. The moment he hurled himself into the sixth years' common room, he found students of the different Orders congregated there; some gossiping with friends, others discussing their plans for Saturday, a few finishing late Friday-night homework to have their weekend free, and such. More importantly, there was small group bunched together, animatedly whispering among themselves. And he inspected that group from afar, before letting them know that he was there.

Titania, though graduated and an apprentice of the Dark Arts under Professor Romulus Rosier, was there, seated on a couch. Viktor Vlonski was spread along the couch, with his head on his girlfriend's lap, while Titania caressed his locks of blonde hair. To his surprise, Calypso was seated near Titania, deep in conversation with her. And apparently discussing very important matters, since Calypso glared with irritation at Viktor when the young wizard occasionally distracted Titania by trying to smuggle a hand under his girlfriend's shirt.

Scattered among them were the rest of the DA's Elite, even though some were fifth or seventh year students, not to mention from different Orders. Nevertheless, it seemed that the tightly-knit group had gathered all together in the sixth years' common room. Wenceslas, Artemisa and Kasimir were seated besides the fireplace, on a couch across from the one of occupied by Titania and Viktor. While Geodrof, Dravana, Alexios, Laiana and Hector were sitting on the floor, with their backs supported against either couches. All of them were participating in the conversation going on between Calypso and Titania. Moreover, to Orion's increasing surprise, Evander Fornax and Kara Kavsir were also with them, even though he had never mentioned to the couple anything about the DA group.

Stealthily, he approached them, while he saw other non-DA students occasionally turning their heads around to glance at him, surely surprised that he had dropped in a Friday night instead of a Saturday morning, as usual. Not far from them, Orion detected that the Elite must have casted silencing and anti-spying spells around them, since he couldn't hear anything. So he took some more steps and surreptitiously flicked his wand to momentarily halt the spells. Instantly, their voices reached his ears.

"It's just not fair," Viktor complained from his position on the couch, as Titania swatted his hand away from underneath her shirt. "If I can't paw all over my girlfriend on a Friday night, then what I am supposed to do? A wizard needs his entertainment and fun, and you are all a boring lot." He cheekily grinned at Titania. "Except you, luv."

Titania merely glanced down at him with irritated yet fond amusement, as Viktor tried once more to slip a hand under her clothes.

"You could get serious and join our discussion," hissed out Calypso, looking highly annoyed. "Instead of sexually harassing your girlfriend in public. There's something called decorum, Vic."

Viktor lifted his head from Titania's lap to stare at her, and snorted. "All you do is yap and yap about Orion. Yes, what he accomplished is mind-boggling and awesome but all your speculations are useless. And I don't see why you're suddenly back in our fold, wanting to plan our next steps. You've made yourself scarce during this year. You stopped attending our DA lessons. So you are in no position to voice your opinions regarding the DA. And you should wait for the man himself to come tomorrow morning-"

"The man himself is here," said Orion with amusement, as he finally stepped before them.

As if pulled by invisible strings, all their heads snapped up at the same time to stare at him.

"Orion!" cried Calypso excitedly, rushing to his side.

Abruptly, she halted a pace away from him, looking uneasy. And Orion confusedly frowned at her when she didn't immediately hug him, as he had expected. Granted, she hadn't hugged him in a very long time, nor allowed him to hug her, but he had expected that she would have been more openly friendly after the letters they had sent to each other.

"I'm so glad you're here," she gushed out, while she leaned forward to peck his cheek, still leaving a space between them and looking uncomfortable. "We have many things to tell you."

"What in Circe's name are you doing here?" said Geodrof gruffly, his massive body shifting on the floor to glance up at him. "Aren't you supposed to be in that pathetic school for bloodtraitors and muggle-lovers?"

"What does that matter," quipped in Calypso happily, instantly grabbing Orion's hand and pulling him down to a seat besides her. "It's obvious that he decided to come sooner." She shot Orion a smile, and added warmly, "And we've been dying to have you here. There are so many-"

"Yes, we have many things to tell him – you've already said that," interjected Artemisa in her faintly Spanish-accented voice, glancing at Calypso with irritation. She gazed back at him with her almond-shaped eyes, her plump lips curving into a dazzling, seductive smile, as she said, "But it is indeed good to have you earlier than expected, Orion."

He returned the smile and simply nodded at her, since he saw Calypso darkly scowling at the witch. Well, so Calypso and Artemisa still didn't get along. No surprise there. It was certainly not due to any jealously or envy from either part; both witches were very beautiful. It was simply that their personalities and manners clashed. Though it had been a while since he hadn't seen them snapping at each other.

Wenceslas pierced him with his sharp blue eyes, and swatted a lock of light blonde hair from his forehead, as he said, "Many things have been going on in the school-"

"Yeah," interrupted Viktor, straightening up from his position on Titania's lap. "Do you know that Loki Njord has left school?"

Orion raised an eyebrow, and instantly flicked his wand to fortify the silencing spells around them. "I did. I saw him earlier today. Though I wasn't aware that he had told you-"

"He didn't," scoffed Viktor. "The Headmaster told us." He frowned at him. "And you say that you saw him today? According to Headmaster Vagnarov, Loki became a Necromancer and he isn't coming back to school. I always said he was always a weird one; slouching around in his black cloak, covering every inch of his body, scowling and skipping classes. Though I didn't know he was so advanced in your Necromancy class-"

"He didn't become a Necromancer thanks to Vagnarov's class," interjected Orion. "He… well, you could say that Loki's father helped him become a full-fledged Necromancer. And you're right, he isn't coming back."

"Just great," groaned Viktor grumpily. "There's only three of us, sixth year Hydras, left now! With Lez dead long ago and Loki gone away-"

"Er…" said Orion hesitantly, glancing around the group. He gazed back at Viktor, and muttered quietly, "Lezander isn't dead."

"What?!" gasped out three voices at the same time. Viktor had instantly jumped to his feet, Evander was staring at him, perplexed, and Kara's delicate features wore an expression of hurt, while she pinned him with her light blue eyes.

The others, the Elite, seemed surprised but their reactions were mild, since they had never known Lezander well. They only fleetingly knew that he had been Lezander's boyfriend, before Lezander had supposedly died at the English Department of Mysteries.

Of course, there was no surprise reflected on Calypso's face, and Viktor's hazel eyes instantly narrowed at her, and he pointed a finger accusingly. "You knew, didn't you? How's this possible?!…You knew and didn't tell us, Calypso!" He rounded on Orion, and snapped angrily, "And you're the one who should have told us! Why did you lie to us? You let us believe that Lez had died in that Veil thing. I mourned him-"

"_You_ mourned Lezander?" interrupted Calypso crisply.

"Of course I did!" bit out Viktor sharply, gesturing at himself, Orion, Calypso, Evander and Kara. "Lez was our best friend, one of us!"

"I'm not quite sure what to make of this," said Kara in clipped tones, piercing Orion and Calypso with her blue eyes. "But you should have told us that he was alive."

"It was Orion's right to decide whether to tell you or not," interjected Calypso coolly. "And I certainly wasn't going to divulge it before he did." She side-glanced at Orion, and continued, "Though I'm glad he finally did. Nevertheless, Orion didn't mislead you on purpose. We thought that Lezander had died-"

"Then why are we being told now that Lez is alive?" snapped Evander, fiercely scowling at Orion and Calypso. "You two told us that Lez had died when you went to the Department of Mysteries of the English Ministry of Magic. That Orion tried to save him by pulling him out from the Veil thing, but that he only pulled out Lez's dead body. The whole of Durmstrang thought that Lez had died, though they didn't know the details since you only told us the specifics. So do explain to us how, suddenly, Lezander is alive!"

"He was alive all along," said Orion quietly, gazing at the three of them. "But neither Calypso or I knew about it. I had pulled out his body, with his soul attached, yet his heartbeat was very faint and he wouldn't wake up. I took him to his parents and they were the ones who told me he had died." His jaw clenched, and he added sourly, "It didn't even cross my mind to doubt them. So when I told you that Lez had died, I truly believed it. It was months after that I discovered that he was alive when I visited his parents."

"So you did save him," muttered Kara under her breath, her eyes widening. "With your Necromantic powers, right? Just in the same way as you have resurrected your father-"

"Not quite," interrupted Orion, carding his fingers through his hair. "What I did with my father was planned in detail, yet back then, a year ago, I only saved Lezander out of sheer luck. Yes, I used my Necromantic powers to pull him out of the Veil, but I wasn't in control, and I did it unwittingly, not quite knowing what I was doing. Nevertheless, it worked. But I didn't find out until much later."

"Alright, but that doesn't excuse that you didn't tell us the instant you found out!" snapped Viktor sharply. "And why on earth isn't he here with us?! Why didn't he come back?"

"Lez didn't remember us," interjected Calypso briskly, glaring at the young wizard. "When Lezander saw Orion for the first and only time after the Department of Mysteries fiasco, Lez didn't remember his life. He only barely remembered Orion, and that was because he was staring right at him."

Orion nodded when the three of them piercingly gazed at him. "Calypso wasn't there but I told her about it. Lezander had been living in Zraven Citadel for a while, and I think he mostly remembered his life with his parents, but not his school years with us. But he did remember me – somewhat. But he was confused and puzzled… Lez had been…er…" He cleared his throat, and intently stared at them. "Well, Lez had been having vague dreams about me, so I guess that helped him remember me. But he certainly didn't remember much about you guys or Durmstrang."

"Fine," gritted out Viktor. "It's clear that it was an after-effect of being plunged into that Veil thing. But why didn't you bring back Lezander? He could have remembered if he saw us! And it's been over a year now, for Merlin's sake-"

"I didn't bring him," interrupted Orion in a steely tone of voice, "because he wasn't ready. I left him with his parents and told his mother to tell him everything about his life. Lezander is a vampire first and foremost, even if he's also a dark wizard, and he needed to be with his own people-"

"Bullshit!" bit out Viktor bristling, narrowing his hazel eyes at him. "You didn't want Lez back because you became the Dark Lord's spouse! What kind of a boyfriend are you that you left Lez there, without-"

"Don't you DARE blame Orion!" yelled Calypso angrily, furiously glaring at Viktor. "What kind of friend are YOU that you blame Orion for something that was out of his hands? Isn't it enough that Orion saved Lezander, that he grieved while thinking that Lez was dead, just to find out that those Zravens had lied to him!"

Viktor instantly rounded on her, as he said acidly, "I am Orion's friend, but also Lez's, and that's more than I can say about you! Don't spout to me about friendship when you haven't crossed words with Orion or any of us for months – when you constantly shy away from us! What excuse do you have?!"

"I have my reasons!" spat Calypso heatedly, glowering at him. "And you are not going to change subjects. Orion did what he thought was best. And when he saw Lezander, discovering that he was alive, Orion was about to marry the Dark Lord. So you can't expect Orion to have gone back to Lezander. They weren't a couple anymore-"

"I don't care two figs if Orion was or wasn't about to bond with the Dark Lord," snarled Viktor, darkly glaring at her. "I don't give a flying gnat about the Dark Lord. I care about my friend - Lez! And so should you. It's clear that Lez was an inconvenience for Orion, so he was simply left behind!"

Calypso immediately made a move to whip out her wand, her expression truly thunderous, and when Orion saw it, he quickly jumped between them, and said severely, "This is getting us nowhere – calm down, NOW!"

Titania instantly forced Viktor to take a seat, as Orion pulled down Calypso on a couch, besides him, while the rest were merely gazing at them, with slightly wide eyes or frowns on their faces.

"Look," said Orion quietly, staring at Viktor, Evander and Kara. "I didn't tell you because I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to face Lezander either, because I wanted to marry Voldemort. Furthermore, I asked Lez's mother to keep him in the Citadel, and to stop Lez if he tried to contact me or see me. But I also knew that the Zravens wouldn't allow Lez to come back to Durmstrang. Lezander is being trained to take his father's place. The Zravens have always wanted this, and they grasped the opportunity to keep Lezander with them. Amongst other reasons, I think this is why they told me that Lez had died. Though, Mireilla, Lez's mother, did want to tell me the truth. Nevertheless, I'm telling you now that Lezander is alive because it's the proper time to do so." He eyed them closely, and added, "I'm going to see him during the summer. I'm going to stay at Zraven Citadel for a month or two."

"To solidify your allegiance with them, right?" said Titania, studying him with her chestnut eyes.

Orion mutely nodded.

"Gut, that's settled then," interjected Dravana curtly, sternly piercing the group with her deep, dark eyes. "Let's get back to more important business-"

"Not yet, Vana," snapped Viktor, narrowing his eyes at Orion. "I want to know if Lezander is coming back for seventh year. I want to know if I'm going to see him again!"

"I don't think he'll come back to Durmstrang," replied Orion calmly. "I hope he remembers everything by now, and I'm sure Mireilla has helped him with it, but Râzvan certainly won't let Lez come back into a wizarding school. Lezander is being groomed to take Râzvan's place, I already told you that." He deeply sighed. "But if you want to see him, then I guess I could arrange it after summer."

"Then do it," snarled Viktor angrily.

"Watch your tone," bit out Calypso, narrowing her large, black eyes at him. "You'll do well to remember that Orion is your leader!"

"Leader?!" hissed out Viktor bristling, before he pointed an accusing finger at Orion. "A leader doesn't lie to his followers! A leader doesn't keep secrets from them-"

Kasimir let out a loud snort, his sharp, aristocratic features twisting into a mocking expression. "Of course they do, Vlonski. And it's their prerogative to do so. Why should Orion disclose everything to you? I would have been disappointed if he did." He shot Orion a smirk, and drawled, "A leader manages information as he sees fit, and certainly not to content their followers' hearts or to appease their minds. And let's not forget how very powerful our leader has proven to be." His smirk widened as he gazed smugly at the group. "Needless to say, that Orion's power and abilities are all what should matter to us, and not his personal life or decisions." He side-glanced at Viktor, and said snidely, "So let's stop chatting about this friend of yours. If you want to see the vampire, then go to the damned Citadel and stop wasting our time. As Vana said, we have more important issues to discuss."

"Fine, I will," grumbled Viktor darkly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Evander heavily sighed, glancing at Orion as he murmured, "I would have liked to know, before now, that Lezander was alive. I would have liked to have written to him. But I understand if you had your reasons. It mustn't have been easy for you."

"It wasn't," said Orion coolly, "but you can write to him still, if you want. I know a bloodspell which will instantly send your letters into his hands. So you can simply give me your letters, and I'll make sure he gets them."

"That's a good idea," quipped in Kara, affectionately caressing Evander's hair. "We'll write to Lez, and we'll see if he remembers us. Perhaps he'll invite us to stay a few days in his Citadel."

Orion nodded encouragingly, though he highly doubted that either of them, or Viktor, would be invited to Zraven Citadel. The Zravens only allowed those with their blood to stay there. Nevertheless, trying with letters wouldn't hurt.

Then he glanced at the couple with a slight frown on his face, as he said as tactfully as possible, "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing with … er… this lot?"

Evander arched an eyebrow, and said pointedly, "With the 'Elite', you mean?" He scowled at him, looking highly miffed. "You should have told us about this Dark Army of yours from the start. Why wasn't Kara and I invited to form part of it? Why were we the only ones, from our group of friends, to be excluded?"

"You and Kara are engaged," said Orion firmly. "You're going to get married as soon as you graduate next year. Therefore, I didn't want you to participate in things which might be dangerous for either of you. I never doubted your skills, but-"

"I see," interrupted Kara softly, shooting at him a warm smile. "I thank you for the concern and consideration, but it wasn't necessary. You know that we want to be involved in the war."

"You never did," said Orion pointedly.

Kara's smile grew, her light blue eyes lovingly gleaming as she side-glanced at Evander. "I do now. We both decided it was best to be involved rather than to stand on the sidelines and probably get murdered because we remained neutral."

"That's right," interjected Evander, nodding his head while he grasped Kara's hand in his. "Calypso told us about the DA and we discussed the matter between us and finally decided that we want to be part of it – of your Elite."

Orion threw Calypso a withering glance, and she instantly said hurriedly, looking troubled, "You don't understand, Orion. I know you wanted Evander and Kara out of it, but becoming part of the Elite is their best option." She pierced him with her eyes, and said gravely, "The Carrows came here, to Durmstrang, two days ago."

"Creepy, deranged pair of twins," muttered Viktor under his breath. "The witch even more unsettlingly perturbed that the wizard… with that sadistic, twisted, little smile of hers… one look at her and I almost ran screaming in the opposite direction…"

Orion stared at them, stunned. "The Carrows - here? Whatever for?"

"Yes, Alecto and Amycus Carrow," rushed out Calypso, her expression distressed. "I heard from my father that they 'asked' the Headmaster to hold a gathering here – a meeting to recruit followers for the Dark Lord. Headmaster Vagnarov couldn't refuse, because he can't openly say that he doesn't support the Dark Lord. Therefore, two days ago, all the students were congregated in the Great Hall, and the Carrows gave a speech about the importance of becoming a Death Eater – the honor to fight for the Dark Lord, the prestige of being one of his followers." She bit her lip, and finally blurted out, "Many students agreed to become Death Eaters soon - most of the students in sixth and seventh year, except those who are in the DA. Gustav Orloff was the first one to agree, and he was named by the Carrows to be the Dark Lord's liaison in Durmstrang. Stupid fool that he is, Orloff has taken it seriously, gloating and boasting about it, though he does his work and convinces others."

"Orloff?" bit out Orion, his eyes narrowing before he side-glanced at Titania and Kara. "The same who demanded that I had to be expelled from Durmstrang after it was made public that I was Harry Potter? The one you had to threaten with detention, Titania? Your Chimera classmate, Kara?"

"Yes, that's the one," replied Titania with a hard glint in her eyes, while Kara nodded at him.

"That's not all," interjected Calypso worriedly, intently gazing at him as if to gauge his reaction. "The instant the Carrows left, I wrote to Draco. I wanted to discover is something similar had happened in Hogwarts."

Orion waved a hand dismissively. "It didn't."

"It did," said Calypso firmly. "The Slytherins were told to gather Ravenclaws who were known for their Dark sympathies and connections, and both Houses, from fifth year upwards, went into the Forbidden Forest, two nights ago. There, some Death Eaters were waiting, and a meeting was held. Many Slytherins and Ravenclaws were recruited, though I don't know when they will be marked."

"How's this possible?" gasped out Orion, staring at her with slightly wide eyes, alarmed. "I never heard a word about this. Draco didn't tell me, and neither did Severus!"

"They couldn't," interjected Calypso quickly, "All of them were bounded by secrecy, even my father. Luckily, well…" She stared at him pointedly, and said vaguely, "Luckily my father has other loyalties solidified by vows which allowed him to circumvent the secrecy binding. And luckily, Snape helped Draco to write back to me with the truth. Draco wrote that he couldn't have done it without Snape's assistance. But they both knew that I would tell you, so it served their purposes."

"I can't believe it – and this happened two days ago… I just came back from seeing him!" snarled Orion furiously, feeling as if his blood was bubbling with rage, as all the pieces clicked together. "That conniving bastard planned it from the start – he was never going to give me chance! No matter what I did or said, he had already decided to break it between us! Oh, I didn't answer his summons for a week, but he could have waited to see me before recruiting in Slytherin, and before recruiting in my own bloody school – my turf!"

"What are you talking about?" said Alexios in his soft voice, though his expression was perplexed.

Orion ignored the question, and demanded brusquely, "Who has been recruited, Calypso?"

"Well…" she said hesitantly, before she clenched her jaw and said sternly, "From the people we know in Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bullstrode, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. But it's anyone guess when the Dark Lord will mark them. Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass want to remain neutral, but I'm not sure how they're going to accomplish it. Furthermore, from those who graduated, I've heard from my father that Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey have already received the Dark Mark. The Dark Lord is certainly heavily recruiting, getting ready for when the war truly erupts."

"And Gustav Orloff," bit out Orion angrily, "is making sure that plenty Durmstrang students will agree to receive the Dark Mark."

"It's not only a matter of agreeing," interjected Viktor, his previous anger towards Orion having seemingly faded away. "Many of us have been pressured by our parents to take the Dark Mark. You know that my father isn't a Death Eater, but he's a supporter of the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Venerian Vlonski," said Orion with a sharp nod. "I remember him."

"My father has written to me as well," said Evander, grasping tighter his girlfriend's hand. "And Kara's too. That's why we wanted to find an alternative solution to taking the Dark Mark. That's why Calypso told us about the DA, and we decided to become part of it."

"Your fathers…" muttered Orion, listing them out loud. "Yes, Xander Fornax and Konstantin Kavsir… I remember them from the winter season ball which was held in your Manor, Evander…"

Kara nodded, and she piped in, "A Death Eater also visited my cousin, wanting to recruit him. Remember my cousin, Viktor Krum?"

"Krum, dear Merlin, yes, of course I remember him," said Orion surprised. "He wanted to be Durmstrang's champion in the Triwizard Tournament. And he was a very good sport when the Goblet of Fire selected me instead. We formed a tentative friendship, but it's been ages since I've written to him. He graduated from Durmstrang over two years ago. What has he been doing?"

"He's the Seeker of Bulgaria's National Quidditch Team, as before. And he's also currently the star Seeker of the Montrose Magpies – the most successful team in history and twice European Champions," replied Kara dismissively. "But that's not my point. The Death Eater who approached him was very insistent – they want Viktor. My cousin is not particularly astounding in his magical prowess, so I think they want him for his fame. A sort of Death Eater poster boy."

"Did he agree?"

Kara delicately snorted. "Merlin, no. That line of my family, the Krums, have always been covert muggle-lovers and Light sympathizers." Her brow slightly wrinkled with a hint of worry. "Though I'm not sure what Viktor plans on doing. The Death Eaters will keep insisting and he'll keep refusing, and Viktor will be killed soon enough if he persists-"

"Krum, a dark wizard and famed international Seeker, a bloodtraitor," interjected Geodrof gruffly. "I don't know what our wizarding world is coming to."

"It's quite obvious what Krum'll do," interjected Calypso scathingly, utterly ignoring Geodrof's deep musings. "We saw him drooling after that upstart muggleborn, remember Orion? I still don't know what Krum saw in that Granger chit." She pointedly side-glanced at Orion. "As a matter of fact, I only accept that you've become 'friends' with her because I know that you're only trying to keep your cover as the Light's Savior. But it's patently obvious that Krum will end up going to Dumbledore to become a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Given Krum's Light-oriented ideals, it's the only alternative for him since the Death Eaters will keep pressuring him."

Wenceslas waved a hand impatiently. "Well, there's nothing we can do about that. And we don't want someone like Krum in our midst, so let's get to the point."

"Right," said Calypso firmly, piercing Orion with a worried gaze. "As I was explaining, many other DA members are in the same situation as Kara and Evander. Celeste, the Gorgon, is the daughter of Theobald Kormegov. And Crispin, the seventh year Chimera, is the son of Arthemius Arlov. And Algernon Wilkes' nephew is also in the DA – Wilhelm, the fifth year Hydra. And there are countless of other students, member or non-members of the DA, who have one parent, uncle, or relative who's a Death Eater or a political and financial supporter of the Dark Lord. And everyone is being forced to decide soon whether to take the Dark Mark or deal with the consequences. But we've been holding DA meetings this past two days, and all of DA members chose to remain with you. Not even one defected! You're abilities are already very well-known in the DA, and you have their respect and confidence." She shot him a sly smile, and said conspiratorially, "Not to mention that Titania and I let it slip that you had killed a Dementor and resurrected your father. That certainly made them respect you even more. You should have seen their faces – they were flabbergasted, awed, and practically couldn't string two words together! They kept babbling about it!"

"Good," said Orion sharply, remembering the cause of his blazing fury. "But that's not enough – Damn him!"

"Do I assume correctly by suspecting that you're damning the Dark Lord?" inquired Laiana in her melodic voice, piercing him with her pale green gaze.

"You assume correctly," replied Orion dryly, his emerald eyes flashing with anger.

Kamisir arched an eyebrow, and drawled flippantly, "Trouble in paradise for our Leader?"

"More than that," gritted out Orion, tightly clenching the arm of the couch he was seated on. He glanced at all of them, and said sharply, "Okay, I was going to tell you anyway, though I didn't expect that it would be today. I wanted to wait until tomorrow… but well, what's the point of dallying any longer… I've parted ways with the Dark Lord, just about an hour ago."

Many of their eyes slightly widened, a few paled, and others intently gazed at him, evidently thinking fast about the consequences, while Calypso gasped and Kara stared at him in dismay.

"Parted ways with the Dark Lord…" mumbled Calypso under her breath, gazing at him, aghast. "What do you mean by that?"

Orion scoffed, and said tartly, "It's evident, isn't it? The Dark Lord and I quarreled, things were said and done, and he broke it off with me."

"How can he break it off with you?" demanded Kara fiercely, her light blue eyes blazing in indignation and anger, in a show of temper that startled Orion, since her fiery nature had long been subdued by Evander's tender and warm love for her. "You're married to him – by a magical bond!"

"Not for long," said Orion dryly. "He told me he would sever the magical bond-"

"He can't!" blurted out Calypso, repeatedly shaking her head. "A magical bond like the one you have with him is not easily broken. And I don't believe he would do it. Why? No! I don't understand-"

Orion scoffed, and said crisply, "He can do it, and he will. Remember that I once thought about the way it could be done? Well, he has the same plan in mind. I'm sure he'll soon contact the five binders we used for the bonding ceremony, and you were one of them. So expect to be contacted soon-"

"I will refuse!" bit out Calypso, her expression thunderous. "I will not take part in the breaking of your marital bond with him."

"You will obey and do as he asks!" snapped Orion sharply. "He wants to be free of me and he'll bloody have it!"

Calypso stared at him with wide eyes, stunned and confused. "I don't understand, Orion. You want him to break your marital bond? Why – what happened between you? You argued? Then fix matters with him!"

"Fix matters?" said Orion bristling. He gazed at her, and said acidly, "He doesn't want to fix anything. He has been recruiting behind my back since two days ago, in my own bloody school - Durmstrang is mine, not his! Durmstrang is my home, my school, my turf, and my people. He can keep Hogwarts if he likes, but he shouldn't have messed with Durmstrang and he bloody well knows it. Regardless, he sent the Carrows here, before I even saw him!"

He let out a mirthless, sharp chuckle, and added briskly, "And yes, we argued, just an hour ago. Amongst other things because the Dementors attacked him after last weekend, since I was his spouse and I had killed the Dementors' leader. The Dementors broke their allegiance with him and attacked him in revenge, but he came out of it fine! Nevertheless, there were other issues between us, and I agreed when he said that he would sever our magical bond. So you will bloody do it, Calypso! There's no way to fix anything with Voldemort. He was already recruiting without telling me, before he gave me a chance to explain matters. I didn't answer his summons during the whole week, but he should have waited to see me before sending his minions to recruit in my school! He knows I want my own fellow students to become my supporters, and he acted beforehand, to steal from me those who should be my supporters and not his. He has Hogwarts and I have Durmstrang, that deal between us was implicit! No, there's no going back, and from now on I will consider myself unattached and single. And he'll soon break the bonding between us. I know him well enough to be certain that even if his words were hasty or said in anger, he won't retract them and change his decision. He would only lose face if he did so, and that's something that Voldemort would never do. No, we've absolutely parted ways. Now, I'm just his ally, independent from him, and that suits me just fine!"

He firmly clamped his mouth shut after his angry tirade, and gazed at his Elite. Most were staring at him with wide eyes, though some others were nodding at him, showing a modicum of support and agreement.

"Well, I -for one- am glad to know that you won't be the Dark Lord's spouse anymore," said Kasimir, deviously smirking at him. "You don't need that title any longer, Orion. You've already formed your base of followers, and we're over fifty in the DA alone. Moreover, the DA already respects you, and looks up to you as their leader. Being the Dark Lord's spouse gave you an extra benefit before, but not any longer. Those who don't want to become Death Eaters wouldn't flock to you if you were still the Dark Lord's spouse, do you see?" His smirk widened slyly. "So I dare say that this is a gift sent from the Fates."

"I agree," grunted Geodrof in his characteristical terseness.

"I'm not so sure about these benefits you speak of, Kas," said Alexios softly, his expression one of serene pensiveness. "Oh, I see the upside of this, but Orion will still have to prove himself in some other way." He shot Orion a warm, placid smile. "Not to us, but to the rest of the DA. One thing if for them to gossip about how you disposed of a Dementor and resurrected a Kissed wizard - gossips spurred thanks to Titania's and Calypso's 'slip' of the tongue. But another thing is for them to have direct proof that you've become even more powerful. They should see your abilities for themselves. They should have further proof that you're a wizard powerful enough to be followed by them. A wizard who can lead them, and protect them in battle. And a wizard who can, most importantly, stand up to the Dark Lord. If not, they would fear to refuse the Dark Mark."

"Xios is right," interjected Artemisa, her lips quirking into a wickedly sensuous and cunning curve, making her dimples stand out. "None of the DA members have defected your side, but just two days have passed since those Carrows left, and many could change their minds. Most of them are pressured by their own parents or relatives. They need to know that you're not only a viable alternative, but that you're the strongest one – the best choice."

"Exactly," said Hector sharply, piercing Orion with his dark blue eyes. "And you don't only have to give the DA some solid proof soon, but also to the rest of students. To those who aren't in Gustav Orloff's grasp. To those who are still undecided."

"Ja, we need more members," said Dravana in her heavily accented voice, gazing at him with her deep, black eyes. "As you said, Durmstrang is your turf, Orion. It's your home. It's the home of all of us. And the Dark Lord certainly didn't attend this school. He attended Hogwarts, as you once vaguely revealed to us. And school loyalty is something that everyone in Durmstrang believes in. Our esteemed Lord Grindelwald himself garnered most of his followers from here, and so must you. We are the only school of the world exclusively oriented to the Dark Arts, and you must exploit this which unites us."

Orion widely smirked at them, feeling mighty proud of them, while a warm sentiment wrapped around his chest – an uplifting and powerful feeling caused by their show of staunch, steadfast support. And he glanced at the only two members of his Elite who had remained pensively silent. "Wen? Tita?"

Wenceslas' light blue gaze locked with his, and he said coolly, "Yes, but the question is how will you do it? It's clear that we need to expand the DA, that you need more followers now that you're an independent figure from the Dark Lord. You need your own large army of followers. You'll be considered as the second leader of the Dark, but you have to show that you're greater than the Dark Lord himself. You could gather students and duel with someone, I guess. Perhaps with Master Rosier, since he's the Dark Arts professor. Thus, you can expose your abilities to the whole student body. But… I don't know, it doesn't seem enough. You need something more spectacular, something more awe-inspiring."

"Er, well, you could ask Them," said Titania vaguely, her frown wrinkling as she tried to voice her opinion without disclosing too much, while she attempted to circumvent her Aux Atrum vow of secrecy. "Perhaps They would reveal themselves to the students, if you asked."

Orion grimaced, her obvious allusion to the Spirits not escaping him. He shook his head, and said dryly, "No, I will not ask them for any favors. I don't need Them. And I'm sure they'll refuse. They're waiting to do that much later, after -and if- I succeed in a couple of things."

Gratefully, he saw that no one of the Elite was remotely fazed by his cryptic dialogue. Obviously, Calypso knew exactly what they were speaking about, but she was the only one. Evander and Kara, new to Elite dynamics, looked confused, trying to make sense of the conversation. But the others had become used to his seemingly nonsensical conversations with Titania, and they no longer curiously demanded to know what it was all about. They simply accepted that Titania and he shared some secret, and that someday he would disclose it to them.

"You could scare Orloff," said Viktor, his hazel eyes gleaming with wicked eagerness. "You know, intimidate him, curse him until he's an unrecognizable lump of blood and flesh. I loathe that boasting little shit. Duel him and land him on the infirmary for several months, and he won't be able to recruit anyone for Death Eater ranks." He roguishly grinned at him. "Then, the Dark Lord will kill Orloff for failing, and we have one less problem in our hands and you would have dueled someone and openly showed your abilities."

Calypso scoffed, and said with an impatient roll of her eyes, "Gustav is a mediocre duelist, and if Orion bested him it would hardly prove anything. And the Dark Lord will merely send the Carrows again, so that they can appoint some other student as their liaison. How's your plan any good? Quite frankly, it's utterly brainless."

"Well, I don't see you suggesting anything useful," snapped Viktor, darkly glaring at her. "And I don't see why you're here either – you left the DA!"

"If Calypso wants to be with us and plot, she will," said Orion in a commanding, steely tone of voice.

At that, Calypso shot Viktor a superior smirk, which was responded by a low grumble. But in the end, Viktor merely scowled at her, his irritation obvious but mute.

"I already know how to 'prove' myself," said Orion at last, widely shooting them a sly and confident smirk. "I want all of you to contact those students who are undecided, those who haven't gone to Orloff. And with supreme surreptitiousness, I want you to gather those students and the DA, and take them to the Dark Arts classroom. It's the most spacey room, and most importantly, it's shaped like a circular amphitheater. Everyone will be able to see perfectly while seated. And you'll do this tonight."

Kara gazed at him, intrigued. "Are you going to duel several students at once? Or are you going to ask Master Rosier and some other professor to duel against you?"

"Neither of those things," said Orion, smiling deviously at them. "I'm going to show all of them what you guys suggested, that I'm greater than the Dark Lord. I will show them a memory, and I'll use a spell which will make it unravel as if it was a muggle movie being screened."

"A what?" said Geodrof gruffly, scrunching his broad nose in disgust. "I don't see how anything unraveling as something remotely muggle can be useful."

Orion waved a hand dismissively. "It will, you'll see."

"What memory are you going to show them?" said Calypso, frowning at him.

"The one in which I tortured Voldemort with my dark magic until he lost consciousness," replied Orion, widely smirking. "It will be edited, of course, but I will show that part, and I will show how a Death Eater addressed me as 'My Lord Black'. That ought to convince the students. Furthermore, I'll show parts of how I confronted the Dementor and how I resurrected my father. They want proof that I'm someone powerful enough to be followed instead of the Dark Lord, then they'll have it."

"You tortured the Dark Lord until he lost unconsciousness?" breathed out Artemisa awed, before her olive-tanned, beautiful face broke into a beaming, proud smile. "That will do the trick, I dare say."

The others reacted much in the same way, and Orion could almost see their respect for him speedily rising a bunch of more notches. And he saw a hint of zealousness sparkling in Wenceslas' sharp blue eyes, in Dravana's deep black ones, and in Kasimir's dark blue gaze, accompanied by an expression of smug contentment and eagerness in the others' faces. Though, in Evander and Kara it was mild, since they were new to the group. But in Calypso, the lack of excitement was evident.

"When did this happen?" interjected Calypso worriedly and troubled, her frown having deepened. "For Circe's sake, Orion, that's obviously the reason why the Dark Lord wants to break your magical marital bond. You have to-"

"It happened tonight, before I came to Durmstrang. But I won't fix matters with him," interrupted Orion coldly. "Don't insist on it further. You know that he sent the Carrows here even before I saw him tonight. He knew we would fight and argue, and he had already decided that he was fed up with me."

"That doesn't matter," said Calypso sharply, narrowing her eyes at him. "You want him. You always have. So fight to keep him! You love him-"

"I love no one!" spat Orion heatedly. "Stop trying to make me change my mind. Breaking our marital union was a decision reached by both of us."

"You lie," snapped Calypso briskly. "You didn't want it to happen, and you do love him-"

"Oh, spare us the fluffiness," interrupted Artemisa, glaring at her with irritation. "If Orion says he doesn't want to be with the Dark Lord any longer, then that's it. 'Love' has nothing to do with it. Orion has to think strategically, and certainly not be ruled by his emotions. And becoming an independent leader of the Dark was something that he would eventually need to do." She pierced Orion with her almond-shaped eyes, while she flipped a curtain of glossy chestnut hair away from her shoulder. "That was your deal with us since the beginning. And we follow you due to it. If we wanted to follow someone who was merely the Dark Lord's spouse, then we would have become Death Eaters instead."

"True," piped in Alexios calmly, in his soft, serene voice. "This is the next step for us. And we need to proceed further if we want to be the ones with power and influence during and after the war. You're our Leader and you're stepping up, just as we expected of you."

"That's all very fine," interjected Viktor, pinning Orion with hazel eyes void from their usual mischievous glint. "But I'm wary about the consequences of showing the students the memory in which you tortured the Dark Lord. News of this will reach his ears and he'll retaliate, Orion. I fear what he'll do to you in retribution."

"He'll never find out," said Orion, smirking at them when they voiced similar worries. "I was already planning on casting an enforced secrecy vow on everyone who attends the gathering. By merely attending, they will implicitly commit to the vow. And not even Merlin himself will be able to break such spell. Thus, no one will say a word about what they'll see, and nothing will be pried from their minds if someone attempted it."

"What spell is this?" said Calypso, puzzled and highly curious. "I've never heard of a spell which enforces a secrecy vow, even if the victim unknowingly agrees to it."

"It's an arcane old spell," replied Orion dismissively, "which ran out of fashion a few centuries back… er - I found it in an old book, in Black Manor's library."

Calypso frowned, unconvinced, but Orion merely gazed at all of them, and said with deep satisfaction, "So, we have work to do. Find the students and bring them to the Dark Arts classroom. We'll have the first gathering today – in an hour and a half, right at the stroke of midnight. I also want them gathered tomorrow and Sunday night, to further explain what's the DA, what they'll get from it if they join us, and what our plans are in general. Come on, people, we're going to have a busy weekend. Calypso, Titania, stay back with me, we have much to plan for this first gathering."

* * *

Two weeks had passed by, and the season neared to the start of June, yet Orion hadn't heard a word from Voldemort, and his Black Heir ring had never burned again. As much as he was tempted to lower his Occlumency barriers to catch a glimpse of what the wizard was doing, he didn't because there was a slight chance that Voldemort could also see what he was up to. Therefore, he assuaged his sour mood and curiosity by keeping himself busy.

The three gatherings with undecided Durmstrang students and DA members had gone superbly. As he had planned, he had showed them the memory of himself torturing the Dark Lord until the wizard lost unconsciousness, of Rabastan Lestrange fearfully and respectfully calling him 'My Lord Black', of him manipulating Cadmus into going through the Necromancer's Gate, and of resurrecting his father. Of course, he had clipped the memories so that nothing secretively important was shown, and he had even slightly modified the one about Voldemort and Rabastan, to show the younger Lestrange and himself as clothed. For Voldemort it hadn't been necessary, because the wizard had never divested himself from his trousers. And when Orion remembered that the wizard had merely pulled his zipper down to take him, he inwardly and angrily damned the man. But that was as far as he allowed himself to think about Voldemort during the gathering he had held with the students.

After his audience had gasped, and broken into awed and animated whispers and murmurs, they had finally expressed their frenzied agitation by firing at him numerous questions, which he had calmly replied. Moreover, Titania had brought to the meeting several Durmstrang graduates who were coursing their apprenticeships at the school. And it was one of them who had suspiciously doubted the veracity of the memory shown. Not concerned by it, Orion had allowed the older wizard to cast a spell to discern if the memory had been modified. And subsequently, the 'clothing' he had made to cover Rabastan and himself had glowed red in the screened memory. Eyebrows had been raised and snickers had resounded throughout the room, yet no one dared to ask about it, certainly due to the coldly lethal expression Orion had favored them with.

All in all, the three gatherings had produced excellent results. And the DA, once a group of fifty, had expanded to have over ninety members. Orion didn't know half of them, but he had tasked his Elite to work with them in squad-like units during the weeks when he was at Hogwarts, so that the new members would speedily learn spells and curses already mastered by the older members. Therefore, the Elite taught the new DA's lessons during the weeks, and he took over during his weekends at Durmstrang, making the DA practice in simulated battles. He knew it would take a while for the new DA members to catch up with the older members, who were more advanced, but the important matter was that his Elite would work on that on a daily basis and that it would be accomplished.

Furthermore, Calypso was once more with them, but only in a schemer-capacity since she refused to participate in the DA's lessons and only stayed up late at night to plot with Orion. He had been angry, and then hurt, that she didn't want to fully reintegrate in the DA. But he hadn't pressed her, nor had he demanded to know what was still obviously troubling her.

Nevertheless, despite how everything was perfectly working out with the DA, Orion's mood was shifty. Sometimes, he felt triumphant and mightily satisfied, while he observed his Dark Army fiercely and dexterously fighting in simulated battlesh. But other times, his mood was sour, short-tempered and occasionally dejected, particularly when he was at Hogwarts. Often - now that he was no longer being assaulted by his past lives' memories- he reviewed the visions he saw during his nightly dreams, feeling troubled. The visions hadn't changed, and they still showed Draco being tortured and him protectively cradling a baby girl in his arms, feeling deeply grieved and sorrowful. Of course, by now, the visions about being the Vindico didn't trouble him any longer, but the one about his daughter did.

He didn't know what it meant, but he was almost certain that it would happen. It had already been proved to him that his visions had a way of really happening, even if with unexpected twists. And he worriedly wondered what the one of his daughter was about, and more importantly how and when he would have a daughter. His marriage to the Dark Lord had for all purposes ended, even if the magical bond hadn't been severed yet. Thus, it either meant that he became pregnant with Voldemort's bastard daughter, or that she was his daughter from another wizard. Yet the wisps of silky black hair on her little head could only mean that she was his daughter with Voldemort… or Lezander…

And he didn't quite know what to feel about it, other than troubled uncertainty. Furthermore, in the visions, he looked young, just as he was now, so everything pointed towards that he would become pregnant soon, if he wasn't already. But neither of those circunstances was possible, because he had never taken any potions to magically modify his insides in order to be able to carry a baby. He would know, even if someone tried to slip the potion in his drink, since the effects of it were agonizingly painful… Yes, the whole vision about his daughter perplexed and worried him. Even more so due to the grief he felt, while cradling her with unconditional love. But he had no idea how it could possibly come to happen.

Thus, he was usually in a bleak mood during his Hogwarts weeks, often staring and touching the wedding ring around his finger - the Slytherin heirloom that only Voldemort and he could see. Voldemort had its match, also with two snakes coiled around each other, one with ruby eyes the other with emeralds for eyes. And Orion felt a piercing sense of lost whenever he stared at it, knowing that Voldemort would demand the ring back once the wizard broke the magical marital bond between them. Until then, Voldemort couldn't demand the ring which contained one of the wizard's pieces of soul, because the magical bond itself made the ring irremovable. But he knew Voldemort would want it, a horcrux, back. And Orion would comply, since he had no wish to make Voldemort suspect that he was a threat to the wizard's horcruxes – he wasn't. As much as he fleetingly hated Voldemorts nowadays, he had no true reason to want him dead. He would never do it out of mere spite.

Due to the contrasting emotions of feeling smugly and proudly triumphant with his DA and then low-spirited whilst being at Hogwarts, Orion had a very volatile temper which even matched his father's. He still dropped by Potter Manor whenever he could, and he had occasionally found Sirius in a depressed state, just to change radically in the next second to become cheerful, mischievous and carefree. Orion thought it was the wizard's own way of coping with what had happened to him, so he merely lent warm, affectionate support, without forcing Sirius to discuss matters with him. Nevertheless, he was glad to see that Grindelwald was working miracles with the wizard. Oh, Sirius hadn't become a reformed dark wizard convinced about the importance of blood purity, but the wizard did practice dark curses without complaining and whining so much as before.

But, yes, regarding mood shifts, Orion was aware that he wasn't doing much better than his resurrected father, who had the valid excuse of having been Kissed and trapped inside a Dementor for three years. Orion's volatile temper had even escaped the tight control he had over himself, and he had finally engaged in a long-desired fistfight with Ron. Obviously, he had ended up pummeling the obnoxiously annoying Weasel to a pulp. Thanks to the Zraven blood coursing in his veins, he was only surpassed by Lezander and vampires in general in physical strength -though he rarely resorted to it. Though Voldemort surpassed him as well in that aspect, because Merlin knew how many rituals the wizard had used to fortify his body. Regardless, venting his aggressive anger and crisp mood on Ron _had_ been satisfying, especially when a resounding 'crack' had issued when he had broken the boy's nose with a punch, just before Snape had ripped them apart, nastily smirking while deducing one hundred points from Gryffindor House. Hermione hadn't taken _that_ quietly, and to her indignant dismay, she had simply garnered a further fifty-point deduction instead of a fairly based revaluation of circumstances. Her deluded bubble of justice still persevered, and she had yet to understand that fairness didn't mix with Snapishness.

Nevertheless, there were two things which had the ability to uplift his mood, no matter what. One of them was that Draco was doing very well with his task of fixing the vanishing cabinet. With the use of the two-way mirrors, they occasionally chatted with each other, and Orion could then intently inspect him day after day, having visible proof that his friend was gaining back his usual healthy appearance, along with his arrogant and confident swagger – which Orion had honestly missed. Moreover, Draco would soon finish fixing the cabinet. The young wizard estimated that he would have worked as hard as he could on it in about two weeks. Then, Draco would take his last measure: to finally drink the Felix Felicis potion to work on the cabinet one last final time. And under the effects of the potion, Draco would at last conclude his work. For Orion, that meant that Dumbledore's hour was approaching, and he couldn't feel any more happily eager at the perspective.

The other occurrence which brightened his days was a custom adopted by his Elite, and subsequently copied by the rest of his DA. After the first 'mega-gathering', as Viktor had pegged it, where Orion had showed them how he had tortured Voldemort, his Elite had started addressing him as 'My Lord Black'. In the beginning, it was done amidst amused sniggers which were their way of mocking Rabastan's reaction to a momentarily felled Lord Voldemort. But then, the Elite slyly called him 'My Lord Black' in a deeply reverent and respectful tone of voice whenever the rest of the DA was present. And from then onwards, the DA had learned from them and copied the Elite's mode of address towards him. In no time, the tone of deep respect rang true.

And it even went beyond his own group of followers, since during Potions lessons at Hogwarts, with Rodolphus Lestrange impersonating Horace Slughorn, he had become aware of the scrutinizing glances that the Death Eater surreptitiously shot him. There was always a hint of cautiousness, sly musing, and grave reevaluation in the wizard's polyjuiced eyes. Thus, Orion knew that Rabastan had already spread, among Death Eater ranks, the gossip of how he had rendered unconscious the Dark Lord.

Just with the evidence of the way the DA and Rodolphus acted around him, Orion had known that the greater wheels had started turning - spinning speedily. And it filled him with a sense of foretelling and powerful satisfaction, accomplishment, and victory.

Finally, it was the first of June and Orion was making his way towards Gryffindor Tower, after leaving the girl's bathroom which held the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Not unlike any other day, he had used his time-turner and covertly gone into Chamber to apparate to Potter Manor, undetected by Hogwarts' wards. After a two-hour training session with Grindelwald, in which he practiced further everything he had learned from his mentor, he had had an unusually peaceful chat with his father. Of course, he hadn't told Sirius that he and Voldemort had 'parted ways'. Actually, he hadn't told anyone except his Elite. Nevertheless, his easygoing conversation with his father had left him satisfied, and it couldn't even be dampened by Grindelwald's response of 'Soon, mein junge, soon' when he had asked the old wizard, once again, when he would be told the important and useful piece of information that Grindelwald had promised to divulge to him.

Thus, Orion was making his way back after returning from Potter Manor. Since it was quite late at night, the corridors were empty. But on the third floor he met Peeves and only narrowly avoided detection by diving sideways through one of his shortcuts. And by the time he got up to the portrait of the Fat Lady, he was not surprised to find her in a most unhelpful mood.

"What sort of time do you call this?"

"M'sorry," mumbled Orion tiredly, since during the weeks he had been increasingly feeling the exhaustion caused by the potion he was daily imbibing to mute his aura of dark magic. "I went into a classroom to study in quietness, and lost my sense of time-"

"Well, the password changed at midnight," said the portrait gruffly, "so you'll just have to sleep in the corridor, won't you?"

"You're joking!" snapped Orion indignantly. "Why did it have to change at midnight?"

"That's the way it is," said the Fat Lady. "If you're angry, go and take it up with the headmaster, he's the one who's tightened security."

"Fantastic," said Orion bitterly, looking around at the hard floor. "Bloody brilliant. Yeah, I would go and take it up with Dumbledore if he was here, because I checked his office before and it was empty, and I bloody wanted to give him something-"

"He is here," said a voice behind Orion. "Professor Dumbledore returned to the school an hour ago."

Nearly Headless Nick was gliding toward Orion, his head wobbling as usual upon his ruff, and Orion watched him with veiled distaste. In his opinion, Gryffindor House's ghost was quite pathetic, always bemoaning that he hadn't been properly decapitated. He much preferred Slytherin House's ghost, who scared all others and even had Peeves under his control.

"I had it from the Bloody Baron, who saw him arrive," said Nick. "He appeared, according to the Baron, to be in good spirits, though a little tired, of course."

"Where is he?" demanded Orion eagerly.

In his pocket, he had carried around the flask containing the memory he had supposedly garnered from Horace Slughorn. And during the past two weeks he had gone up to Dumbledore's office five times already, in order to finally give the old coot the memory. But the old goat had never been there. It only proved to him that the manipulative codger was certainly very busy with Order matters and with war plans. Nevertheless, he was quite fed up and he simply wanted to give Dumbledore the darned, modified memory once and for all.

"Oh, groaning and clanking up on the Astronomy Tower, it's a, favorite pastime of his-"

"Not the Bloody Baron - Dumbledore!" snapped Orion impatiently, while he inwardly grumbled with irritation.

Merlin, in Gryffindor he was surrounded by idiots! Well, with the exception of Hermione. But he frequently damned his decision of telling the Sorting Hat to throw him in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. Thank Circe that he wouldn't have to put up with Gryffindorks for too long… just one more month… That phrase had almost become like a muggle prayer for him.

"Oh - in his office," said Nick slowly. "I believe, from what the Baron said, that he had business to attend to before turning in -"

"Yes, he has!" said Orion, wheeling about and sprinting off immediately, ignoring the Fat Lady who was calling after him.

"Come back! All right, I lied - I was annoyed you woke me up! The password's still 'tapeworm'!"

But Orion was already hurtling along the corridors and within minutes, he was saying "toffee éclairs" to Dumbledore's gargoyle, which leapt aside, permitting Orion entrance onto the spiral staircase.

"Enter," said Dumbledore when Orion knocked.

The old man sounded exhausted, and Orion brightened up and inwardly smirked – at least the two of them were just as tired. And without further ado, Orion pushed open the door and nonchalantly waltzed inside. There was Dumbledore's office, looking the same as ever, but with black, star-strewn skies beyond the windows.

"Good gracious, Orion," said Dumbledore in surprise. "To what do I owe this very late pleasure?"

"Sir," he said, with the polite address feeling nasty in his mouth, "I've got it, several days ago. I tried to give it to you sooner, but never found you. I've got the memory from Slughorn."

Orion pulled out the small flask Voldemort had given him, and showed it to Dumbledore. For a moment or two, the Headmaster looked stunned. Then his face split in a wide smile.

"Orion, this is spectacular news! Very well done, indeed. I knew you could do it!"

And for a second there, Orion almost thought that the old man's warm smile was honest and the wizard's affection sincere. But he wouldn't delude himself in that way, so he pushed that notion to a side.


	17. Slughorn's memory & Albus' past

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

This is a very loong chapter which is basically packed with information, many of which you already know from canon. But it's a necessary chapter, and the action will come soon, promised! And I hope you enjoy it and review, nonetheless. *winks*

* * *

**Chapter 17**

All thought of the lateness of the hour apparently forgotten, Dumbledore hurried around his desk, took the vial with Slughorn's memory in his hand, and strode over to the cabinet where he kept the pensieve.

"And now," said Dumbledore eagerly, placing the stone basin upon the desk and emptying the contents of the small flask into it. "Now, at last, we shall see. Orion, quickly…"

Orion inwardly sighed, wishing he could simply leave and go to his dormitory to get some sleep. He knew perfectly well what they would see, and he had hoped that the old coot would simply take the memory and let him be. Alas, it wasn't to be so. Therefore, he obediently bowed over the pensieve, and in an instant he felt his feet leaving the office floor…

He fell through darkness and swiftly landed in Horace Slughorn's office many years before. There was a much younger Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and his gingery-blond mustache, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in his office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallized pineapple. And Orion felt nothing when he stared at the long ago murdered wizard; not even a hint of regret for having handed Slughorn to Voldemort, to be killed. In his opinion, Slughorn had deserved that and much more for casting a compulsion mind web on Tom Riddle, and decades later on Lily Evans. Granted, his mother would have probably never married James Potter without being slightly compelled, and he would have never had Potter blood in him due to the consangri ritual that James and his mother had made him undergo when he was a baby. But still, the Aux Atrum had it coming, even if Slughorn had shown a modicum of repentance for his actions by breaking away from the Spirits, obliviating many of his own memories and disappearing for many years.

In the office, there were half a dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, with his grandfather's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger – it's gem the Resurrection Stone.

Though, as always, Dumbledore didn't remark on the ring as he landed besides Orion, just as Tom asked, "Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, waggling his finger reprovingly at the handsome teenager, though winking at the same time. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Tom charmingly smiled, the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks, all seeming to look to him as their leader. And Orion observed the young Tom Riddle with supreme impassiveness, though he peeled his gaze away from the boy soon. Part of him felt slightly pained that there was so little of this Tom left in Voldemort. Part of him wished that he still had locket Tom with him, or that Voldemort had merged with more horcruxes and not just with locket Tom. For he knew that everything between Voldemort and him would have gone much better if that had been the case. He remembered that with locket Tom they had reached a point of deep friendship and affection, where the portrait had even openly expressed his love for him, without fearing to appear too emotional and thus weak. Nevertheless, all chances of that were long gone, so Orion simply focused back on what was happening around him, his face devoid from any expression.

"…I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years," was saying Slughorn. "Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the other boys laughed again, and Orion fleetingly thought, with a hint of sadness, that Minister of Magic was exactly what Tom should have been, if only the Spirits hadn't meddled in the boy's life.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," said Tom with humble modesty, when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other, as if enjoying a private joke. Orion noticed the Slytherin House crest on their robes, so it was obvious that these Slytherins already knew that Tom was Salazar Slytherin's Heir. They probably privately addressed Tom as 'Marvolo Gaunt' out of respect for his ancestry, if not as 'Lord Voldemort' already.

"Nonsense," said Slughorn briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet."

Orion side-glanced at Dumbledore, seeing a slight grimace on the old man's face while the old wizard fixedly gazed at Tom. There was a hint of sadness and regret in the grimace, and Orion was inwardly confused and surprised that Dumbledore was feeling the same as he was when Slughorn said those words. Was Dumbledore's sadness sincere? Or was the man purposely showing himself as such – to make him wonder if the old wizard really regretted having done nothing to prevent Tom from turning into Lord Voldemort. Orion would have shifted uneasily, but he didn't. Despite the doubts that Dumbledore occasionally managed to rise in his mind, he would end up killing the old wizard - for the Elder Wand and due to Dumbledore's past transgressions towards him and his father. Yet, he didn't like to be faced with Dumbledore's appearance of seemingly compunction and regret.

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and the pot-bellied walrus looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by in morrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

Orion silently watched as Rodolphus' and Rabastan's father filed out of the room, amidst the other boys. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind made the wizard look around; Tom was still standing there, just like the first time Orion and Dumbledore had seen the memory, purposely modified messily by Slughorn. So far, everything was exactly the same.

"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect..."

Tom glanced at Slughorn, and said with humble politeness, "Sir, I wanted to ask you something-"

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away," interrupted Slughorn, waving a hand impatiently.

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?" said Tom, with perfect hesitation.

Slughorn stared at the boy, his thick fingers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass. "Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?"

Again, Orion could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork. But this time, unlike the first time when he had seen this memory, he caught something in Slughorn's small eyes. There was veiled satisfaction in those eyes, but also pained reluctance – Slughorn had achieved the task he was ordered to fulfill by the Spirits, but the old wizard wasn't proud of himself. And Orion knew, with a blazing certainty, that this was the exact moment in which Slughorn had started doubting the Spirits' methods. Just like he knew that Slughorn's loyalty towards the Spirits vanished after the wizard had compelled Lily Evans, following their orders. Thus, Orion realized that Slughorn must have broken away from the Spirits after fulfilling his task of casting a mind web on his most cherished and favorite student.

Nevertheless, this pained satisfaction in Slughorn's eyes was something he couldn't have picked up if he hadn't known that this Aux Atrum was precisely the one to have compelled Tom into researching ways to achieve immortality. The old walrus' acting skills were superb, as much as Tom's. Orion was now observing two masters at play, each with their own plans and secrets – an Aux Atrum yielder of powerful mind magic against Slytherin's Heir and future Dark Lord. Though, obviously, it was Tom who was being led by Slughorn and not the other way around. And Orion wished he could have been there to stop it from happening, while his deep-rooted hatred and contempt for the Spirits rose to unparalleled levels.

He side-glanced at Dumbledore again. The old wizard was intently observing Slughorn and Tom, attentively listening to them – this was exactly the part the old coot had been waiting for.

"Not exactly, sir," said Tom. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No… well… you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom," said Slughorn, his tone slightly reproving. "That's very Dark stuff, very Dark, indeed."

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you - sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously…." said Tom, his tone hesitant and casual, the flattery masterful and careful, none of it overdone. "I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could - so I just thought I'd…"

Orion was tempted to clap bitterly at their performance.

"Well," said Slughorn, not looking at Tom, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," said Tom, his voice carefully controlled though his excitement could be perceived.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

Orion inwardly arched an eyebrow with contempt. Was this weak warning Slughorn's way to assuage his conscience and scruples regarding the path he had set for Tom to take? Had Slughorn told himself that with this warning he wasn't to blame for how Tom had turned out?

"How do you split your soul?" said Tom, and his tone of voice was now demanding, his hunger apparent, his longing evident and his expression greedy.

"Well," said Slughorn uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting n it I an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?" pressed on Tom impatiently.

"By an act of evil - the supreme act of evil. By commiting murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion -"

"Encase? But how - ?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. "Do I look as though I have tried it - do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," said Tom quickly. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend..."

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Slughorn gruffly. "It is natural to feel some curiosity about these things... Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic…"

Orion wanted to scream and shoot a Killing Curse at the man, right away. Yet, his fingers only twitched, and outwardly he was calmly composed and merely listening to them with curious attentiveness.

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "What I don't understand, though - just out of curiosity - I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't three the second most powerfully magical number? Seven if the most powerful one, but that's too radical, and nothing good comes from extreme actions. But three would be safe. Three would be preferable, wouldn't three - ?"

In a flash, Dumbledore's head snapped around and Orion was pierced by the old man's gaze, at the same time that Orion almost choked on his own tongue. If he had been anyone else, he would have choked, gasped, and lost all the color of his face. And if it wasn't for his studied façade of supreme coolness, he would have raged and let out a furious tirade damning Voldemort to the deepest pits of hell. As it was, with skills honed under Grindelwald's strict training, every muscle of his face was under his tight control and nothing even twitched. He merely gazed back at Dumbledore with an expression of befuddlement and wonder, his expression of innocence utterly convincing. Dumbledore's gaze locked with his, and in it Orion could see the wheels turning in that sharp mind. Nevertheless, the old man's piercing stare wasn't accusing or reprovingly suspicious, it was merely sad and disappointed - deeply.

And Orion just knew that there was no way he could explain this. There was no way that Dumbledore would believe that this memory hadn't been masterfully modified, that Tom had only said 'three' instead of 'seven'. Or instead of 'six', like Voldemort had promised to modify this memory so that Tom would say 'six' – the most powerful number in the Dark Arts.

With a piercing pang, Orion felt deeply betrayed and hurt, though he knew this wasn't Voldemort betraying him by not modifying the memory as they had agreed on. This was Voldemort caging him to his side, making Dumbledore know where Orion's true allegiances lied with, closing a door for Orion, that which led to Dumbledore's good graces and trust.

Yes, Voldemort had effectually caged him, and it hadn't even crossed Orion's mind to check the memory before handing it to Dumbledore. He had implicitly trusted Voldemort to modify it as they had previously agreed. And this was the second time he slipped: the first, by not having foreseen that Voldemort would send someone to Durmstrang to recruit, and the second, by not checking this memory beforehand.

But Orion placed the blame wholly on himself, and his raging fury towards Voldemort mellowed away, slowly. He knew what the problem was, why he had slipped twice already: at some point along the way, during his relationship with Voldemort, he had come to truly trust the man, as much as he could given his own secrets. But it had been true, heart-felt trust. And he had still been in that mind-frame, not realizing the full consequences of what Voldemort had meant when saying that they were parting ways.

This was it. Voldemort would no longer be watching out for him, protecting and helping him. Voldemort would no longer act for his benefit as well as his own. The man would no longer plot with him, scheming together to reach their common goals. No, now he was on his own, spouseless and without Voldemort for a friend or a shoulder to rely on. He was... alone.

And he realized that the problem had been his lack of suspicion, his lingering trust towards Voldemort. But he no longer felt any trust towards his former spouse, not after this – not after being so importantly affected by Voldemort's dirty and underhanded tricks. Yet, Orion didn't blame Voldemort for this. He had also played dirty and slyly by showing Durmstrang students the memory in which he had tortured Voldemort. And if he had been alone, Orion would have proudly, yet bitterly, clapped at Voldemort's cunning and slyness.

Regardless, this did place him in a rocky situation with Dumbledore, and he didn't quite know how he would explain himself. With his mind rushing with a thousand thoughts per second, he knew Dumbledore wouldn't believe that Tom had merely said 'three'. 'Three' meant splitting one's souls trice and making only two horcruxes, since the third piece of soul, the master one, had to remain inside the wizard.

And Dumbledore had showed him the memory of Tom going to Hepzibah Smith and seeing the Slytherin locket and the Hufflepuff cup. Furthermore, years ago, he had fought with Dumbledore in the Gaunt's house, in order to flee with the Gaunt ring. He didn't believe the old man knew that he had been the boy with features so unlike his own, dressed in frayed and dirty muggle clothing, and speaking like a muggle street urchin. But Dumbledore had to suspect that the Gaunt ring had not only been the Resurrection Stone but also one of Voldemort's horcruxes. So that made three horcruxes which Dumbledore must be sure of. And the diary had to be added to that list. Granted, the old man had never seen the diary, but there was no way that the Weasley girl could have opened the Chamber of Secrets by herself. Thus, Dumbledore must suspect that a horcrux had been involved in that matter, all those years ago. So that made four horcruxes which Dumbledore must firmly suspect of, if he didn't count Orion himself. That was four already, and not only two horcruxes.

Therefore, Dumbledore would never believe that this memory hadn't been tampered with. But on the other hand, the old man didn't know that Slughorn was dead and currently being impersonated by Rodolphus Lestrange. Thus, Orion concluded that Dumbledore could only suspect that he had obtained this memory from Slughorn and then that he had modified it himself, in order to protect Voldemort. Nevertheless, now Dumbledore had proof that he was truly on the Dark's side – just what Voldemort had wanted to accomplish with this, along with protecting the secret of just how many horcruxes he had made.

Orion caught a glimpse of Dumbledore flicking his wand, casting something nonverbally. And he instantly knew what the man was trying to do – to detect if the memory had been modified by anyone. But nothing glowed red, and what they saw and heard didn't change – Voldemort had perfectly modified it, without leaving any traces of it.

"Merlin's beard, Tom!" was saying Slughorn. "Three! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case… bad enough to divide the soul… but to rip it into three pieces…"

Slughorn looked deeply troubled now. He was gazing at Tom as though he had never seen him plainly before, and as if regretting entering into the conversation at all. And Orion inwardly gritted his teeth, feeling a blaze of anger. Though he hardly knew at whom it was directed anymore: at Slughorn for being such a good actor and fulfilling what the Spirits had ordered him to do; at Tom for being tempted by immortality and for not unwittingly fighting against the compulsion on his mind, like his mother Lily Evans had done; at the Spirits for being the main cause of all the trouble and misery; or at Voldemort for giving Dumbledore such a solid proof that he was on the Dark's side, without warning him beforehand, leaving him to deal with Dumbledore - trapping him in a situation he hadn't prepared himself for.

"Of course," muttered Slughorn, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic…"

"Yes, sir, of course," said Tom quickly.

"But all the same, Tom... keep it quiet, what I've told - that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know... Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it..."

"I won't say a word, sir," said Tom, and he left, but not before Orion had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human - cruel, ruthless, and even slightly deranged in his own obsessions. Yes, Orion could clearly see it in Tom's face, and he felt sad and… disgusted…

"Thank you, Orion," murmured Dumbledore quietly. "Let us go…"

Orion peeled his gaze from Slughorn and Tom. He didn't want to see more. Yes, he felt disgusted by all of it - by Slughorn's actions, the Spirit's methods, and by the worse aspects of Tom's and Voldemort's personality.

When Orion landed back on the office floor, Dumbledore was already sitting down behind his desk. Orion sat too and waited for Dumbledore to speak, for he truly didn't have anything he wanted to say. He felt worn and tired, and just wanted to close his eyes and rest for a bit.

Dumbledore gazed at him from above his half-moon spectacles, and said in a quiet, gentle voice, "You obtained this memory from Horace Slughorn?"

"Yes," said Orion simply, meeting and holding his gaze.

"Was he very reluctant to part from it?"

Orion shrugged his shoulders, and said the first thing that crossed his mind, not truly caring if it sounded convincing or not, "Yeah, but I mentioned my mother and how she had sacrificed herself to protect me from Voldemort. I know Slughorn cherished my mum, so I started talking about her, the little I know, and about how Voldemort needs to be stopped and how any piece of information regarding him can be useful. We chatted for a long while, and Slughorn offered me some firewhiskey while he reminisced about my mother… And I think he got bit drunk, and after more persuasions, he finally gave me this memory."

"I see," said Dumbledore quietly, and his eyes weren't twinkling at all. Instead, they seemed aged, saddened and sorrowfully disappointed. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Orion blinked at him, perplexed, before he shook his head. "No. What could I possibly have to say? I'm just a bit surprised about what I heard in the memory. I mean, we've been reviewing several memories in which we saw some items, but I didn't imagine that-"

"Help will always be given to those who seek it."

Orion's eyes snapped up, locking with Dumbledore's baby blue gaze, and he stared at him in quietness. The silence was absolute, not even Fawkes was chirping. And he knew what Dumbledore was implicitly saying. The old man no longer doubted that he completely supported the Dark, and Dumbledore was reaching out a hand towards him, offering him a way out, protection and understanding, without reproaches concerning his past actions. He wondered just how far Dumbledore's protection would go – would the man devise a plan to kill Voldemort in which he didn't have to die because he was a horcrux? Would the man reveal his plans to him? Would Dumbledore tell him the truth of what he knew if he accepted this? Perhaps. Perhaps Dumbledore was truly trying his best to help him; he could see it in those light blue eyes. There was no recrimination there, and he could almost perceive something like sympathy in them. It confused him, and he didn't like it at all.

Regardless, this was an offer he couldn't take – or want to. And he only felt a slight twinge of regret, knowing that the wizard before him would soon die under his wand. But that regret was nothing in comparison to the need to obtain the Elder Wand and to dispose of the Light's Leader, in preparation for the war. Dumbledore was, above anything else, still his enemy.

"That's a very noble sentiment," said Orion placidly.

"I meant every word," said Dumbledore, before he leaned back on his high armchair, his gaze becoming distant and pensive, while he spoke in a low, quiet voice. "I've committed many mistakes during my life, Orion. And it would grieve me to see you making the same mistakes I did. Furthermore, you've always reminded me of two people whom I couldn't save. The first one, you say today in the memory; the young Tom Riddle, from whom great things were expected. I admit now, with sorrow and due blame, that I was blinded by my own prejudices, and that I didn't help him as I could have. Regretfully, he is lost to us now. The second person you remind me of, is someone who I cherished greatly, many years ago. I think you're astoundingly similar to him. And it grieves me to say that I lost him, and I was partly to blame, as well."

Orion kept his face expressionless, only showing a hint of curiosity and attentiveness. But he certainly didn't want Dumbledore to continue. The last thing he wanted was for the old man to talk about Grindelwald. Dear Merlin, he could see it clearly in Dumbledore's aged features: the wizard still loved Gellert, despite all the decades that had passed by. And he certainly didn't want to hear that. Grindelwald was a rocky subject – he had been a VA candidate, just like himself, and Orion wondered just how much Dumbledore knew about that. Nevertheless, he knew that the old man would only say vague things, nothing in concrete. And he wasn't up to play games with him, at present.

Dumbledore's gaze focused back on him, a wan smile breaking on his face. "Yes, you greatly remind me of him. But, lately, you remind me of myself when I was a bit older than yourself. I see you tired, burdened and troubled, uncertain about what decisions to make – I was uncertain as well. I deeply esteemed someone, and admired him with devotion, wanting to follow him in all his plans. I believed in those plans myself. His ideas captured me. But sometimes we learn that we shouldn't follow those we care about. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Not really," said Orion with a confused frown, though he understood perfectly.

Dumbledore saw himself in him because, like Dumbledore, he loved a Dark Lord. Twisted irony, there. Though, he wasn't happy at all to be compared to Dumbledore. Their cases weren't the same: Dumbledore had been a light wizard in love with a dark one, while he was a dark wizard who had been the spouse of another dark wizard - two of the same kind, not like Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Funnily enough, Dumbledore's past situation with Grindelwald must have been even messier than his relationship with Voldemort. But what left him wondering was if Dumbledore suspected how committed he had been to Voldemort. Did the man made the parallelism between them because Dumbledore knew that he loved Voldemort?… Or maybe he should say that he _had_ loved Voldemort, because he certainly couldn't keep acting as if he did, that would only bring him more problems.

"Ah," said Dumbledore, warmly smiling at him, "then someday soon I'll tell you a bit more about my life, Orion. And then I hope you'll learn from my past mistakes and that it will help you find your way."

Orion offered him a smile back, and said politely, "I would be interested in anything you'd like to reveal to me, sir."

"Good, then that's a promise," said Dumbledore, with his usual benevolent expression. "One of these days we'll have a private and personal conversation between us. Now, the hour is late and we need our respective rest, so we should focus on the reason for this meeting." He pierced him with his spectacled eyes, and said at last, "I have been hoping to see the original memory you've brought me for a very long time. It's a piece of evidence which confirms the theory on which I have been working. It tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is still to go."

Orion suddenly noticed that every single one of the old head-masters and headmistresses in the portraits around the walls was awake and listening in on their conversation. A corpulent, red nosed wizard had actually taken out an ear trumpet. But what surprised him the most was that Dumbledore wasn't demanding to know the truth about how he had obtained the memory, or that the old man wasn't addressing the obvious modification of the memory. It seemed that Dumbledore was brushing those issues under the carpet, willing to let go of them in order to proceed ahead.

"Well, Orion," said Dumbledore, "I am sure you understood the significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you are now, give or take a few months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out how to make himself immortal."

"Yes, sir, but we knew that already," interjected Orion politely. "We already discussed that Voldemort must have made one or several horcruxes. We simply didn't know how many, and-"

"Precisely," said Dumbledore, beaming a smile, "and now we do know. Oh, Tom Riddle didn't split his soul only three times. Voldemort is an ambitious and overconfident wizard who would push himself beyond the boundaries of magic and, I dare say, of common sense. No, I think Tom Riddle went forward with his first option – seven. Certainly, he appeared to know that making so many horcruxes was a radical measure. But 'seven' is the most powerful magical number and Voldemort wouldn't settle for a second option he considered to be less powerful and magnificent. No, Voldemort wouldn't have chosen 'three'. I'm quite certain he chose to split his soul seven times, and thus, that he created six horcruxes. Six, since the seventh part of his soul, however maimed, resides inside his regenerated body. That was the part of him that lived a spectral existence for so many years during his exile; without that, he has no self at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Voldemort must attack - the piece that lives in his body."

"He made six horcruxes?" said Orion, horror-struck, while several of the portraits on the walls made similar noises of shock mid outrage. "But they could be anywhere in the world - hidden - buried or invisible -"

"I am glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of the problem," said Dumbledore calmly.

Orion nodded at him, his expression one of alarm and deep worry. Yet he didn't push forward his acting skills and he remained silent. There wasn't much he could say about that, and it didn't surprise him at all that Dumbledore wasn't revealing that Voldemort had actually made a seventh horcrux – him.

Nevertheless, Voldemort must have realized that Dumbledore would come to this conclusion. So why had Voldemort modified the memory to make Tom say 'three'? Sure, due to it Dumbledore knew that he fully supported the Dark, but wasn't Voldemort worried about the old coot knowing how many horcruxes had been created? Apparently, Voldemort wasn't concerned about that at all. Did it mean that Voldemort had made more?

No, if Voldemort had, then he would have lost his human appearance, leaving him with snake-like features, like had happened before, when Voldemort had made a horcrux with the diary's piece of soul the man had had inside him. That was until he had persuaded Voldemort to merge with a horcrux, and the wizard had done so, merging with locket Tom and recovering his human aspect. And currently, the piece of soul which had been in the diary was in the invisible wedding ring he was wearing. So it could only mean that Voldemort had placed some protective measures around his horcruxes, perhaps changing their location, or that the man was simply confident that Dumbledore wouldn't discover what the horcruxes were.

And Voldemort had a valid point there, since not many of the original six horcruxes remained. Not counting himself as one, because, really, he couldn't just think of himself as a mere horcrux, Orion listed the original horcruxes in his mind.

The diary, Gaunt ring, Slytherin's locket, Ravenclaw's diadem, Nagini, and possibly the Hufflepuff Cup he had seen in the memory of Hepzibah Smith's house-elf. The first five he knew for sure, as well as the location of those which remained. The only one he wasn't sure about was the Hufflepuff Cup, and he certainly didn't know where it was, though he had some suspicions.

Regardless, from those original six horcruxes, only three were still horcruxes: Nagini, Ravenclaw's Diadem of Wisdom, and Hufflepuff's Cup. The other horcruxes had been used and destroyed, or transferred to other recipients.

The first one to go had been the diary. Tom Riddle had used the life force of the Weasley girl; killing her, and thus, emerging from the diary alive. Then, that Tom Riddle had found Voldemort's bodiless soul, merging with him. That way, Voldemort had been brought back to life in the body of his younger self, just looking like a handsome, thirty-something year old wizard, due to the merging of the young soul with the master one. And Orion himself had destroyed the empty diary when he had found the Chamber of Secrets.

Moreover, stupidly enough, Voldemort had torn away from him that diary piece of soul he had merged with, creating another horcrux. Orion didn't know where that piece of soul had gone into, but ultimately, it had been plunged into his wedding ring. And Voldemort had given him the Slytherin wedding ring horcrux in an astounding show of trust. Again, Orion was aware that Voldemort's words to him were true, and that he was also to blame for the subsequent rupture of their marital relationship. Nevertheless, what mattered was that the diary's piece of soul had become a horcrux in the wedding ring he was currently wearing on his finger. Though, Voldemort would certainly ask to have it back once the wizard broke the magical marital bond between them.

The second original horcrux to have been used and destroyed had been Slytherin's locket. After creating a horcrux with the diary's piece of soul and losing his human appearance, Voldemort had obeyed him and merged with locket-Tom, thus regaining his looks - and his sanity, he dared say. So that horcrux was no more.

And the third and last original horcrux that was no more had been the Gaunt ring. He had transferred that piece of soul from the Resurrection Stone into the Black heirloom necklace that Voldemort currently always wore around his neck.

So in short, the diary had been replaced by the Slytherin wedding ring he was wearing, Slytherin's locket had merged with Voldemort, and it was never replaced by another horcrux, and the Gaunt ring had been replaced by the Black heirloom necklace.

Thus, at present, there were five horcruxes, not six: the Hufflepuff Cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, Nagini, the Black necklace, and the Slytherin wedding ring. And he knew the location of every one of them except the Hufflepuff Cup.

All in all, Orion had to admit that there was no way that Dumbledore would remotely suspect or discover the convoluted fates of the original six horcruxes. Voldemort had nothing to be concerned about, in that regard.

"So you really think he succeeded then, sir?" asked Orion, leaning forward as if greatly concerned about it, his eyes wide with aghast horror and disgust. "He made six horcruxes? And that's why he didn't die when he attacked me, when I was a baby? He had horcruxes hidden somewhere? Bits of his soul were safe?"

"Exactly," replied Dumbledore gravely. "You heard Voldemort, what he particularly wanted from Horace was an opinion on what would happen to the wizard who created more than one horcrux, what would happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be prepared to murder many times, rip his soul repeatedly, so as to store it in many, separately concealed horcruxes. No book would have given him that information. As far as I know - as far, I am sure, as Voldemort knew - no wizard had ever done more than tear his soul in two. Therefore, Voldemort would have wanted to surpass all others - he would have wanted to slip his soul seven times, not only thrice. And I believe he succeeded."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, marshaling his thought, and then said, "Four years ago, an occurrence happened at Hogwarts which I considered to be certain proof that Voldemort had split his soul."

"What happened?" asked Orion, his expression confused and curious, though he knew exactly what the old coot was alluding to.

"It was during your second year at Durmstrang," said Dumbledore quietly, gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Though I'm sure you've heard about what the newspapers pegged as the 'Re-opening of the Chamber of Secrets'. Indeed, Rita Skeeter mentioned this when she interviewed you and Neville Longbottom, for the Triwizard Tournament. And perhaps, some of your acquaintances at Hogwarts mentioned it to you."

"I recall vaguely reading something about it in the newspapers, sir," interjected Orion puzzled. "Something about the Weasley's daughter disappearing… about writings on walls, some students petrified… something about a monster…" He shook his head, and stared at the old man, aghast. "So it happened for real? Someone found and opened the legendary Chamber of Secrets? I thought it didn't exist-"

"It does, though neither I nor my staff has been able to find it," said Dumbledore calmly, though his light blue eyes were piercingly boring into his. "Indeed, I have every reason to believe that poor Ginevra Weasley was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets. Furthermore, since no one but a Parselmouth could have done so, I could only conclude that she had held a horcrux in her hands, and that she had been influenced by it."

Playing his role of being innocently clueless, Orion's eyes widened, and he gasped out, "The Weasley girl had a horcrux?! But how, sir? And what happened to her-"

"I fear that she died that very same year, her first at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, his expression grieved. "Her body was never found, but after that year there were some rumors regarding the reappearance of Lord Voldemort – with features younger than he should have had given his age. Moreover, three years after that, Voldemort made his presence known at the Department of Mysteries." He intently stared at Orion. "Where you found the prophecy and where it was heard by him and you. After which, Voldemort dissapparated from the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, carrying you with him. Thankfully, Professor Snape was able to retrieve you from Voldemort, acting following my orders and putting himself in danger. Nevertheless, those circumstances – the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, the disappearance of Ginevra Weasley, and the reappearance of Voldemort – made me realize that a horcrux had possessed Ginny Weasley, and ultimately killed her to come back to life. And it's only logical to deduce that it fused with Voldemort's bodiless soul, thus creating the Voldemort who now lives among us."

Orion stared at the old man, perplexed. But this time, it was for real, since he was astounded by Dumbledore's sharp mind. The old man had correctly deduced all that, only with scarce bits of information and with mere speculations. Dear Merlin, Dumbledore was a worthy adversary, indeed. Not only in magical prowess but also in intellect and sharpness of mind. He had known that before, of course, but he was being given further proof of just how great the old man's mind was.

"You - you must be right," stuttered Orion, conveying flabbergasted worry, whilst he mused if the old wizard knew that Lucius Malfoy had been the one to have given the diary to the Weasley girl. "So… Voldemort's bodiless soul somehow managed to give a horcrux to Ginevra Weasley?"

"No, I don't think it was him at all, even if Voldemort's bodiless soul had a way to possess someone for a period of time," replied Dumbledore calmly, intertwining his fingers on top of the desk. "Voldemort wouldn't be so careless with his horcruxes. The point of a Horcrux is, as Professor Slughorn explained in the memory we saw, to keep part of the self hidden and safe, not to fling it into somebody else's path and run the risk that they might destroy it. And I'm sure that Voldemort had never intended that one of his horcruxes would be planted on some Hogwarts student. He wouldn't be so remarkably blasé about the precious fragment of his soul concealed within it. Therefore, I believe that one of his Death Eaters had been protecting and guarding that horcrux. And this Death Eater, after so many years, believing that his Master wouldn't return, finally decided to dispose of the horcrux. Thus, covertly making it fall into Ginny Weasley's hands."

Orion gazed at him, puzzled. "Do you know who this Death Eater was?"

"I have some suspicions," said Dumbledore impassively, "but no solid proof."

"And you said that Voldemort had a way to possess a body when he had been nothing but a bodiless soul," interjected Orion befuddled, though he had an inkling about what the old man had been referring to - Quirrell- since he remembered how Draco had told him about the strange happenings during the boy's first year at Hogwarts. "What do you mean by that, sir? How's that possible?"

"You shouldn't concern yourself about that matter," said Dumbledore dismissively. "It was something of little relevance that happened at Hogwarts during your first year at Durmstrang. Now, let's get back to the original purpose of our discussion – Voldemort's six horcruxes." He pinned Orion with his gaze, and asked gently, "Would you like to guess what they are?"

"Er… well," said Orion, purposely frowning with pensiveness. "We saw the memory of Tom Riddle visiting Hepzibah Smith. There were two objects there: a Hufflepuff heirloom cup and a locket with an ornate 'S' inscribed on it – a Slytherin heirloom. So Voldemort could have used those objects to create horcruxes." He gazed up at him, his frown intensifying. "Maybe one of those two was the horcrux which influenced Ginevra Weasley-"

"I don't believe it was," interjected Dumbledore quietly. "An eleven-year-old girl carrying either heirloom would have been too noticeable. No, the horcrux which possessed and used Ginny Weasley must have been something ordinary, something a student could have without raising suspicions. If not, the Death Eater wouldn't have disposed of the horcrux by giving it to a student. And that horcrux was used, therefore, we are looking for only five horcruxes now. Nevertheless, I believe you're right. The Hufflepuff Cup and the Slytherin locket must be horcruxes."

"Alright, so we're looking for five horcruxes," said Orion, intentionally making his voice sound desperate and frantic. "And we only know what two of those five can be. But how will we find out what the other three horcruxes are? And how are we supposed to find them? They could be anywhere-"

Dumbledore raised a hand, and said calmly, "There's one other horcrux which I suspect about." He intently pierced Orion with his eyes, and continued, "In the memory we saw, did you notice what Tom Riddle was wearing on his finger?"

Orion inwardly tensed, though outwardly, he pulled a puzzled expression over his features. Dumbledore was at last mentioning the Gaunt ring. But how much was the old coot going to tell him about it?

"I didn't notice anything," replied Orion slowly, his forehead wrinkling with concentration. "Hmm, no. I don't remember seeing anything which captured my attention."

"Didn't you?" said Dumbledore loftily, his gaze boring into Orion's eyes. "Well, perhaps I shouldn't have expected you to be so observant… Tom was wearing a Gaunt heirloom, a ring he stole from his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, when he stupefied him and then went to Riddle House to murder his muggle father and grandparents. After being stupefied, Morfin woke up believing he had murdered the muggle Riddle family, and was thus incarcerated in Azkaban, and died there. Tom had implanted in Morfin's mind the false memories of the murder of the Riddle family. Nevertheless, when Aurors went to apprehend Morfin, he roared and bellowed about a ring that must have been stolen from him."

"A Gaunt heirloom?" said Orion confusedly. "So you think Tom used this ring to make a horcrux? But how can you be certain that the ring that Tom was wearing in the memory we saw is the Gaunt ring that Morfin had? We've never seen any memories about-"

"I have," interjected Dumbledore quietly. "You must excuse me, but I didn't show you a memory I had obtained from a Ministry official. A memory in which Marvolo Gaunt is wearing the ring."

Orion stared at him. Very well, this would be a test for Dumbledore. If the man really wanted to help him, if the wizard's supposed affection and concern for him were real, if his offer was honest, then Dumbledore should show him and tell him.

"And are you going to show me this memory, sir?"

"It's not pertinent, my boy," said Dumbledore gently, warmly smiling at him. "Very little is shown in that memory and I already related it to you. So there's no point in making you see it. The crux of the matter is that I'm certain that the Gaunt ring is a horcrux. Therefore, there are only two of the five horcruxes which we don't know about."

Orion was greatly tempted to let out a sharp, snide chuckle. Or to hit him squarely with a vicious dark curse. Dumbledore would never change. Despite the man's noble and benevolent façade, the old wizard was nothing but a Dark Lord in disguise. Just as sly, manipulative, secretive and sharp. Well, he supposed that Dumbledore was simply a Light Lord, and that as such he only differed from Voldemort in their ideals. Pity, but the old wizard had been given a chance. So, yes, Dumbledore had it coming.

"I will hazard a guess that," continued Dumbledore, "having secured objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, Voldemort set out to track down objects owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Four objects from the four founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over Voldemort's imagination. I cannot answer for whether he ever managed to find anything of Ravenclaw's. I am confident, however, that the only known relic of Gryffindor remains safe."

Orion glanced at the glass case imbedded in the wall behind Dumbledore, besides the perch where Fawkes was currently resting on. "Gryffindor's Sword."

"Precisely," said Dumbledore, shooting him a grandfatherly smile. "Voldemort never managed to get a hold of it. I'm inclined to assume that the fourth horcrux is a Ravenclaw heirloom."

"I see," said Orion, his expression one of eager interest. "And what could the fifth horcrux be?"

"Since I believe that a Ravenclaw heirloom is the fourth horcrux, then the last and fifth horcrux must be something else entirely. So far, we know that Voldemort used heirlooms for his horcruxes – three from Hogwarts' Founders and one from the Gaunt family. Furthermore, the horcrux which possessed and killed Ginny Weasley must have temporarily given her the Parselmouth ability, in order to open the Chamber of Secrets. In such way, that horcrux was a commemoration of Voldemort's Slytherin ancestry and subsequent Parselmouth skill." He pierced Orion with his eyes. "I believe the fifth horcrux was selected with this idea in mind, as well. There were no other heirlooms left to use, thus I think that Voldemort turned his pet snake into a horcrux."

"His pet snake?" mumbled Orion, dumbly blinking at him. Inwardly, he felt a spike of alarm. The old man was certainly too smart for his own good.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Nagini is her name, if my information is correct. And Voldemort rarely keeps her out of his sight. Moreover, in Voldemort's opinion, by turning a snake into his horcrux he would underline the Slytherin connection, which enhances Lord Voldemort's mystique. I think he is perhaps as fond of her as he can be of anything, and he certainly likes to keep her close. His Death Eaters rarely see her."

Orion stared at him confusedly. "I didn't know that animals could be used as horcruxes."

"Well, it is inadvisable to do so," said Dumbledore, "because to confide a part of your soul to something that can think and move for itself is obviously a very risky business. However, if my calculations are correct, Voldemort was still at least one horcrux short of his goal of six when he entered your James Potter's and your mother's house with the intention of killing you. He seems to have reserved the process of making horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. You would certainly have been that. He believed that in killing you, he was destroying the danger the prophecy had outlined. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure that he was intending to make his final horcrux with your death. As we know, he failed. After an interval of some years, however, he came back to life and he must have felt the urgency of making the last and sixth horcrux. Therefore, having already Nagini with him, he must have used her for that purpose."

"So in short," interjected Orion eagerly, and he didn't have to act it since he was quite happy that Dumbledore really didn't suspect what the five current horcruxes were, "the horcrux that killed the Weasley girl was used, and thus, it can be erased from the list. That leaves five horcruxes, which are: Hufflepuff's Cup, the Gaunt family ring, Slytherin's locket, the snake, and something that was once Ravenclaw's."

"An admirably succinct and accurate summary, yes," said Dumbledore. "However, we should not congratulate ourselves too heartily. Our quest is now to find them, and that's the most difficult task."

"Because they could be anywhere, right?" said Orion, pulling a dejected expression over his features. "They could be anywhere in the whole wide world."

"Well, I don't think Voldemort would hide them far away from his own location," interjected Dumbledore calmly. "As you now know, for many years I have made it my business to discover as much as I can about Voldemort's past life. I have traveled widely, visiting those places he once knew." He gazed at him from above his half-moon spectacles. "Some years ago, I stumbled across the Gaunt ring hidden in the ruin of the Gaunt's house. It seemed that once Voldemort had succeeded in sealing a piece of his soul in side it, he did not want to wear it anymore. He hid it, surely protected by many powerful enchantments, in the shack where his ancestors had once lived -Morfin having been carted off to Azkaban, of course- never guessing that anyone might one day take the trouble to visit the ruin."

"So you have the Gaunt ring with you?" said Orion excitedly, his expression so seemingly sincere that he knew that Dumbledore had no way of suspecting that he had been the boy who had stolen the ring right under his nose.

"I don't," replied Dumbledore, intently piercing him with his eyes. "Someone else had visited the Gaunt shack, minutes before me. At first, I thought it was a muggle boy who had accidentally stumbled upon it, searching for something he could later sell. However, we ended up having a short duel since I couldn't allow the boy to leave with the ring. Regrettably, this unknown young wizard escaped with it before I could prevent it. Therefore, I think that the Gaunt ring will be the most difficult horcrux to find and destroy."

"Oh," muttered Orion, blinking at him. "A wizard stole the ring… a Death Eater, perhaps?"

"No, a Death Eater would have no reason to search for a horcrux," said Dumbledore calmly. "And, in the first place, I don't think that any of them know what a horcrux is or that Voldemort has created several. I think this unknown wizard was acting independently - I've vastly wondered about this. Indeed, it's very intriguing."

"It sure is," said Orion with wide eyes. "Perhaps he was a light wizard. Perhaps there's someone out there with our same aim, unwittingly helping us… or perhaps purposely."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, smiling at him, though Orion didn't see any twinkling in the man's eyes. "Regardless, I've been looking for the horcruxes for a very long time. I think I may be close to finding one. There are hopeful signs."

Orion felt a flare of alarm, but he said with studied eagerness, "Really, sir? That's wonderful. I hope that I can be present when you bring it back with you and destroy it. After all, it will be useful for me to see how a horcrux can be destroyed-"

"Yes, it will be very useful for you to know," interrupted Dumbledore calmly, gazing at him with a benevolent expression on his face. "That's why I will take you with me to find the horcrux, once I'm sure of where it is."

"You will?" gasped out Orion, his expression one of cheerful happiness.

Inwardly, he was frantically trying to unravel what the old coot's plans were. How could Dumbledore possibly want to take him in search of a horcrux? The old man now knew for sure that he was on the Dark's side. What was Dumbledore playing at? Being invited to come along was completely unexpected. Furthermore, which horcrux had Dumbledore found?

From the currently real ones, it could only be the Hufflepuff Cup. Certainly not Nagini, the Black necklace that Voldemort wore, or the Slytherin wedding ring which was invisibly set on his finger. It couldn't be Ravenclaw's diadem either, since it was right here at Hogwarts and Dumbledore wouldn't need to go anywhere in other to fetch it. And from the objects that weren't a horcrux anymore, the locket and diary had been used and destroyed, and the Gaunt ring was in the Guild's temporary possession. Therefore, that only left the Hufflepuff Cup… or the false Slytherin locket! Yes, of course, he – Regulus had placed it there… Well, he certainly hoped that it would be the Hufflepuff Cup, since he had no concrete idea of where the Cup was and he would like to steal it if Dumbledore went for it. Nevertheless, he felt very uneasy by Dumbledore's invitation. He didn't have a clue about the man's purposes.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore, smiling warmly. "I think you have earned that right."

"Thank you, sir!" piped in Orion, beaming a wide grin. No, he didn't like this at all. What was Dumbledore playing at?! Damn the old coot and his twisted and convoluted plans!

The headmasters and headmistresses around the walls seemed even less impressed by Dumbledore's decision; Orion saw a few portraits shaking their heads and Phineas Nigellus actually snorted. That caught his attention, and his gaze briefly met his ancestor's, who pointedly speared him with a stare, before going back to sleep as if the proceedings bored him.

Orion sat in thought for a moment, then decided to keep playing his part, even though it left him with a sour taste in his mouth. "So, our mission is to find the five remaining horcruxes and destroy them. Once done, Voldemort could be killed?"

"Yes, I think so," said Dumbledore. "Without his horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. The last horcrux that will be destroyed has to be Nagini, since Voldemort keeps her always by his side. Then, with all his horcruxes gone, you will have to confront and kill Voldemort, thus destroying the seventh piece of soul inside him. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his horcruxes."

"But I haven't got uncommon skill and power," said Orion, his tone of voice purposely humble and dejected.

"Yes, you have," said Dumbledore firmly. "You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can -"

"Love?!" snapped Orion with irritation, inwardly seething that the old man was still insisting on that version of the prophecy – that 'love' was the power that the Dark Lord knew not. Dumbledore really pretended to cast him towards his death, only armed with 'love' in order to confront Voldemort. Merlin's staff, did Dumbledore truly consider him to be so stupidly naïve?

"Yes, Orion, you can love," said Dumbledore sternly. "Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are, Orion."

Orion almost snorted. He was very aware of how 'unusual' he was, more than the old coot could ever fathom.

"So, when the prophecy says that I'll have 'power the Dark Lord knows not', it just means - love?" he asked, appearing to be let down.

"Yes - just love," said Dumbledore gently. "But Orion, never forget that what the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it so. I told you this when we met in Spinner's End, when you stayed there with Professor Snape after your muggle relatives were killed by Voldemort. I further explained to you the meaning of prophecy you heard in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort singled you out as the person who would be most dangerous to him - and in doing so, he made you the person who would be most dangerous to him!"

Orion frowned at him. "I know that. But it comes to the same -"

"No, it doesn't!" said Dumbledore, sounding impatient now. He pointed at Orion with a finger. "You are setting too much store by the prophecy!"

Orion gaped at him, before he clamped his mouth shut. The gall of the man! The old coot was the one who had been pressuring him with the prophecy all this time. Well, pressuring him with the interpretation that Dumbledore gave to the prophecy.

"But," said Orion in clipped tones, "you said the prophecy means that I have to kill Voldemort or that he will kill me. That either him or I have to kill the other-"

Dumbledore pierced him with his eyes, and said adamantly, "If Voldemort had never heard of the prophecy, would it have been fulfilled? Would it have meant anything? Of course not! Do you think every prophecy in the Hall of Prophecies has been fulfilled?"

"But," said Orion, bewildered, "but last year, at Spinner's End, you said one of us would have to kill the other-"

"My dear boy," interrupted Dumbledore vehemently, "only because Voldemort made a grave error, and acted on Professor Trelawney's words! If Voldemort had never murdered your mother, would he have imparted in you a desire for revenge? Of course not! If your father had not been forced to take the Dark Mark to protect you from Voldemort, would you have lost your father when he was apprehended by Aurors and Kissed for being an Azkaban escapee and a Death Eater? Would you have suffered due to your father's death? Would you have further despised Voldemort for it? Of course not, Orion! Would the Dursley have been killed by Voldemort, leaving you without any other direct relatives? No! Don't you see? Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back! Voldemort is no different! Always he was on the lookout for the one who would challenge him. He heard the prophecy and he leapt into action, with the result that he handpicked the man most likely to finish him - you!"

Orion could hardly believe what he was hearing. He didn't blame Voldemort for what had happened to Sirius! Dumbledore had been there as well – Dumbledore had done nothing when the Aurors captured his father, the old man didn't lift a finger even when Severus had told him that Pettigrew had been alive! Furthermore, Dumbledore could not honestly believe that he hated Voldemort because the wizard had killed the Dursleys. That had been a blessing, and unbeknownst to the old man, he had killed Vernon himself. Moreover, he had no idea why the old coot was spouting this nonsense all of a sudden.

"But -"

"It is essential that you understand this!" said Dumbledore loudly, standing up and striding about the room, his glittering robes swooshing in his wake - Orion had never seen him so agitated. "By attempting to kill you, Voldemort himself singled out the remarkable person who sits here in front of me! You and he are alike, and he wanted to persuade you to his side, but ultimately, you did the right thing and turned away from him. In the end, with Professor Snape's guidance, you understood some of your past mistakes and you didn't allow yourself to be completely seduced to the Dark's side, even though you study the Dark Arts at Durmstrang. And never, for a second, did you show the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort's servants, even though I know that you must have been tempted to do so, given the dark pureblood upbringing you had during your years at Durmstrang and during your interlude with the Malfoys as your guardians. Despite the Dark influences in your life, you never bowed to Voldemort! And you chose the right path due to your ability to love those around you! That's the only thing that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort's!"

Orion wanted to yell – this was all rubbish, and surely Dumbledore knew it! Nymphadora had told the old coot that he had still visited Riddle Manor. Oh, no, he hadn't bowed to Voldemort - he had repeatedly shagged the Dark Lord! And even if Dumbledore didn't know that, the old man certainly knew that he had been very close to Voldemort. He simply didn't understand where Dumbledore wanted to go with this.

"But, sir," said Orion, making valiant efforts to appear as if he bought all the nonsense, while he tried to direct the conversation in order to understand what was going on, "it all comes to the same thing, doesn't it? I've got to try and kill him, or-"

"Got to? Of course you've got to!" cried Dumbledore, and Fawkes squawked out of his peaceful dozing at the outburst. "But not because of the prophecy!" He tightly grasped Orion's shoulders -who stared up at him with startled, wide eyes- and said vehemently, "The prophecy does not mean you have to do anything. You are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But beware, because even though Voldemort has lately shown no wish to kill you, it doesn't mean that he won't. He heard the prophecy and he believes in it. He will never stop hunting you, my boy, until he makes sure that he's the survivor and the one in control. Maybe, he'll force you to become his servant, but just as likely he might have a future reason to kill you. And you have the choice of killing him before he does! It's the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high and with a steely determination in the choice you made on your own. The prophecy means nothing! But your choice does. Do you understand?"

Orion numbly nodded, and the only thought that frantically reverberated in his mind was 'He knows, he knows, he knows…' And indeed, Orion finally understood why Dumbledore was saying all those things to him. The old coot had an inkling about the real interpretation of the prophecy, and Dumbledore didn't want him to follow it – voicing this without saying it, the warning implicit, but not straightforward since Dumbledore was probably unsure about how much he knew. But one thing was clear: the old man didn't want him to be successful in killing a Dark Lord.

Dumbledore wanted him to die, so that the piece of soul inside him would be destroyed. Thus, so that Voldemort could be killed by Dumbledore himself. Also, the old goat wanted him to disregard the prophecy, perhaps knowing that he knew what it truly meant regarding the power he would obtain if he killed a Dark Lord, to thus set himself on the path of having all the Hallows and becoming the Vindico… Yes, that was why Dumbledore was telling him that he didn't have to go along with what the prophecy foretold…. But just how much did Dumbledore suspect about the real interpretation of the prophecy? He fiercely and frenziedly wanted to demand answers from the old coot, but he couldn't. Not now, or he would destroy his flimsy cover as a Light-sympathizer.

He barely heard what Dumbledore said to him - something about letting him know when they would go out to fetch a horcrux. He barely paid any attention at all while he was dismissed from the old wizard's office. And his mind was buzzing with a myriad of confused thoughts while he made his way towards Gryffindor's Tower.

Simply put, he was out of his depth – he didn't remotely comprehend the intricacies of whatever Dumbledore was planning. There were too many hidden secrets between them, their conversations a convoluted game of speaking without revealing too much, of implicit innuendoes and offerings of allegiance, of half-truths and veiled persuasions… In the end, he couldn't decipher what was on Dumbledore's mind. There were only a few things he knew for certain: that Dumbledore would use him to search and destroy the horcruxes, that the old goat was prepared to stand by his side to kill Voldemort, that he was supposed to valiantly sacrifice his life so that the piece of soul inside him was destroyed, and finally, that even though Dumbledore might care for him in some measure, the old man's priority was to see Voldemort dead. Therefore, Dumbledore considered him to be an ally in the quest of destroying the horcruxes. But that would only be temporarily, since it was patently clear to Orion that Dumbledore was nothing more than his enemy.

* * *

"Speak," said Orion sharply, aggravated and tired.

He was sitting on the toilet seat, behind the closed and spelled door of the bathroom stall of his Gryffindor dormitory. And he had Phineas Nigellus' miniaturized portrait in his hands, who was darkly scowling at him.

"That's no way to greet your ancestor, young man," said Phineas indignantly, sternly glaring at him. "I care not if you're the Head of Black House, you will watch your tone with me, or-"

"Or what?" interjected Orion, arching an eyebrow.

Phineas shot him a malevolent glare, and huffed, before he viciously smirked. "Or I will ask Walburga to set Kreacher on you. That's a very nasty little house-elf, isn't it? Could make your life miserable-"

"He can't," scoffed Orion utterly unfazed. "I'm the Head of Black House and Kreacher has to obey me, first and foremost, even over his Mistress."

"Well, don't get high and mighty with me or I'll return to my portrait in the old man's office," said Phineas crisply. "It was you who unearthed this portrait from your school trunk and called me – after ages of not talking to me, or caring how I was doing."

"You're a portrait, for Merlin's sake," interjected Orion impatiently. "You're always doing fine, Phineas. So spare me the dramatics. I'm tired and I had a long day-"

Phineas loudly snorted, eyeing him reprovingly. "I dare say that you had a long day. What were you doing with the old goat, young man? Plotting about destroying the Dark Lord's horcruxes? Have you taken a leave of all your senses?! What kind of spouse are you that-"

"You know that I was simply playing along with Dumbledore," interrupted Orion shortly, feeling his tiredness feeding his irritation. "I was trying to discern what the old coot is planning. And I'm still trying to do so. I'm flummoxed, to tell you the truth. And you pointedly stared at me, back in the office, because you obviously know something. So spill."

"I don't like how you're turning out," grumbled Phineas, glowering at him. "You used to be such a polite boy. You used to respect your elders and ancestors."

Orion heavily sighed. "Fine, I apologize. Now, please, esteemed and revered ancestor, will you please tell me whatever it is you have to say to me?"

"No need to get cheeky, young man," snapped Phineas with a huff. "But I will tell you, only because I want to get back to sleep." He pierced Orion with his dark grey eyes, and said conspiratorially, "The old man discovered the location of one horcrux, two weeks ago. I saw him muttering and planning one late night." He widely smirked. "Furthermore, I know how a hocrux can be destroyed. Dumbledore mumbled about it. You see, he likes to speak to those silver, puffing gadgets of his, because some of them are used to focus your thoughts and ideas, and-"

"Yeah, that's very interesting," said Orion impatiently. "But I don't see how this is relevant. Do you know which horcrux it is? Do you know its precise location?"

"No," replied Phineas sharply. "As I told you, the old man was merely planning and mumbling. But I do know that he'll go for it soon. Moreover, the important issue is that Dumbledore knows how a horcrux can be destroyed: with basilisk poison, fiendfyre, or the Gryffindor swo-"

"Fiendfyre?" said Orion quickly, intently staring at the portrait. "Are you sure about that?"

"It's what I'm telling you, isn't it?" snapped Phineas short-tempered. "Dumbledore discovered that a few weeks ago, in some obscure book." He regally waved a hand, and said importantly, "Not that I didn't already know about that. I, myself, studied the obscurest and most secretive of Dark Arts and I know everything there is to know about horcruxes-"

"Of course you do," said Orion with dry amusement, knowing that his ancestor had been utterly clueless about the subject, before hearing it from him and Dumbledore. He tapped a finger on his lips pensively. "Fiendfyre, you say… Well, that's good to know. So there are only three methods, then: to use basilisk poison, the fiendfyre spell, or a powerful Light artifact like Gryffindor's sword, which already has basilisk poison imbued on its blade…"

"Exactly," interjected Phineas curtly, piercing him with narrowed eyes. "And you, young man, must stop Dumbledore from destroying your spouse's horcruxes."

"Voldemort isn't my spouse anymore," said Orion dismissively.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What you heard," said Orion impatiently. "The Dark Lord is going to sever the marital bond between us. And good riddance to him, I dare say. I'm looking forward to be free and enjoy a break after I'm 'divorced'."

"Absolutely not!" spat Phineas with indignant anger, looking quite unsettled and fierce. "Purebloods do not 'divorce'! That's a thing for filthy muggles, and I won't have you besmirching the honor of Black House by severing your marital union with him. It's unheard of in our circles! It would be a stain in our noble history, a scandal for Black House, a debasement of the Black name and bloodline. And you will not bring down Black House's unparalleled social standing by doing something so contemptible and infamous. You will not allow your union with the Dark Lord to be broken! Do I make myself clear, young man?!"

"I get your point," replied Orion coolly. "But I _will_ allow it to happen. It's beneficial for me. Moreover, Black House will not lose its standing or honor because of it, Phineas. I'm powerful and influential enough, so I will not lose face. And I don't want to discuss this subject any further. Besides, the point is that I will stop Dumbledore from destroying any horcrux. So if this is all, I'll bid you goodnight-"

"This is not all!" snapped Phineas angrily, darkly scowling at him. "I firmly and resolutely object to the rupture of the union between the Dark Lord and you! And I will bring this up to Arcturus and Walburga-"

Orion scoffed. "Do tell them. Arcturus' portrait hasn't said a word to me in ages, but I know he silently witnessed several things which are much more important – like how Sirius is alive." He eyed Phineas, and added with scorn and bitterness, "And do tell my _loving_ mother, but I'll viciously hex Kreacher if she sends him to annoy me with her complaints."

And he immediately pocketed the miniaturized portrait, hearing Phineas' muffled voice yelling and demanding answers, while he stood up to leave the bathroom. In his way, he briefly halted in his steps, and blinked. Mother… He had called Walburga 'mother' and he had called his father 'Sirius'… Well, he had done it unwittingly, and those slips of the tongue were something which frequently happened to him. Indeed, nowadays he always called his father 'Sirius' instead of 'Dad', and once he had almost said 'brother'. But he was no longer worried about it.

He had absorbed as his own the recollections of his past lifes, even if more of them had been halted by Vagnarov's block. Moreover, he did think of himself as Regulus Black, whenever he mused about the wizard and remembered his life. Actually, he thought of himself as Sextus Black and all the others as well. But it no longer fazed him. He had finally accepted it calmly. And in a strange way, he felt that the recollections of those lives completed him somehow – letting him know who he had been, and more importantly, what kind of wizard he had been. Always dark, often vicious and ruthless, and very infrequently a victim. And there was also a personality-wise pattern. As far as he could recall, he had started as a very cold, fierce, unscrupulous and powerful wizard, then somehow slowly mellowed through the ages into someone like Regulus, just to remerge as himself – a Vindico candidate, very powerful. And, in personality, also a combination between those opposite ends; between Regulus Black and that first reincarnation he vaguely and hazily remembered from a memory. And, all in all, he felt satisfied with the apparent progression of his soul's rebirths.

* * *

Five days had passed by since his meeting with Dumbledore, and Orion was currently in his bedroom in Potter Manor. He had apparated there from Black Manor, after disapparating from the Chamber of Secrets, as usual. He had come in to leave his stuff before going in search of Grindelwald to have one of their training sessions. That was before he had caught the reflection of himself on the full-bodied mirror. He was now staring into it.

His eyes were bleary with exhaustion and his face was pale, and he could even feel his tiredness seeping into every muscle of his body. Furthermore, he often felt dizzy and nauseous, and had a hard task in keeping his lunch in his stomach. He frequently resorted to drinking chamomile and ginger tea, to settle down his stomach. It was clear that the potion he was daily imbibing would lead him to an early grave if he didn't stop taking it soon.

But in his reflection, he had also noticed something else. There was a faint stubble above his upper lip and along his jaw-line. That was a first for him. It seemed that he was a late bloomer in facial hair. And his skin prickled uncomfortably and his lips twitched. He reached out a finger to touch his stubble – it felt somewhat soft, not coarse or rough, but it was annoying and gave him an untidy appearance.

Orion glanced at the items that Daisy had fetched for him. There, besides the full-bodied mirror, on top of a chest of drawers, was a silver basin filled with water, two moist and warm towels with the Potter crest, and an antique-looking razor that the late elder Potter, James' father, had used in his days. There was also some sort of foaming cream that Daisy had told him to use, along with a pot with some pleasant-smelling ointment that he had to apply on his face, later.

Quite frankly, he was a bit reluctant. He would rather ask Sirius to be the taught a spell for shaving. But he had inquired after his father, and Daisy had told him that the wizard was ensconced in the master study of Potter Manor, behind doors spelled locked. There was no doubt in his mind that Sirius was in one of his depressed moods. So he had decided to leave the wizard alone. And he didn't want to go in search of Grindelwald looking like he did. Moreover, he was much too tired to search for a spell in Potter Manor's vast library.

Therefore, with a heavy sigh, Orion carelessly applied the cream on his face and grasped the razor. The instant he inched its blade towards his face, his wrist was suddenly grasped.

Startled, Orion's eyes snapped up to the full-bodied mirror, and he saw Grindelwald standing behind him, the wizard's reflected hawk-like gaze inspecting him with amusement.

"Do you actually know what you're doing, mein junge?" said Grindelwald, crookedly smirking at him.

"Not really," said Orion dryly. "I didn't hear you come in. You move too stealthily when you want to, old man. How did you know that I was in the Manor?"

"I felt you the moment you apparated in," replied Grindelwald dismissively, as he shifted to stand directly behind Orion, pressing his chest on Orion's back.

Orion blinked. "What do you mean that you felt - Oh, never mind. There's no need for you to stay. I'll look for you once I'm done."

"And risk that you might seriously injure yourself?" scoffed Grindelwald. "Nein, I'll teach you how it's done. I, myself, prefer to shave the old way. It lasts longer than if you use some spell." He widely smirked, and wrapped an arm over Orion's chest to trail a finger along Orion's jaw line. "Though you barely have anything there, mein junge."

Orion scowled at the wizard's reflection. "If you're going to mock me-"

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Grindelwald toothily grinning, while he splat more cream on Orion's face, slowly spreading it. "Now, be absolutely still and watch how it's done in the mirror."

"Alright," grumbled Orion, relinquishing the razor to the wizard's grasp.

Grindelwald tightened his arm around Orion's chest, and used that hand to grasp Orion's chin, making him rest his head on the older wizard's shoulder, with his neck stretched and arched backwards. Thus, Orion could only see what the wizard did by gazing into the mirror with half-lidded eyes cast down.

"You're trusting me to do this," said Grindelwald conversationally, sliding the razor's blade along Orion's left cheek, in short and clipped sweeps. "And you're a fool because of it." He halted his movements, and left the razor pressed against Orion's neck. He bore his hazel gaze into Orion's reflected eyes, and murmured while he pressed the blade a bit deeper, "Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you right now, mein junge? A swift cut through your throat, and you would bleed to death in a few seconds."

Orion had immediately tensed in startled alarm, yet he couldn't move a single muscle. His eyes frantically widened. Grindelwald's arm across his chest trapped him, but he couldn't move. And given his strength, he should be able to shove the German wizard away. No, the wizard must have surreptitiously cast a wandless immobilizing spell on his body. And he hadn't even noticed it.

"What are you playing at?" spat Orion angrily, though he didn't show how stunned and unsettled he was. He immediately discovered that he could move his head, so he snapped it back against the wizard's shoulder, to side-glance at him with narrowed and furious eyes, while he felt drops of blood trickling from the point of contact between his neck and the razor's blade. "What are you doing, Gellert?!"

Grindelwald gazed down into Orion's eyes, jerkily tightening his grip on Orion's chin, almost nose-to-nose with him, as he whispered, "I told you, repeatedly, that you can never trust anyone." His lips curved into a smirk, and he murmured into Orion's ear, "Do you have any idea of how tempted I am right now, mein junge? You lowered your guard with me, and you're helpless in my arms. I could kill you in the bat of an eyelash. Yes… I could kill you and your dark magic would come to me… It would be absorbed into my inner magical core, and I could reemerge as a Dark Lord… I could contact my former followers and instantly gain the loyalty of their children and grandchildren. I could raise up a mighty army in a month, and I could kill Voldemort and be the only Dark Lord left… I would have the Hallows currently in your possession, and I would obtain the Elder Wand." His smirk widened, and his piercing gaze into Orion's eyes intensified. "And then, I could undergo the Vindico test, and I would survive it, since I would have your magic and Voldemort's already inside me."

"What the bloody hell?!" yelled Orion furiously. "Release me, Gellert, or I will use my dark magic against you! Release me - NOW!"

Orion winced when he felt the razor's blade piercing his skin again, drawing out more trickles of blood, while he saw Grindelwald's fingers grasping the razor jerkily.

"I told you that you had to kill me soon," whispered Grindelwald sharply, pinning Orion's face in place by painfully tightening his grip on Orion's chin, making Orion's neck arch tautly. "I told you that the pull of my magic would affect me the moment you broke me out of my Nurmengard cell. I told you that it would increasingly affect me during every the weeks and months of my freedom. I was serious about that. Do you understand now, mein junge?"

"I do!" spat Orion irately. "And this is a very sick way of showing it to me. I get it, alright – I get it! I have to kill you soon, before you are tempted to kill me in order to garner power."

Grindelwald widely smirked down at him, and removed the razorblade from Orion's neck. "Precisely, mein junge. You cannot dally in your duty to me."

"Fine," snapped Orion hotly. "Now cancel the spell you casted on my body and leave me the fuck alone. I'll shave myself."

"Nein, I will still do that, and you'll learn how to do it," said Grindelwald impassively. "We have a number of things to discuss in the meanwhile."

"I will not let you use that razor on me again," spluttered Orion angrily.

"You will. Now hush, observe and listen," said Grindelwald quietly, while he sunk the blade into the water in the silver basin, before he brought it up again to raze Orion's jaw in precise and swift sweeps. "Look into the mirror to see how it's done – don't make me lose my patience with you, mein junge."

Orion darkly and furiously glared at him, before he glanced at his and reflection and Grindelwald's. The wizard was actually crookedly smirking at him now, while he continued to shave him.

"See how it's done?" said Grindelwald pleasantly. "It's fairly simple, mein junge. Short, clipped moves, controlling the precision of the blade against the skin…" He forced Orion's neck to arch tautly even further. "The neck must be stretched when shaving it… the skin needs to be smooth… Ah, and there, we're almost done…"

The wizard dropped the razor into the silver basin and swiftly draped a moist and warm towel on Orion's face, gently sweeping it along to remove the cream and any traces of cut hair. With pot in hand, he sunk two fingers into the ointment and wrapped an arm around Orion's chest once again, as he applied it with soft touches on Orion's cheeks, neck, jaw line and on the tender area above the upper lip.

Orion exhaled, Grindelwald's touches calming him down while the ointment felt pleasant and fresh, soothing his slightly sore skin.

"There - it wasn't that bad, was it?"

Suddenly, Orion felt a tingle around his body, and he instantly wheeled around and shoved Grindelwald away from him.

"You twisted bastard!" he spat, glaring at the man who stumbled a step back. "If you wanted me to know how you were being affected by your pull, you could have simply told me, Gellert! Besides, the deal was that I would kill you after I had killed Dumbledore-"

"The deal was that you would kill me once you obtained the Elder Wand," interrupted Grindelwald sharply. "Albus' death is not a requisite."

"Same thing," said Orion crisply, scowling at him. "I will kill the old goat to get the Elder Wand."

"As you like," interjected Grindelwald coolly. "But my point is that that _was_ the deal between us. It isn't any longer." He pierced him with his hazel eyes, and said sharply, "I can no longer promise that I won't kill you. I can no longer ascertain how much my pull will further affect me. I was being honest, mein junge. I'm very tempted at present to go back to my old ways. And that's not something I want. Thus, you will kill me as soon as possible - whether you have obtained the Elder Wand or not. You don't need my training anymore. At present, you're perfectly able to defeat Dumbledore, if you put your efforts on it."

Orion clenched his jaw and instantly whipped out his wand, pointing it straight at the old wizard, as he demanded briskly, "Do you want me to kill you right now, Gellert?"

"Ja," said Grindelwald, crookedly smirking at him. "I'm ready, mein junge."

"Well, go to hell, because I'm not-"

"You must!" snarled Grindelwald, angrily narrowing his eyes at him. "Despite temptations, I don't want to regain my former days of glory. I told you that the only reason why I wanted to be free was to train you. And I have done my part. Your training is complete. These last months, we have merely reviewed dark curses and you have merely practiced further how to use your dark magic in its wild and pure state. There's nothing left for me to teach you."

"But you said you had something to tell me," interjected Orion crisply. "You said it was important."

"Ja, it is," said Grindelwald in a steely tone of voice. "That's why I'm going to tell you about it now. But only after you tell me exactly when you're going to kill me – and it must be soon, mein junge."

Orion lowered his wand and carded a finger through his hair, while he said quietly, "Fine. Let's sit down, then."

Grindelwald curtly nodded and swiftly spread himself elegantly on a plush couch, in the sitting area at one side of Orion's bed. Meanwhile, Orion had swiped the unused towel along his neck, gazing at the mirror to discover that the small cuts that Grindelwald had made along his throat had already healed, leaving no scars behind.

Then, he sat on a couch across from the old wizard, and intently gazed at him. "You say there's nothing left for you to do. What about Sirius? You were teaching him how to-"

"I've been training your father," interrupted Grindelwald coolly, "for over four weeks, ten hours a day. He masters Occlumency as much as he ever will. Moreover, the compulsion mind web you casted on him will do the rest of the work. You have nothing to fear. Your father won't be able to slip anything about you if he goes to Dumbledore and the Order to spy for you. He's ready. Furthermore, I made him practice countless dark curses, and he's gotten fairly good at them. Which was no surprise." His lips quirked upwards. "He is a Black, after all. A renegade Black, but still a dark wizard due to his blood. That's something I think he's already aware that he'll be unable to ignore, as much as he tries."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it," said Orion in clipped tones. "But your usefulness to me hasn't expired. I could still use you to-"

"As much as I enjoy being used by you, mein junge," said Grindelwald, shooting him a toothy grin, "I will have to refuse. You're not going to annoy me with any other wizards that you ask me to train, if that was the idea you had in mind."

"It wasn't that," said Orion nonchalantly. He widely smirked at him. "Actually, I want to reveal your existence to Durmstrang's students."

One of Grindelwald's eyebrows shot upwards, before he let out a crow of rambunctious laughter, slapping his knee with a hand. "Mein Bart, excellent idea, mein junge! Indeed, I would vastly enjoy it." He loudly chuckled, shaking his head with amusement. "I can already see it… You want to present me to them, as your supporter, your mentor, your ally even… Ja, stupendous way of solidifying your leadership. No doubt that you will reveal the glorious way in which you freed me from Nurmengard…"

"Exactly."

"Gut, very gut," said Grindelwald, broadly smirking at him. "I accept." His eyes hardened and he pierced Orion with his hawk-like gaze. "But only if it's done soon, and if you kill me immediately after. It would be spectacular if you killed me before them, but I'm afraid that I want it to be a private matter between us. Nevertheless, I will tell them that I'm dying for you. That ought to be enough."

"Alright," said Orion quietly. "Now tell me this important bit of information you have been dangling in front of me."

"Nein," interjected Grindelwald sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "Stop dallying around the issue and tell me once and for all when you're going to kill me. Only then, will I reveal to you that information."

Orion sighed, and gazed up at him. "After school lets out. It's only two weeks from now. So the day after school year is over, I'll take you to Durmstrang so that we can meet with the student body. Then, as you asked of me, I promise that I'll kill you."

"Even if you don't have the Elder Wand?" demanded Grindelwald sharply. "Even if you haven't killed Albus?"

"I will have killed the old coot by then!"

"Answer me!" snapped Grindelwald impatiently. "You must kill me, regardless. So give me your word that you'll do it."

"Fine," said Orion crisply, scowling at him. "You have my word, Gellert. I will kill you two days after school ends. One day after I reveal your existence to Durmstrang's students."

"Gut, it's a deal, then," said Grindelwald, toothily grinning while he comfortably stretched back on his couch.

Orion glared at him with annoyance. "The information, Gellert."

The wizard widely smirked, and spread out a hand. "Accio treatise!"

In a few moments, a thin booklet came shooting into the room, right into Grindelwald's hand, and the wizard tossed it to him. Deftly, Orion caught it in mid air, and glanced down at it, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

"Ja," said Grindelwald with a crowing chuckle. "It has quite a catching title, doesn't it? 'Treatise on Wizard superiority over Muggles. By Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore'. Published in 1899 into general wizarding circulation. Winner of the Barnabus Award for Ground-Breaking Contribution to the Wizarding World. And Albus was turning eighteen when he wrote it."

"Dumbledore wrote this? About wizards being superiors to muggles?" choked out Orion with wide eyes, while he flipped the pages and scanned what was written there.

Grindelwald smirked at him with the air of someone extremely pleased and satisfied. "Ja, indeed he did. It must seem to you to be quite hypocritical of Albus, correct?"

"Of course," snapped Orion, his gaze not leaving the pages of opened booklet. "I can't believe it! He has some nerve… always spouting to me his muggle-loving ideals, and he wrote something like this! … I have to read this-"

"No need for you to do so," interjected Grindelwald conversationally. "I can tell you exactly what's written there. In short, Albus expresses the same ideas that dark wizards have concerning muggles. Oh, it's a very detailed and well-researched treatise. A systematic exposition and methodical discussion of the facts and principles involved to ascertain that we, wizards, are indeed biologically superior to muggles. He even came up with a name for our kind, out of some muggle scientific term… It's quite amusing. He concludes that wizards are a whole different species, separate from the muggle one. We are, in his printed words 'Homo sapiens magus' – 'magus' for the Latin word for 'magical'. Muggles are simply 'Homo sapiens sapiens', if I remember correctly. I never understood why Albus chose to categorize our kind using a scientific muggle term, but there it is. And he even drew out and employed the evolutionary theories of a famous muggle – Darwin, I think the name was. You see, according to what Albus discovered, we wizards are the next evolutionary step, and muggles are merely a retrograde species which will eventually extinguish, since we are superior to them - biologically, given that we have magic contained in our blood. Magic which we can yield, magic which is controlled a by portion of our brain which muggle brains don't, and can't, use."

"And what about magical creatures?" said Orion, deeply interested.

"Ah, well, in that treatise there's an intricate and detailed categorization for every being of the Magical World," replied Grindelwald, with a wide smirk. "Pureblooded creatures, like Chimeras, Sphinxes, Gryphons, Basilisks, Dragons, and the sort, are 'sapiens' since they are intelligent beings. But Albus didn't peg them as 'Homo', since they are not humans. On the other hand, half-breeds, who are part creature and part human, like werewolves and vampires, are part of our 'Homo sapiens magus' species but they are a subspecies of it. And…Hmm, well, Albus got it wrong in that instance, because he wrote that Dementors were also creatures. He certainly didn't know at that time that Dementors had first been Necromancers. But I'm sure he must know by now." His smirk widened, and he said conspiratorially, "But that's not the most important part. Albus wrote, and admitted, that there's a fundamental biological difference between dark and light wizards. Of course, we, dark wizards, have always believed so, since the magic in our veins is different from that of light wizards. Therefore, dark and light wizards are a different race all together. A different race which can however breed together without any physical impediments, just like they can breed with muggles, yielding half-bloods and such of less purity. In the same way that wizards can also breed with half-breed creatures like vampires and veelas."

Orion stared at him, and demanded shortly, "What about muggleborns? What did Albus write about them?"

"Ja, there comes the tricky part," said Grindelwald, his tone casual though his features had darkened with disapproval. "According to Albus' research and writing, mudbloods are a different species all together, neither 'homo sapiens magus' –us- or 'homo sapiens sapiens' –muggles-. Instead, they are the evolutionary in-between muggles and wizards." He widely smirked. "But, he did admit that mudbloods don't spring up because they came from a muggle bloodline which, at some point, had bred with some wizard or squib. No, Albus clearly expressed that mudbloods pop up quite inexplicably. As a sort of biological mutation along muggle bloodlines, and not due to the crossing of someone magical with a muggle – that would produce halfbloods and such, but not a mudblood. Furthermore, his research concludes that crossings between someone of our species -be it a dark or light wizard- with a mudblood -who is from a different species all together- would weaken the magical power of the offspring. And that the magic in the subsequent offspring would be eventually diminished to a point in which the resulting child would not have any light or dark magic in him, but, rather, he would have a mudblood's type of magic."

Orion snapped the booklet shut, his jaw clenched, and he gritted out, "So Dumbledore basically wrote the same that Slytherin had discovered! And what dark wizards believe in, too – though some believe it in a rather vague manner, without knowing about the solid evidence that back their beliefs. And, for Merlin's staff, Voldemort himself told me that he thought that wizards are an evolved species, and that muggles would be exterminated and extinguished because they were the less evolved human beings."

"Well, your Dark Lord was right, also according to our young Albus," said Grindelwald, shooting him a wide, crooked smirk. "Yet, Albus didn't get his facts from any book of Slytherin's, of course. After all, Albus is no Parselmouth and he couldn't have read Slytherin's journals, even if he had somehow found them – which he didn't. It's just that Albus' research comes to the same conclusions that Salazar Slytherin's did."

"And yet," said Orion crisply, "Dumbledore upholds the Light's misguided ideas regarding this." He angrily waved the booklet in his hand. "How is it that light wizards don't know about this? How is it that they still believe that nothing bad comes from mixing their lines with muggles and muggleborns?"

"Because dear Albus pulled his treatise out of circulation just months after it was published," said Grindelwald loftily. "And from there forth, he supported the Light's ideals with such determined fierceness, that most people eventually forgot about what Albus had written and retracted from. Indeed, your chief house-elf was hard tasked when I asked her to find a copy of Albus' treatise. She eventually found this one in a dusty, obscure, and tiny bookshop in wizarding Bucharest."

Orion narrowed his eyes at him. "You sent Daisy?"

"Oh, relax, mein junge," scoffed Grindelwald, waving his hand dissmissively. "I explicitly told her to never reveal that she was a Potter Manor house-elf. She didn't tell anyone who her Master is, and she obviously didn't say that I had sent her. So the secret that Potter Manor is currently in your hold, and that you have Potter blood, is still well kept."

"Good," said Orion with a relieved sigh. He glanced down at the treatise with a dark scowl on his face, and muttered, "I still don't understand how Dumbledore could write this, obviously believing in the results of his research, just to completely turn against it afterwards." He glanced up at Grindelwald, frowning. "Did Dumbledore truly change his mind? Did he discover something in his research that made him believe that what he wrote in this booklet was incorrect?"

Grindelwald casually stretched against his couch, and said placidly, "Did Albus change his mind? Ja, he did. Did Albus discover in subsequent researches that he had been wrong? Nein, he didn't." He intently pierced Orion with his eyes, and gestured at the booklet. "The conclusions of that treatise are irrefutably correct. Albus knows this. He knows this very well. He didn't decide to change his opinions due to any subsequent discovery. He changed his mind for personal reasons. Because he didn't want this information to be known by the general public. Because he knew the havoc it would cause. He knew that mudbloods would be marginalized, and that muggles would be hold in contempt, as inferior beings should be."

"Dumbledore knows that this is true," said Orion, jabbing a finger into the booklet, "and he has purposely hidden it from the wizarding world all this time? Since 1900?"

"Since 1899."

Orion stared at him with wide eyes, and snapped, "Why?! Just so that he can protect faceless muggles and muggleborns? Protect them from what – exactly?!" He carded his fingers through his hair, and bit out, "Fine, I grant you that pureblooded wizards would have scorned muggleborns even further, but some measure could have been taken to abate the ill-will towards them. After all, muggleborns can't be blamed for having been born muggleborns – it's not their fault! And Dumbledore has been in an influential position for decades. He could have been the Minister of Magic, if he had wanted so. Therefore, he could have let this treatise be known, and still find some appropriate measure to protect muggleborns, and to make wizards see that the problem isn't in muggleborns themselves but in wizards' decisions to have children with them. If wizards don't want the magic of their bloodlines to dwindle, they must simply not marry a muggleborn or muggle. It's as simple as that. Muggleborns can still marry between them and with muggles. So any reason Dumbledore could have had to conceal the truth from the wizarding world is completely invalid. Wizards deserve to know the consequences of breeding with muggleborns and muggles, and it should be their decision to do so under their own risk. And I don't see how Dumbledore could have changed his mind so quickly. Was he always a muggle-lover, even when he had his own evidence that wizards are superior to muggles?"

"Albus, a muggle-lover?" scoffed Grindelwald. He bore his hazel eyes into Orion's, and said conversationally, "Albus was never a muggle-lover. He actually hated them with a passion."

Orion gaped at him, before he clamped his mouth shut and fixedly stared at him. "Hated them - what do you mean?"

"Very well, mein junge," said Grindelwald quietly, leveling him with a serious gleam in his eyes. "This is what I wanted to reveal to you. Some parts of Albus' past, and the circumstances which shaped him when he was young, and some others which changed him afterwards. And listen to me carefully, for this important. You will be able to use this information against him." He shot him a wide smirk, and said loftily, "But first, I want a drink."

Orion's highly attentive expression was wiped out from his face, and he snapped, miffed, "You must be kidding, Gellert! Don't keep me on tenterhooks."

"I want a drink – my favorite one," demanded Grindelwald sharply.

"Fine," muttered Orion, shooting him an irritated glare before he snapped his fingers. "Daisy!"

The moment the tiny and commanding house-elf popped before him, he said quickly, "A tumbler of Ogden's Firewhiskey for me and a Kristakoff's Aged Scotch for this annoying old man."

Without a word, the efficient chief house-elf disappeared with a 'pop', and in a few seconds a silver tray appeared on top of the low table between their couches. Grindelwald shot him a wide smirk as he swiftly grasped his tumbler of scotch, while Orion darkly grumbled under his breath, before he took a small sip of his firewhiskey.

"Well?" said Orion impatiently.

Grindelwald contently sighed as his lips left his tumbler of scotch, and he nursed it in his hands, while he said coolly, "I met Albus when I was sixteen years old –your age- and when he was about to turn eighteen." He toothily grinned. "Ja, I'm younger than him. It shows, doesn't it? Why, I know that I look like a forty-year-old wizard in his prime-"

"Get to the point," gritted out Orion, his eyebrow twitching with vexation.

"You're very short-tempered lately," pointed out Grindelwald with a scoff, and he took another sip from his scotch, before he speared Orion with a piercing gaze. "Very well. It was 1899, precisely during the time that Albus was finishing writing his treatise, and during my summer holidays. There are rumors which say that I was then expelled from Durmstrang. That's obviously not the truth. I had, however, decided to ignore what the Spirits wanted from me, and I already had many 'friends' at Durmstrang whom I knew that would follow me whenever I asked it of them. Therefore, I had taken my PRIMEs a full year beforehand, during my sixth year at Durmstrang." He quirked an eyebrow. "Actually, mein junge, that's exactly what you should do as well, since you want to become the Vindico. You don't have time to spare, and you shouldn't waste next year by going to class. Ask Vagnarov to sit for the PRIMEs as soon as possible, so that you can already be a graduated Durmstrang student."

"You want me to take my PRIMEs now?" said Orion disbelievingly. "On top of everything else I have to do?"

"Don't tell me you haven't started revising a year in advance?" interjected Grindelwald with a stern glint in his eyes. "PRIMEs are not easy, mein junge."

"Of course I've been revising," bit out Orion with irritation. "Anyone smart studies for them a year in advance. And even Hermione is revising for her NEWTs, though I dare say that she's the only one in Gryffindor who's studying. The others don't bother because they merely think about how they have a whole year left. Anyway, if I'm too busy next year with my goals, then I'll simply skip seventh year-"

"Skip?" interrupted Grindelwald sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "You must graduate from Durmstrang – and with honors and awards. If you become the Vindico do you want anyone to snide you because you didn't complete your education? When books are written about you, do you want them to say that you were a half-wit who didn't even graduate? Certainly not! Therefore, I advise that you take your PRIMEs as soon as possible. Thus, you'll have next year free to participate in the war, and in whatever other tasks you'll have."

"Fine," said Orion tiredly. "I'll think about it later, Gellert. Now continue with your story, please."

"Ja, as I was saying, at your age and when I finished sixth year, I had taken the PRIMEs and therefore graduated from Durmstrang. I was also set on the path of finding the Hallows, and I had planned to travel extensively for this quest - while I kept studying the Dark Arts and while I contacted useful wizards who would later become my followers or commanders. I had left a group of 'friends' at Durmstrang, who had already pledged their loyalty to me. And I had told the Spirits, in no uncertain terms, that I was going to do things my way. Therefore, I came to England to visit my great-aunt, because I had discovered that Ignotus Peverell's descendants had lived in the same town she did. Bathilda Bagshot is her name, and she's still alive – I believe. Thus, I stayed with her in her house in Godric's Hollow, the same wizarding town in which Albus and his family lived-"

"Wait," interrupted Orion, piercing him with his eyes. "Godric's Hollow? That's where James Potter and my mum lived in a cottage…" He frowned deeply. "Where Dumbledore lived, you say… Yes, I remember… I saw a grave with two names… I can't recall what the first names were, but the last names were 'Dumbledore'… I saw that grave when my father took me to visit Godric's Hollow's cemetery, to see my mother's and James Potter's graves." He blinked up at him. "And that was also the first time I ever saw the Deathly Hallow's symbol outside of Durmstrang. It was inscribed in Ignotus Peverell's tombstone… The Peverell brothers had designed that symbol after creating the Hallows, and they had adopted it as their family crest, just before Cadmus left for Glenn Mulag village… So, I see… You went to Godric's Hollow to see Ignotus' tomb, right? To find some clue which could lead you to the location of the Invisible Cloak."

"Precisely," said Grindelwald, widely smirking at him. "And I did find out that the Potters were Ignotus' descendants, and I correctly deduced that the Invisible Cloak was in the hands of your Potter great-grandfather. Regrettably, he didn't live in Godric's Hollow anymore." He gestured at the room. "But in this Manor, in Wiltshire. Later, after a series of events, I left Godric's Hollow in order to try to get inside this Manor and steal the Cloak. Obviously, I didn't succeed. But that's beside the point. I want to tell you how I met Albus." He took a long sip from his tumbler, and continued, "As I said, Albus had graduated from Hogwarts in blazing glory – Head Boy, Prefect, and winner several awards. I had never met him before and his family had moved into Godric's Hollow some years back. They had previously lived in Mould-on-the-Wold, a small wizarding village next to a muggle town – remember this, for I will come back to it." He pierced Orion with his hawk-like gaze. "Once I arrived at my great-aunt's house, I contacted the cousin of one of my Hydra classmates. This cousin was Elphias Doge, a dim-witted boy and Albus' devoted best friend. It was through Elphias that I met Albus. Both of them had intended to take a Grand Tour, starting with Greece. But Albus' mother died just days before, and Albus came to Godric's Hollow, accompanied by Elphias. The names you remember seeing in the Dumbledore tombstone must have been of Kendra –Albus' mother- and Ariana – his little sister."

"Dumbledore had a sister?" said Orion stunned. "I never heard of that." He deeply frowned. "I don't recall the dates inscribed on the tombstone, but I remember thinking that one of them had died surprisingly young… his sister? She died being a child?"

"Not quite," replied Grindelwald with a grave expression on his face. "Ariana died that summer, when she was fifteen years old. But I'll get to that later. You see, when I met Albus, his mother had just died and he had given up his plan of taking his Grand Tour with Elphias. I had contacted Elphias and the boy had convinced Albus to get out of his house, and the three of us met in small tea shop in Godric's Hollow. That was the first time I saw Albus. You must imagine how Albus was grieving after his mother's death. And Elphias left days after, called back by his own family. Therefore, I was left alone with Albus. By then, he had single-mindedly focused on finishing his treatise - a way to keep busy and cope with his grief, I believe. And he sent the treatise for publishing just a few days after I met him. Actually, I read it before he submitted it, and I offered him one or two inputs."

His lips quirked upwards and he gazed somewhere behind Orion's shoulder. "I was fascinated by what he wrote. I saw my very same ideas eloquently and methodically expressed in his writing. And Albus was like no one I had ever met before. You should have seen him back then! With a brilliant mind, astounding magical skills, magnificent high ambitions for himself, a deep-rooted hatred for muggles, and a fierce determination to influence and change the wizarding world. Yet, he was also caring. He deeply cared for his siblings – he cared for Ariana, the most. He was unlike any of my Hydra classmates or 'friends'. He was very handsome as well, in a humble and unsuspecting way. There was no vanity in him, but there was sturdy self-confidence and maturity. I was instantly attracted to him, in every way. And we shared the same beliefs regarding the wizarding and muggle world. And he was also vulnerable, and lost. It was that soft vulnerability in him that also captured me, I believe. Strangely enough, when I perceived it, I had no wish to exploit it. And that was very unlike myself." He gazed at Orion, and added quietly, "His mother had recently died, and his father had been imprisoned in Azkaban for life, some years previously. Those were very hard blows for Albus, and at that time, he had to set to a side his own plans and ambitions to take care of Ariana, who was fifteen, and of Aberforth, his brother, who was sixteen. And Albus, almost an eighteen-year-old boy, was legally of age to take care of them. That was why he went back to Godric's Hollow, after his mother's death-"

"Wait, wait, wait," interjected Orion hastily, frowning at him. "I never heard about Dumbledore's brother, either. Is he currently alive? What does he-"

"Ja, he's alive," said Grindelwald sharply, looking darkly annoyed. "But don't interrupt me again. This is important. So keep quiet and listen."

Orion quickly nodded his head, and the wizard pierced him with his eyes, as he continued, "Aberforth was the complete opposite of Albus. He was a very wild, disrespectful, impolite, and brash-mannered teenager. And he certainly didn't have any of Albus' brilliancy. Moreover, Albus and he often argued, frequently about Ariana. And this if the crux of the matter, because Ariana wasn't well. Albus and Aberforth told everyone that Ariana had an 'ill health', that she was frail and delicate. Moreover, the official version was that their mother had died due to a backfiring charm. But Albus told me the truth, and also why some people in Godric's Hollow believed that Kendra, Albus' mother, had been mistreating Ariana by imprisoning her inside the house. But the reality of the situation was that Ariana couldn't be left alone or unsupervised, and that Kendra always needed to have her under her watch."

Grindelwald took a short sip from his scotch, before he intently gazed at Orion, and said quietly, "Ariana, being fifteen years old, was amazingly powerful, even more than Albus. I detected it the first time I stepped into their home and saw her. She was a very beautiful girl of bright blue eyes and golden ringlets, with a charming face, soft-spoken and shy. Too shy. She flinched and shied away whenever either of her brothers tried to touch her. The problem was that she was deeply psychologically traumatized, since the age of thirteen. That made her magic highly unstable. She had no control over it, and even the smallest things could alarm her and leave her in a frenzied state. It was Ariana who had accidentally killed their mother, and that damaged further her flimsy mental state. Now, I ask you to remember what I said about the village in which the Dumbledore family had lived before moving to Godric's Hollow. It was a small wizarding village, and the Dumbledores had their ancestral home there. The Dumbledore line was one of the purest light bloodlines. Like a Black and Malfoy version of a light line. Moreover, no Dumbledore had ever married a muggle or mudblood. Nevertheless, Albus' father had married Kendra, who had been a mudblood. Yet, according to my great-aunt and Albus himself, Kendra had been a very intelligent and powerful witch, and the marriage hadn't been seen in bad light, even though the Dumbledores had always been purists. Albus' father had been an upstanding and highly powerful light wizard, very influential as well. But everything had crumbled when the Dumbledore family lived in Mould-on-the-Wold. It was right next to a muggle town, and Ariana was often left alone to play in the streets with other magical children of her age, while Albus and Aberforth attended Hogwarts. There was nothing wrong with that, and as she grew up and reached her thirteenth birthday, Ariana already had a group of friends in the village. Albus didn't tell me the details of what had happened, but I was able to elucidate it from his arguments with Aberforth. One day, when Albus and Aberforth were visiting their respective friends during the holidays, when their father was away at his job, and when Kendra was busy in the house, Ariana had wondered along the streets, away from her group of magical children. At some point, Kendra noticed her absence and went to look for her. But she found Ariana too late, at the outskirts of the muggle town. The thirteen-year-old girl had been gang raped by a group of low-life muggles – and it had been brutal."

Orion's face drained from all color, and he cleared his throat with difficulty, before he said quietly, "That was why Ariana became unstable and couldn't control her magic, right?"

"Ja, but there's more," said Grindelwald curtly. "As you can imagine, this was a tragic blow for the Dumbledores. And Albus' father -who had never particularly liked muggles, even though he had married a mudblood out of love- went on a frenzied rampage for revenge. He found the muggles who had raped Ariana, and he tortured them, savagely, and then killed them. The wizard had certainly not been in his right state of mind, since he didn't even try to flee the scene or conceal the evidence by disposing of the bodies. And he was captured by Aurors an hour later, and sentenced to Azkaban for life. The wizard died there much later, after being exposed to Dementors for three decades. Regardless, after Albus' father was thrown into Azkaban, the family later moved to Godric's Hollow. Then, an already highly perturbed fifteen-year-old Ariana accidentally killed their mother in an uncontrolled outburst of her magic. So Albus was left with the responsibility to take care of Ariana and Aberforth. And he did so willingly, without any bitterness, despite that he had shove to a side all his plans. So it was in those circumstances that I met and befriended Albus. And, ja, our relationship became intimate and very close just after knowing him for a week. And I practically lived in his house for a whole month, with only Albus and his two younger siblings, who were what was left of Albus' family. As you can imagine, Albus' hatred for muggles stemmed from what had happened to his little sister and to his father, having additionally lost his mother due to Ariana's magical instability caused by her trauma."

He paused to take another long sip from his tumbler, and piercingly gazed at Orion, as he continued, "There was always tension in the house, and Aberforth openly attacked Albus' intimate relationship with me. I didn't hide my opinions or the fact that I was a dark wizard, and Aberforth firmly opposed me at every turn. Yet, Albus always sided with me, and I can say that he did it out of love. Moreover, I admit, with no shame at all, that I loved him back just as deeply. You have often told me that you felt an instant connection towards the Tom of the locket, and then towards Voldemort. A connection you think went beyond the fact that you are Voldemort's horcrux. With him, you felt and feel an attraction of minds and magic. And that's exactly what happened with Albus and I. We were both highly skilled, excellent students, vastly educated, and above all, astoundingly powerful - and even if his magic was light and mine was dark, we were mutually enticed, regardless. Neither of us had had a happy childhood, and our ideals ran along the same lines. So in short, I openly admit that Albus was the only one I have ever cared for and loved. And along with my ambitions for myself, I wanted him to fulfill his, and to be by my side. That's why I showed him what I could do with my dark magic, and that's why I told him about the Hallows and my quest in search of them. Nevertheless, I never told him anything about the Vindico or the Spirits, and I never told him that I wanted to become a Dark Lord. The latter, I believe he suspected, but he didn't know how ruthless I could be in order to attain my goals. Regardless, I worked to convince him to come with me, I tried to persuade him to leave Ariana in a home in which she could be looked after by mediwitches. I even offered the money for it. And Aberforth heard all of this."

Grindelwald paused and took a brief sip from his scotch, before setting it on the low table between them. "It was then when the three of us started a heated argument, with Ariana listening, though we hadn't noticed her. Aberforth reproached Albus about wanting to leave them, he accused Albus of selfishness, of befriending and having an intimate relationship with me, a dark wizard, and of not caring about Ariana. Inevitably, Ariana was affected by our angry yells and she snapped. She lost control of her magic once more, like had happened with her mother. The three of us instantly tried to control Ariana's magic for her, and spells had to be casted in order to accomplish it. But the truth was that none of us knew how to stop someone so magically unbalanced and incontrollably powerful like her. We didn't suspect, either, how her unstable magic would react with the spells we casted on her – it only made matters worse. And in the end, in the wild confusion of casted beams of spells, shaking walls, crushed furniture, and flying objects, Albus and I powerfully stunned Ariana at the same time. Up until this day, I can't explain with certainty why Ariana died because of that. I believe that she suffered from a magical overload the moment her uncontrolled magic clashed with the strong 'stupyfies' we casted on her. Even the mediwizards who were instantly floocalled, were unable to explain exactly how and why that had caused her death – she was a unique case of astounding, unbalanced power. In the end, her death was official regarded as an accident. And after her burial, Aberforth never forgave Albus and the boy left to live with some distant aunt. And Albus… he never forgave himself either."

"But-"

"Let me finish," said Grindelwald sharply, leveling Orion with his hawk-like gaze. "I also know that Albus blamed me as well, since I had started the argument when Aberforth had begun criticizing Albus' relationship with me. Furthermore, the house had been almost completely destroyed by Ariana's outburst of uncontrolled magic, and I had to leave in order to keep searching for the Hallows. I asked Albus to come with me, but he refused. Ariana's death had deeply changed him. In his grief, sorrow, and deep feelings of guilt, he no longer ambitioned greatness. He no longer cared about drastically changing the wizarding world. He considered power as something dangerous, and he accused me of wanting absolute and unrestricted power – which was true. My opinions and aims hadn't changed. But Albus no longer desired to help me with my goals, and he decided that he didn't want a position of power either. I believe he feared what it could do to him. I believe this is why he merely became a Transfiguration professor, despite his abilities to become much more. I believe this is why he repeatedly rejected becoming the Minister of Magic, when the post was later offered to him, and why he was satisfied when he became Hogwarts' Headmaster. I also believe this is why Dumbledore wants to help you so much. He fears what you can become, since he must certainly feel the power in you. And he most likely sees me in you as well. His intention to help you is honest and sincere, yet he clearly doesn't understand us anymore. Regardless, that summer, after Ariana's burial, we parted in anger, both of us reproaching each other. And I never saw him again until decades later, on the day that we confronted each other in the battlefield. That day, with our respective armies and supporters behind our backs, we dueled for eight hours straight. Given our audience, we said nothing personal to each other. Yet, he never truly tried to kill me, and I never used my unique dark magic against him. Finally, I allowed him to defeat me, because by then I had only obtained the Elder Wand, the German muggle armies under my indirect control had been already defeated by the Russian muggle soldiers, the muggle head-figure I had manipulated had already killed himself in his bunker, and I knew that I couldn't become the Vindico. I was carted off to Nurmengard, Albus silently took the Elder Wand from me and casted the spells on my cell, blocking me from using -in any relevant way- my dark magic. He never said a word to me, either."

Grindelwald slowly grasped his tumbler and took a brief sip, before he relaxed against his couch, gazing at Orion expectantly.

"What can I say?" murmured Orion quietly, his gaze locking with the wizard's. "I was completely clueless about what had really happened between Dumbledore and you. It was… much graver than I had thought. And it's… well, sad, really. I have no other word for it. And I find that I sympathize with both Dumbledore and you. I certainly understand him better, since I often wondered why he never became England's Minister of Magic. And what happened with Ariana…" He heavily exhaled and carded his fingers through his hair. "It's a pity. And Albus… And Dumbledore certainly had a tragic life." He slightly frowned. "Actually, compared to him, I cannot complain about the things that have happened to me."

"What is this?" said Grindelwald, arching a mocking eyebrow. "Do you feel for Albus, now?" He pierced him with a hard look in his eyes. "Will you doubt to use this information against him?"

"You expect me to use the memory of Ariana against him?" interjected Orion, frowning at him. "Would _you_, Gellert?"

Grindelwald scoffed, and said sharply, "Ja, of course I would, if it meant that I obtained the Elder Wand more easily by making him grieve."

"You lie," said Orion impassively, eyeing him closely. "You wouldn't hurt him that way at all. You'd rather curse him into physical agony, than torture him psychologically. I know this, because of the expressions on your face when you related all this to me. What happened affected you deeply as well, even though you didn't allow yourself to change your goals. But I believe, that for a second, you actually considered the possibility of staying behind with Dumbledore, and of giving up your quest for the Hallows."

"I would have never sacrificed my ambitions for him," said Grindelwald with a harsh expression on his face. "I never did."

Orion burrowed back into his couch, and said nonchalantly, "Yet, you didn't kill him in the battlefield, and he was the Leader of the Light – your enemy. Yet, whenever I mention killing Dumbledore, your shoulders slightly tense. It's almost imperceptible, but I've come to know you very well. I can deduce what's on your mind by merely observing you."

"Are you telling me that you won't kill Albus?" sneered Grindelwald, with narrowed eyes which held a gleam of snide contempt. "What I related wasn't intended to come out as a sob story. If I had known that you would take it this way, I wouldn't have told you anything."

"I'm not crying," said Orion calmly. "My eyes didn't even moisten. That story was your common past with Dumbledore, not mine. I said that I sympathized but I didn't say that it deeply affected me, or that it made me change my mind. It hasn't. I will still kill Dumbledore, but not for personal reasons anymore. Despite how his actions have negatively affected my life and my father's, I no longer hold any deep-rooted recriminations or hatred towards him. I won't kill him out of any sense of revenge, but because it's necessary, since he's the Light's leader and beacon of hope." He frowned pensively. "As for using the memory of Ariana against him… Well, it will depend on the circumstances."

He glanced down at the booklet in his lap, and shot the old wizard a wide smirk. "But I will certainly publish Dumbledore's treatise, when the time is right. And I will certainly make the wizarding world know what you've related to me. I already have someone in mind who'll be ecstatic to assist me." His smirk widened. "Remember, that I mentioned Rita Skeeter to you, a while ago? Well, we have an understanding between us and I haven't used her in ages. Her… writing skills are just the thing I'll need. You see, what better way to destroy the Light's rose-tinted faith in their leader than to have Rita Skeeter write a very long article about you, Albus, Aberforth and Ariana? Especially about your intimate relationship with him. Once I kill Dumbledore, I will have a meeting with Skeeter, and she'll joyfully write a nice article for me in the Daily Prophet, and I'll bring down Dumbledore's name. That's a fair and sly way of using Ariana against him, isn't it? Even if it's postmortem."

"Do as you like," said Grindelwald curtly, waving a hand dismissively.

Orion narrowed his eyes at the wizard. "Are you somehow angry at me, Gellert? If you were thinking of using me against Dumbledore, or to make me some kind of vessel to indirectly hurt him by making him remember about the past, then think again. If you want to do that, then-"

"Then what?" snapped Grindelwald fiercely. "Talk to him myself, was that going to be your suggestion, mein junge? But it's not as if I can, is it? I officially died when Voldemort destroyed Nurmengard."

"You want to talk with Dumbledore?" said Orion, arching an eyebrow, surprised.

"Nein," replied Grindelwald crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. "I simply don't want you erroneously conjecturing about what I want to do. Kill Albus, I don't care. But don't believe for a second that I want to somehow use you to get to him."

"Alright, point taken," said Orion, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"There are a couple of more things I think you should know about," said Grindelwald curtly. "You asked me about Aberforth. I told you that he was alive. Moreover, you have surely seen him, repeatedly. He's the owner and bartender of the Hog' s Head, at Hogsmeade." He scoffed, and added snidely, "I believe he even has his pet goat with him."

Orion blinked at him. "That… weird wizard is Aberforth? Merlin's staff, I have seen him. But he looks nothing like Dumbledore."

"Ja, that's Aberforth for you," said Grindelwald, waving a hand dismissively. "I don't think you have anything to worry about with him. He's a mediocre wizard, at best. And Albus and he never mended their relationship."

"Perhaps they haven't," said Orion musingly, "but Dumbledore mentioned that he sometimes liked to have drinks at the Hogshead. Therefore, there's still some contact between them, however tense it might be." Suddenly, he frowned and gazed up at the wizard. "It's curious, you know, how Dumbledore is also a half-blood. I always thought he was a light pureblood. He's another strange case. And you said that Ariana was even more powerful that him… Voldemort is a half-blood too, and I'm as well… Though, given my Potter blood, I'm closer to being a pureblood than a half-blood. But my point is that the three of us have some muggle blood. My mother and Dumbledore's was a muggleborn, and Voldemort's father was a muggle. And we're very powerful, despite of it…"

Grindelwald frowned at him, and demanded shortly, "What's your point?"

"That maybe there's something unexplained and unresearched going on there," said Orion pensively. "We know that muggleborn and muggle blood eventually weakens the magic in wizarding bloodlines. But perhaps, a one-time infusion of their blood does the opposite." He leaned forward, and added eagerly, "Think about it, Gellert. In my case, Dumbledore's, and Voldemort's, we come from bloodlines which were always impeccably pure, up until they crossed with a muggleborn or muggle, and we were the resulting offspring. If our bloodlines continued to cross with more muggle blood, then I'm sure the magic of our lines would dwindle. But in us, in the offspring from the first crossing with a muggle or muggleborn, the muggle blood of one of our parents didn't affect negatively the potency of our magic. It seems that it was the opposite case, we were more powerful than any other wizards of our pure bloodlines."

"This is mere speculation," interjected Grindewald sternly. "For instance, I'm a pureblood, and I'm more powerful than Voldemort or Albus. Furthermore, you have no way of knowing if there wasn't someone more powerful than yourself in your bloodline. And the Spirits told you that they had influenced Merope Gaunt to be obsessively in love with the Riddle muggle, so that she would have a child in whom Tom Sr.'s blood negated the negative traits in her bloodline. Thus, mellowing the hereditary madness in the Gaunt line, since the Gaunts had bred with wizards and witches who were outwardly violent - believing that it was a sign of dark blood, since they had no other means of knowing who carried pure dark blood. Moreover, the Spirits ordered Slughorn to compel your mother to love James Potter, because they wanted to weaken the light magic in the Potter line, which was originally dark. And in a way, they succeed in that, because due to the consangri ritual, you have Potter blood, as well as Black and muggleborn blood, all mixing together and making you more powerful in dark magic, whilst diminishing in you the light magic of the Potter blood. So even though Voldemort and you have some muggle blood in your veins, the potency of your magical power is explained."

Orion frowned thoughtfully, and then nodded, before he inquired, "What about Dumbledore?"

"There isn't much that I know about his bloodline, other that it was pure before Albus' father bred with Kendra," replied Grindelwald dismissively, "but I'm sure that there's a similar explanation for his case."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Suddenly, Grindelwald leaned forward, and said pensively, "You've reminded me of another matter I wanted to tell you about." He slightly frowned. "I don't know how relevant it is, but Albus must have put some effort to keep it a secret during all these decades. Thus, it must be important."

Orion stared at him, puzzled and curious. "What is it?"

"As I told you, Ariana was raped by several muggles when she was thirteen," said Grindewald gravely, piercing him with his eyes. "And she died when she was fifteen, but that's not all. After being raped, she became pregnant, and she had a baby boy. That was also why her mother, Kendra, always kept Ariana indoors, watching and caring for Ariana and her baby. After Kendra was accidentally killed by Ariana, and since Albus and Aberforth were considered too young to care for a baby, a distant aunt of theirs took the baby with her. It was the same aunt to which Aberforth went to live with, after Ariana's burial. However, no one knew about Ariana's son. Albus and Aberforth certainly managed to keep it a secret from everyone in Godric's Hollow. And I only discovered it by mere chance. I found a baby's toy under Albus' bed. And when I asked about it, he confided in me, and I agreed to keep it a secret, understanding that it was a painful subject for him."

"A baby?" gasped out Orion with round eyes. "A half-blooded baby, then… Ariana's son from one of her muggle rapists… You think this is important? That the baby grew up to become powerful?"

"I don't know, but that baby is the only descendant of the Dumbledore line, since Albus and Aberforth never had children," replied Grindelwald, frowning. "Ariana's son must currently be a hundred-year-old wizard or squib, probably with children and grandchildren of his own. Nevertheless, no one has ever heard about Albus having a nephew. He must have kept it a secret for a number of reasons, but still, it might be significant that he has hidden the existence of his nephew. Simply keep it in mind."

"Do you know his name?" asked Orion. "Or the name of the relative who raised him?"

Grindelwald shook his head. "Nein, neither. And it's logical to assume that they didn't give the Dumbledore surname to Ariana's son. But if there's someone from whom you can get his name, it's Aberforth. Obviously, I don't think he'll be too forthcoming with that information. But if you ever have a reason to want to know about Albus' nephew, then make Aberforth tell you. Moreover, if you need to know the name of Albus' aunt, of the witch who raised Ariana's son, then you could find my great-aunt, Bathilda Bagshot. I believe she knew Albus' distant aunt, and Bathilda must still live in Godric's Hollow."

"Alright, thanks," muttered Orion, filing away the information. He glanced at the wizard, and said with a quirk of his lips, "Any other relevant information? I'm almost afraid to ask."

Grindelwald scoffed, and placidly leaned back on his couch. "Nein, that was all. I would like, however, to talk to you about Dumbledore's skills, and how he can use them in a duel." He shot him a crooked smirk. "This will be the last piece of wisdom I'll impart on you."

"Let me get another drink for us, first. I can see by your expression that this will take long," said Orion wryly, before he swiftly snapped his fingers. "Daisy!"


	18. Albus' skills, the blue glow & Fenrir

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Thanks to all reviewers! I'm so happy that you're enjoying the fic so far. And I'm very sorry but I've had a couple of very busy days and I didn't get around to replying reviews, as I had promised to do. But I will as soon as I can catch my breath!

And this is once more a long chapter, filled with info, to give more depth to characters and all that jazz. And the action part will come next!

Oh, and please do tell who you think Albus' nephew and descendant are! I'm certainly highly interested in knowing if some of you hits the nail. *winks*

No one mentioned it, but perhaps some of you noticed that I changed some 'solid facts' concerning Albus and Gellert's story from what was written in canon in the seventh book, in Skeeter's article about Dumbledore's life. I did this on purpose, since I wouldn't think that Rita Skeeter would have written all the facts down correctly. Some differences are, that in my version, Gellert met Albus through Elphias Doge instead of being directly introduced by his great-aunt Bathilda Bagshot. Another is that Gellert wasn't expelled from Durmstrang but that he decided to leave in order to pursue his quest for the Hallows and to start forming his army of followers, and that he stayed in Godric's Hollow for one month –not two- and that he left after Ariana's burial, and not right after she had died, which was what Skeeter wrote. Obviously the whole Ariana-gang-rape thing and the reason for which Dumbledore Sr. was carted off to Azkaban is my version of the story, since it would make a lot of sense.

Oh, and as like some reviewers mentioned, I did want to show Dumbledore in another light. Meaning, that I wanted him to be understood. I have never believed in evil!Dumbledore. In canon, after reading the seventh book, I disliked Dumbledore immensely. But I think that the man can be understood, and it gives him more depth. All in all, I don't consider him evil or ill-intentioned, though he is slyly manipulative. But the man has his reasons and he believes himself to be right in his actions. And as in any confrontation, both sides have motives which can be understood. Whether we agree with those motives is another thing. And, well, in my opinion, an evil!Dumbledore simply doesn't make sense, since it's too out of character and unrealistically extreme. In my fic, there's no good and evil, but shades of gray, since I think that's how the world is.

Ah, and for those who were curious:

PRIME stands for 'Preponderous Ridiculously Impossible Magical Examinations'.

And they are the NEWTs counterpart at Durmstrang. Just like Durmstrang's WITs –'Wizarding Intermediate Tests'- were like Hogwarts' OWLs.

**Enjoy and make my day with reviews! *smiles encouragingly*********

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**Chapter 18**

With their second serving of their respective drinks in hand, Grindelwald and Orion sat across from each other.

The old German wizard took a short sip from his tumbler, before he gazed at Orion with his hawk-like eyes, and said, "Albus' specialties and magical fortes are Transfiguration, Charms and Potions. And he will use his skills, particularly in the first two, in a duel." He stared at Orion pointedly. "For instance, can you give me an example of how he has used them in the past?"

Orion frowned pensively. "Well, I've only directly seen him in action during the Department of Mysteries Battle, when he dueled Voldemort. But then, he used what you have taught me to do: to duel with wandless and nonverbal magic, simultaneously with casting spells with a wand. But…" He gazed up at Grindelwald. "But I think I know what you're referring to. At the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, Dumbledore spelled the statues of the Magical Brethren. So he used Transfiguration and Charms to do that, right?"

"Almost, but not quite," replied Grindelwald, his lips quirking upwards. "You told me, some time ago, that the statues came alive and jumped between you and the fight going on between Albus and Voldemort. So tell me, mein junge, could you have done what he did to those statues?"

"I…" Orion frowned deeply, rubbed his forehead, and finally muttered, "Well, actually… no. I haven't read about any spells which would allow me to do that. But I guess that I could use Transfiguration-"

"Nein, you couldn't," interjected Grindelwald impassively, "because he didn't use Transfiguration at all, but something else." He shot Orion a crooked smirk. "You see, after Ariana's death, Albus went back to Hogwarts to pursue two apprenticeships in order to become a Master in Transfiguration and Charms. In that advanced and joint apprenticeship, Albus learned Transanimation. And this is what he used to control those golden statues. Do you know what Transanimation is?"

"Not really," replied Orion pensively. "I've come across the term in some books, but the only thing I could gather was that one had to be very knowledgeable and skilled in Transfiguration to be able to use it. So Transanimation must be an advanced branch of Transfiguration, right?"

"Precisely," said Grindelwald placidly, "and very few have the skill and magical prowess required to be able to master Transanimation. But let me explain to you how it works. For example, what happens when you transfigure a knut coin into a chicken?"

"The knut will take the appearance of a chicken and outwardly behave as one," replied Orion easily, "but it will not truly be a chicken. If you dissected it, its insides will be exactly like the insides of a chicken. And you could eat it, I suppose. But it will not be able, for example, to lay eggs. And if placed among other chickens, the animals would instinctually sense that it wasn't one of them. Also, the transfigured chicken will revert back to being a knut eventually. The duration of the transfiguration depends on the power of the wizard who casted the spell. And it's temporary since no object can be turned into a living being for too long. At the most, if the wizard who casts the spell is very powerful, the chicken will last for a month, before turning back into a knut."

"Correct," said Grindelwald, "that's why wizards can't simply become rich by transfiguring anything they like into galleons. Though many have tried and felt the full brunt of Gringotts' goblin rage." He toothily grinned. "The limitations of Transfiguration are the reason why, also, wizards won't transfigure objects into food. Because at some point the transfigured food would revert to its original state. And imagine if you had transfigured a knut into a chicken, then eaten the chicken, and in the middle of your digestion it turns back into a knut. You'd be bedridden for a month, with terrible stomach aches, and would probably need to floocall a healer so that the knut could be extracted from your digestive system." He shot him a wide smirk. "All in all, not a wise idea. But Transanimation is entirely a different matter."

Grindelwald raised his tumbler of scotch and gazed at the golden liquid sparkling with the light of the nearby lit fireplace, as he continued musingly, "Transanimation is quite astounding and remarkable. A wizard who masters it, like Albus, can use it to animate any object, and transfigure it as well. A transanimated object will eventually revert to its inanimate state. But whilst the spell lasts, the wizard holds the object in his power, conferring to it not only mobility but also some measure of artificial awareness." He side-glanced at Orion, and said pointedly, "This is what Albus did to those statues. He animated them and also directed their actions, with his thoughts alone. He could have also turned them, let's say, into dragons and made them obey his thoughts. And here lies the main difference between Transfiguration and Transanimation. If Albus had transfigured those statues into dragons –which would have been quite a feat in itself- they would have outwardly acted like dragons, wild and uncontrolled, as they are by nature. On the other hand, if he had transanimated the statues, animating them and turning them into dragons, then those dragons would have been in his direct control, following his thought and acting as he ordered. So you can imagine the span of possibilities that opens up for someone who can use Transanimation. And I must warn you that, when dueling, Albus uses this amazing skill of his. He'll use anything at his disposal, everything around him, and transanimate it in order to attack his opponent or defend himself. This ability of Albus' is what you have to be most concerned about."

Orion had been staring at him with wide eyes, taking it all in, and he finally demanded crisply, "And you've waited all this long to tell be about this?!" He worriedly carded his fingers through his hair. "I had little idea about Transanimation and I certainly didn't know that you could turn things into dragons and command them! For Merlin's staff, how am I supposed to duel with Albus whilst fighting against a bunch of dragons?!"

"Well, you wanted a challenging duel, didn't you?" said Grindelwald nonchalantly, before he let out a crow of amused chortles. "Albus will certainly give it to you, mein junge!"

"And you find this funny?" snapped Orion, glaring at the guffawing wizard. "Again, why didn't you tell me about this before, Gellert?"

"Don't blame me, mein junge," said Grindelwald, amidst crowing chuckles. "Blame yourself. If you came across the term of 'Transanimation', why didn't you research it to fully know what it was about? Moreover, why didn't you study the subject yourself?"

Orion darkly scowled, and bit out, "Because as much as I always find magical subjects which highly interest me, I don't have the bloody time to pursue everything that catches my attention! Must I relate to you how busy I've been during all these years? It isn't as if I have merely been going to classes like any other student my age. There was always something I had to do, always something that kept me busy, Gellert!"

"That's no excuse," interjected Grindewald sternly, piercing him with a pointed stare. "You cannot sit on your laurels and believe that you know everything you need. A wizard must never stop studying, mein junge. One has to constantly broaden his magical abilities. Even I, at present, know and master a mere quarter of all magical skills and subjects. Beside, I'm telling you about it now, aren't I? So you'll have to keep Albus' transanimation skill in mind and prepare yourself accordingly for your duel against him."

Orion shot him glare, and said miffed, "Fine, I will." He stared at him speculatively. "Do you master Transanimation, Gellert? Because you could teach me-"

"Don't even try to delay your duty of killing me by saying that there's something more I need to teach you," interrupted Grindewald sharply. Then, he waved a hand dismissively. "And I never learnt it, mein junge. I was much too busy becoming a Dark Lord and waging a war in several fronts in both the muggle and wizarding world."

"_You_ were too busy to learn Transanimation?" said Orion crisply. "You had over a hundred years of existence and never studied it, and you dare say that I've been lazing around just because I haven't become a Master in Transanimation?! I'm just sixteen, Gellert! There's a limit to how much I can do-"

"Age isn't an excuse, nor is lack of time," interrupted Grindewald sternly, leveling Orion with a hard gleam in his hazel eyes. "If you organize yourself efficiently you'll find that you would have time to spare to pursue many interests. Furthermore, you cannot compare yourself to me." He pierced him with his eyes, and said curtly, "You have much more potential than I did. Thus, you must demand of yourself much more. You have to constantly push yourself further, mein junge. Obviously, much beyond whatever I've done and accomplished."

"How long would it take me to learn Transanimation?" grumbled Orion.

Grindelwald tapped a finger against his chin pensively. "Hmm, you have to be very advanced in Transfiguration and Charms, well beyond PRIME level… So I would say two years."

"Two years?!" spluttered Orion, before he rebelliously crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, forget it, old man! I have enough on my plate. As I said, I have my limits. Sure, someday, if I find that I have nothing better to do, then I would like to learn it. But certainly not now!"

"As you like," said Grindelwald impassively. "I simply pointed out that there's much you don't know. And I merely want you to be aware of Albus' less known skills. On that note, he's also a superb Legilimens. And he constantly uses this ability in battle to know what his opponent's next move and spell will be, and thus, counteract swiftly and beforehand. But you already knew about this and you have nothing to worry about in that regard. Your mind is well protect by your own dark magic, and it can only be legilimized if you purposely allow someone to do so. But what you surely don't know is that Albus is also an Alchemist."

"I know that," said Orion, calming down and placidly stretching his legs. "It says so in the Chocolate Frog Dumbledore-card."

Grindelwald crookedly smirked at him. "But do you know exactly what an Alchemist can do?"

"I know what Alchemy is, in theory," replied Orion, eyeing him wearily. "It's the study and manipulation of non-magical and magical elements, in order to transmutate them into other states. It's linked with other areas of knowledge, like Transfiguration and Potions. And I know that Dumbledore discovered the twelve uses of dragon's blood. But that's it. I've never seen a book about Alchemy. It's briefly mentioned in some textbooks in Hogwarts and Durmstrang libraries, but there isn't a book which goes into it in depth."

"Ja," said Grindelwald, his smirk widening, "Alchemist like to keep their secrets." He swiftly stood up, with tumbler in hand, and propped an elbow on the fireplace's mantelpiece, as he relaxedly crossed his ankles in a casual and elegant pose. "There's something you must understand. Wizards keep their existence hidden from muggles, but they also like to keep their secrets within the wizarding world. It's impossible to fathom just how many secret societies exist in our magical world." He gazed down at Orion, piercing him with his hawk-like eyes. "For instance, wizards are mostly ignorant about vampires, werewolves, and veela, to name a few. These half-breeds and creatures live secluded from wizarding communities. And only by being one of them would someone ever fully know about all their skills, customs, beliefs, and social dynamics. Furthermore, this secretiveness in the magical world doesn't only apply to creatures. The Necromancers Guild you told me about is a good example. I didn't know it existed before you revealed it to me. And they certainly aren't the only group of wizards who have created their own little secret society. Moreover, this happens in both Dark and Light sides. You are vastly knowledgeable about the Dark sphere of our wizarding world, but you're ghastly ignorant about the Light one. Light wizards also have secrets which dark wizards know nothing about."

He took a small sip from his scotch, and smirked at him. "Alchemy is one of them. And with it, one could transmutate copper into steel, metal into wood, glass into rock, rock into gem, and so on. And unlike transfiguration, the transmutation is a stable and permanent change of any earthly element. Furthermore, to be able to transmutate, you have to carry this ability in your blood. And just like Necromancy in a trait only carried in dark blood, Alchemy is a trait only carried in light blood. Only light wizards can become Alchemists, and they must have this ability in their blood, passed down through generations. Obviously, it's not a common blood-trait. Those who become Alchemists are very few and they are powerful. Moreover, Alchemist have their own secret group. That's why you'll never find a textbook which reveals in depth just what Alchemy is and what Alchemists can do. The Covenant of Alchemists made sure of that."

Orion gaped at him, before he clamped shut his mouth, and said disbelievingly, "Are you telling me that there's a Guild-like society formed by Alchemist, and that they call themselves the 'Covenant of Alchemists'?"

"Ja, that's precisely what I'm telling you, mein junge," said Grindelwald, his lips quirking into an amused smirk. "But don't ask me about them. As I said, they like to keep their secrets, and I'm a dark wizard so it's obvious that I could never approach them." His smirk widened, and his hazel eyes glinted mischievously. "Oh, I did try. I was particularly interested in something their Founder had managed to create. And such Founder was, coincidentally, a good friend of Albus'. Albus himself is a member of the Covenant and he worked briefly alongside their Founder." He arched an eyebrow and gazed pointedly at him. "Does the name of the Founder of the Convenant, Nicolas Flamel, ring a bell?"

"Er…" Orion deeply frowned in concentration. It did sound familiar, but he couldn't quite recall-

Abruptly, his eyes snapped up to Grindelwald, and he gasped out, "Yes! I remember reading about him during my first year at Durmstrang. But it was later during that year that I understood what was going on at Hogwarts." He leaned forward, and continued eagerly, "Remember what I told you a while ago? Draco was there when his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor came running into Hogwarts' Great Hall, saying that a Troll had entered the school and then fainting. And Draco noticed how all the students and professors left the Great Hall, leaving Quirell behind. And I thought that the whole Troll-thing was very suspicious. I actually told Draco that Quirell must have been behind it, since the wizard was the new professor in staff. And I was right!" He beamed a smile. "I had my first vision of Voldemort that year, and it was then that I discovered that Voldemort was still somehow alive. Of course that I didn't know exactly that he was a bodiless soul, and I certainly didn't know why I had the vision –because I'm a horcrux- or that Tom was Voldemort, but I realized through the vision that Voldemort was alive and somehow possessing Quirell. And I saw Dumbledore arriving where the Mirror of Erised was, and Voldemort demanded that he'd be given the Sorcerer's Stone, because he wanted to produce with it the Elixir of Life. And in textbooks, it's mentioned that Nicolas Flamel is a known Alchemist and the latest one to have created the Sorcerer's Stone."

"And do you know what happened afterwards?" said Grindelwald, smirking at him.

Orion slightly frowned. "Well, no. I mean, Voldemort made Quirell duel with Dumbledore, but Quirell lost and Dumbledore casted some spell on him, and then I simply felt pain… A lot of pain, it was horrible… and then Lezander woke me up. Afterwards, I understood that the pain I felt was what Voldemort's soul felt when Quirell died and he was forced to leave the wizard's body." He gazed up at Grindelwald, and bit his lip uncertainly. "But if you're asking me about what happened to the Sorcerer's Stone, then I must tell you that I haven't the faintest idea."

"I do," interjected Grindelwald, toothily grinning. "See, this is why I asked you to tell me all about your life. Because the moment you told me about this, I related it to the Spirits, since the Sorcerer's Stone is something of great importance. With it, a non-Alchemist can turn anything into gold and also produce the Elixir of Life, which grants immortality as long as you drink it. And the Spirits hadn't been aware that Albus had been keeping the Stone at Hogwarts, because the Aux Atrum in the school hadn't found out about that. Apparently, Albus hadn't told his staff, with the exception of a very few. But the important matter is that Albus convinced Flamel to destroy the Sorcerer's Stone. And it was destroyed, just a few months after that incident. Therefore, there aren't any more Sorcerer's Stones left, unless the Convenant decides to produce one – which isn't like, at least not in the near future."

"But how do you know that Flamel really destroyed the Stone?" asked Orion with curiosity.

Grindelwald tapped his forehead with a finger, smirking. "Because the Spirits always keep me well informed - they owe it to me. A couple of months ago, after I told them what you had seen through your first horcrux-vision, they sent an Aux Atrum to discover what had happened to the Stone. And this Aux found out, two months ago, that the Flamels had recently died. Therefore, it was logical to conclude that, five years ago, Albus convinced Nicolas to destroy the Stone, and that Nicolas did so, after arranging his businesses. He and his French wife were over six hundred years old when they died two months ago."

"Okay," said Orion pensively, "but why is this important? I mean, it's good to know that there isn't any Sorcerer's Stone lying around, and that if someday I wanted one I could coerce it from the Covenant. But, frankly, I don't think I would ever want a Sorcerer's Stone. Immortality doesn't appeal to me."

"Someday you might change your mind, mein junge," interjected Grindewald, taking a long sip from his tumbler.

Orion scrunched his nose. "I doubt it. I will live well beyond the two centuries of a wizard's average lifespan. Given that I have Lezander's blood in me, I'll probably live for about five hundred years. That's a lot, and it will surely become tedious in the end. No, immortality is certainly something I don't want." He gazed up at him, frowning slightly, as he said, "But we were talking about Dumbledore's skills. So, alright, he's an Alchemist. But I don't see how he could use this ability in a duel or battle."

"I don't think he would use it," said Grindelwald impassively. "In a duel, he could only use Alchemy to transmutate something permanently and use it against you. But it's quite pointless to change something permanently when it's only going to be used for battle. He can change something much easily with Transfiguration and Transanimation. Therefore, those are more practical in a duel, instead of using Alchemy. But anything you know about Albus is useful, so keep his Alchemical skills in mind." He pierced Orion with his eyes, and added sternly, "And above all, remember about the Covenant of Alchemists. Because like them, I'm sure there are many more groups of power conformed by light wizards."

He leaned away from the fireplace, and sat back down on his couch, spreading himself comfortably, before he intently bore his eyes into Orion's. "Once you become the Vindico, and openly show your abilities and what you have become, you'll encounter a lot of opposition. It will be then that you'll discover just how intricate our magical world is, and just how much depth and how many secrets the Light side has. I have no doubt that those secret Light societies composed by powerful light wizards -with some specific magical ability or other, and certainly with their own agenda- will reveal themselves to you. To fight you, mein junge. Don't even think, for a second, that everything will be easy once you become the Vindico. Nein, it won't. Indeed, it will be much harder for you because everyone will know how powerful you are, and that you're the Dark's champion. Thus, for the first time in your life, you will be confronted by the whole light wizarding kind. So far, you only had to be concerned about surviving in the Dark side, and making your way up. But you have been never opposed by a united front of light wizards." He leveled Orion with a grave stare. "Once you become the Vindico, matters will become much worse for you, before they get better."

"I see," said Orion quietly. He gazed up at Grindelwald, and solemnly nodded. "I understand. I'll be prepared."

"Gut," said Grindewald with satisfaction, his voice carrying a hint of pride.

Orion shot him a smile and took a long sip of his firewhiskey. But just as the bronze liquid warmly trickled down his throat, he felt a sudden highly unpleasant twist in his stomach.

And he immediately set the tumbler down on the low table, and grasped his midriff with an arm, groaning, "Argh. I shouldn't have drunk anything."

"You're drunk after only drinking two half-filled tumblers?" said Grindelwald, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm not drunk – Uff!"

Orion grimaced and doubled over, feeling his mind swamping with dizziness and his stomach twisting and clenching, swirling with nausea.

Grindewald frowned at him, leaning forward on his couch. "Your face is getting green. Are you alright, mein junge?"

"M'fine," breathed out Orion with difficultly, glancing up at him. "It's just that bloody potions of yours… You know that I'm taking it daily, and it's killing me."

"What symptoms do you feel?" asked Grindelwald, observing him while his frown deepened.

"What you told me I would," replied Orion slowly, still doubled over his stomach and clenching his arm around it. "Dizziness, nausea, exhaustion… and my muscles ache, and I'm constantly tired, my stomach is frequently unsettled, and I can't eat without taking chamomile tea or all the food would just come up again."

Grindelwald spread a hand forward, and suddenly Orion felt the muscles around his stomach relaxing, and the dizziness and nausea instantly mellowing away. Letting out a heavy exhalation of breath, he slumped back on his couch, wiping a hand over his forehead. "Oh, thanks for that, Gellert. What wandless spell did you use-?"

"Have you considered the possibility," interrupted Grindewald, eyeing him closely, "that you might be pregnant, mein junge?"

Orion's head shot up, and he choked out, "WHAT?!"

"That you might be pregnant, Orion," repeated Grindelwald sternly.

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Orion briskly. "Do I look pregnant to you?" He swiftly pulled up his shirt, and glanced down to poke at his taut, leanly muscled and flat belly, then glanced up at him. "See? I can't be accused of being fat or pregn-"

Grindelwald rolled his eyes, and scoffed, "You actually don't know anything about pregnancies, do you?"

"Do I look like a bloody witch to you?" bit out Orion with annoyance. "Of course I don't know anything. I don't need to know anything because I'm not planning on getting pregnant! At least not for a couple of more years – decades, preferably."

"Mein Dunkelheit," said Grindelwald with a heavy sigh, before he pierced him with his eyes, and said sternly, "That you aren't showing doesn't mean that you aren't pregnant. During the first three months of pregnancy, witches' and wizards' bodies don't show it. If anything, they only have a small bulge, which can be imperceptible. Furthermore, they feel, during those months, all the symptoms you just told me. Granted, the potion you're taking also makes you to feel that way. But you shouldn't discard the possibility of being pregnant as well. And I must warn you that the potion you're taking can be fatal to your baby-"

"I'm not PREGNANT!" bellowed Orion in agitation. "It's simply not possible-"

"You don't know that," interrupted Grindelwald sharply, gazing at him with a hard glint in his eyes. "And if you've been feeling this badly, it should have crossed your mind-"

"Of course that the possibility fleetingly crossed my mind – I've been feeling like shit!" snapped Orion impatiently. "But I discarded the notion because I haven't taken the darned potion for male pregnancies!"

"That means nothing," said Grindelwald coolly, leveling him with a stern gaze. "Voldemort could have slipped it to you. I told you before that I thought that Voldemort might resort to that-"

"He wouldn't do that," interjected Orion in a steely tone of voice, "because he knows how much I oppose having a baby during war times, and because he knows that I'm not prepared - that I have my own ambitions and goals to accomplish, and that I don't want it. He would be blatantly disregarding my will and wishes in a very serious issue, and he knows I wouldn't forgive him - ever. Furthermore, I know that he hasn't slipped me the potion because I would have instantly felt agonizing pain, Gellert!"

"But your dear Dark Lord is a very sly wizard, isn't he?"

Orion scowled at him. "He isn't my 'dear' anything. Not anymore – we broke up a month and a half ago. He's going to sever our marital magical bond someday soon. That's also why I don't think he slipped me the potion. If he wanted a baby with me he wouldn't have broken our relationship, would he?"

"You broke up a month and a half ago?" said Grindelwald, one eyebrow shooting upwards.

"Yes," replied Orion in clipped tones. "And don't ask for details. We split up but remain war allies, and that's all there is to it."

"I see," muttered Grindelwald pensively.

Orion arched an eyebrow, and demanded briskly, "What – you don't rejoice? You're not going to tell me how much better off I am without him? Or that now, without any personal attachments, I should kill him without remorse in order to absorb his power?"

"That's what you expected me to say, mein junge?" said Grindelwald calmly. "Nein, I'm not going to tell you anything. Because what to do with him is your choice, a personal one. And I'm not going to influence your decision. You know what you want to become, and the things you have planned to do to accomplish it. You don't need my opinion or direction in this regard. Become the Vindico in your own terms, mein junge. Without listening to anyone else."

Orion silently gazed at him, before he mutely nodded.

"However," interjected Grindelwald, with a frown on his face, "that you're no longer having a relationship with Voldemort, and that you didn't see him slipping you a potion or that you didn't feel pain, doesn't mean that he hasn't done it." He pierced Orion with his eyes, and said gravely, "Voldemort is, admittedly, one of the smartest, and most devious and sly persons I've ever met or heard about. He could have perfectly well made you drink the potion and easily obliviated you. Because there's one thing for sure, he won't relinquish his hold on you – spouses or not."

"He wouldn't," said Orion uncertainly, a deep, dark frown marring his forehead. His eyes snapped up to Grindelwald, and he added firmly, "He wouldn't do that because he knows I wouldn't forgive him and that I would become his enemy-"

"That wouldn't matter to him," interrupted Grindelwald curtly. "I'm sure he would think he could mollify you or gain you back in some way." He narrowed his eyes at him, and said sharply, "And you're being too stupidly stubborn about this, mein junge. You should have already checked if you're pregnant or not. And I think you haven't because you're scared to discover that it might be true. Because you don't want to have a valid and personal reason to confront him, or to want him dead."

"I'm not scared of anything," interjected Orion crisply. "I simply don't see how he could have done it without me finding out-"

"By obliviating you!" spat Grindelwald angrily.

"And then what?" bit out Orion, glowering at him. "Then, after some months, I would know that I was pregnant! And how would he explain that to me, Gellert? Furthermore, if I was already pregnant I would sense it somehow, wouldn't I? I would sense the baby's magical core developing inside me."

Abruptly, Grindelwald stood up with an aggravated sigh, stretched out hand, and demanded sternly, "Lend me your Phoenix wand, and let's discover once and for all if you're pregnant or not. I know a spell that will instantly tell us."

"Fine," said Orion shortly, scowling with irritation while he flicked his left wrist.

The Phoenix wand came shooting from underneath his sleeve, leaving its holster, and slapping into Orion's open left hand. He quickly handed it to the old wizard and leaned back on his couch, gazing at him with a worried and uneasy frown on his face, shifting uncomfortably.

Immediately, Grindelwald grasped the wand and pointed it at Orion's midriff. "Revelio impregnum!"

* * *

He was glowing blue… light blue… blue everywhere… Orion blinked while he gazed down at himself.

Then, he heard Grindelwald clicking his tongue, and he shot his head up and demanded agitatedly, "What does it mean?"

The old German wizard sat down on his couch, a deep frown on his face.

"Gellert, what does it mean?!" asked Orion frantically, not liking the man's silence.

"Blue means," said Grindelwald quietly, intently meeting his gaze, "that you aren't pregnant. And green would have meant that you are."

"Oh, thank Merlin, Circe, and all the Fates!" breathed out Orion, as he slumped back on his couch while his lips spread into a happy and beaming smile. "See, I told you-"

"Don't congratulate yourself so soon," interjected Grindelwald sternly. "Voldemort could have casted a spell on you so that your pregnancy couldn't be revealed by a spell."

Orion sprung up to his feet, feeling reenergized, and he cheerfully chuckled. "Rubbish, my dear friend, rubbish." He shot him a wide grin. "You're even more paranoid than I am, and that's saying something!"

"He could have even," continued Grindelwald, completely ignoring Orion's words, "created a modified and more complex male-pregnancy potion. He's very skilled in Potions, after all. Therefore, he could have created one with which you could become pregnant without visibly showing it up until the time that the baby was ready to be born."

"That's extremely farfetched, and it doesn't sound as if such potion could be created. I never heard of something like it. Not to mention that it would take even Severus several years to create it. And why are you insisting so much on this?" demanded Orion sourly. "Do you actually want me to be pregnant, for Merlin's sake?"

"Of course not," said Grindelwald sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "It would be disastrous for you. It would make you postpone all your plans for several years. And you'd have to wait a long while before attempting to undergo the Vindico test, since I'm sure you wouldn't undergo it if you had to take care of a small child."

"I wouldn't," affirmed Orion nonchalantly, widely grinning. "But I don't have to worry about that, because I'm not pregnant!"

"I told you that Voldemort could have-"

"Oh, you can keep your conspiracy theories," said Orion cheerfully. "You casted the spell, it gave negative, so let's not continue trying to unravel plots where there aren't any."

"Well, I told you my suspicions, ignore them under your own risk," interjected Grindelwald curtly, handing over the Phoenix wand to Orion. "And keep in mind that Voldemort has a very good reason to want you to be pregnant with his child. Because now that you aren't in a relationship with him, he needs some other way to keep you tied to him."

Orion scoffed, utterly unconcerned, while he placed the wand inside the holster strapped on his left forearm. "But you forget that he's the one who broke it off with me. So why would he need to tie me down to him by making me pregnant, when he could have simply not told me that we weren't spouses anymore?"

"I'm sure he has his reasons," said Grindelwald dryly, glancing up at him. "Furthermore, when he said that he didn't want to be your spouse, you said nothing previously that might have given him the idea that you wanted to split up?"

"I said that I was tired of how things were going between us," replied Orion, slightly frowning at him. "And I was thinking of asking for a break… you know, like not seeing each other for a while, until matters settled."

"Ah, I see," said Grindelwald, smirking at him. "And hasn't it occurred to you that he broke it off between you before you did so? Someone like Voldemort wouldn't like to be dumped, would he? Even if it was just a 'break'. He would act beforehand so that he wouldn't lose face."

Orion waved a hand dismissively. "Well, that's of little consequence. He had his reasons –whatever they truly are- and I have mine. Plus, I'm quite satisfied with how things are proceeding for me. I'm certainly not complaining." He shot the old wizard a smile. "Now, are we done? Or do you have more Albus-info to give me?"

"Nein, that was all," said Grindelwald, comfortably spreading himself on his couch. "And I have nothing further to teach you. So you can stop coming here, since there will be no more training sessions." He crookedly smirked at him. "I'll merely spend the rest of my days in blissful idleness, drinking Kristakoff's excellent scotch and taking out the pegasi for a flight." Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes at Orion. "And since I'm an old man at the dawn of his days, I want some peace. So take your father someplace else, or he won't be alive the next time you drop in. There's so much that I can bear, and I honestly can't stand him."

Orion chuckled under his breath. "Alright, you'll have your days of solitude and quietness. I know where I can take Sirius."

Then, he paused uncertainly, before he crouched down on the floor, besides the old wizard's couch, to be eye-level with him. Locking his gaze with Grindelwald's, he said quietly, "This won't be the last time we see each other. I'll come back once school lets out, and then I'll take you to Durmstrang, as planned, before I kill you. But I want to thank you now for everything you've done for me, Gellert. You've been my mentor, but more importantly, my close friend and confidant. Indeed, no one knows about me as much as you do. I've never told anyone my whole life and all the secrets I keep. You're the only one who knows about everything. And no one knows me –my wishes, my ideals, my feelings, my ambitions, and even my thoughts- as you do. And I'm glad for it, because your support and help has been invaluable, and your friendship priceless. You will not be forgotten, Gellert."

"Thank you, mein junge," said Grindelwald, his lips quirking upwards into a small, twisted smile. Unexpectedly, he carded his fingers through Orion's hair, ruffling and messing it up, while he crowed a chuckle. "Ah, now I understand why your father likes to do this so much." He crookedly smirked. "I will not, however, call you my 'pup'." He dropped his hand away from Orion's hair, and said curtly, "Well, well, you can leave, mein junge. We'll see each other one last time for my grand and spectacular presentation at Durmstrang. Now, off you go."

Orion nodded, standing up. He gazed down at him one last time, observing him in silence, wanting to remember Grindelwald just as the wizard was now. Comfortably spread on a couch, with a tumbler of his favorite scotch poised in one hand, wearing rich and elegant robes over tight ridding breeches, one booted ankle propped casually on one knee, with wind-blown glossy blonde short curls peppered with gray, and with his lips curving upwards in that characteristical crooked smirk on his handsome face.

With a faint smile on his lips, he nodded again at Grindelwald, in farewell, before he turned around and left the room.

* * *

Orion rubbed his forehead and sighed, before he knocked on the closed doors of Potter Manor's master study.

"Sirius – Dad, it's me, open up."

Not a sound came from within, and Orion rested his forehead on one of the mahogany doors, as he said quietly, "I know you are there, brooding and depressed. Daisy told me. So let me come in. I have some news that will cheer you up."

Suddenly, muffled sounds came through the door, of a chair scratching the floor, of the brush of feet against carpets, and finally, a 'click' from the door-handle on the other side. And Orion leaned away his forehead from the door, just the instant it was opened ajar.

Sirius poked his head out, and his grey eyes immediately landed on Orion. "Iz you. You're 'ere."

"Um, yeah," said Orion, inspecting him closely with a frown.

His father looked terrible; unshaved, disheveled and untidy. With a beard of several days, messy and uncombed long black hair, red and puffy eyes, dark circles under them, and his robes wrinkled and in disarray.

"You're a mess," remarked Orion, before he arched an eyebrow. "Are you going to let me in?"

Sirius blearily eyed him, scratching his beard, before he nodded and opened the door wider, as he said slowly, "Yeah… come'n, pup."

Orion followed him inside, as the wizard unsteadily made his way towards a couple of couches. As his father inelegantly plopped down on one, Orion calmly sat across from him, his frown deepening when he saw a nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey on top of a low table.

"Waz'up, pup?" slurred Sirius, not meeting Orion's gaze and focusing on something in his hands.

"You're drunk," said Orion dryly.

Sirius' puffy eyes snapped up to unfocusedly gaze at him, and he adamantly shook his head, with an innocent expression on his face. "Me? Nah, pup."

Orion heavily sighed, before he whipped out his wand, pointed it at his father, and said shortly, "Soberitus!"

"Ugh," groaned Sirius, grasping his head with one hand and slumping back on his couch. He shot Orion a miffed glance. "I was enjoying the numbness in my head, pup. Could have let your old man be happily drunk for a while-"

"You were drunk but I certainly didn't see you happy," pointed out Orion calmly. He glanced at the thing that Sirius was tightly clutching, and asked with a soothing and soft voice, "What do you have there, Dad?"

"Oh, this?" said Sirius, opening his hand and gazing down with a sad and melancholic expression on his face. "It's a wizarding picture. It was taken just a week before we graduated."

Orion leaned forward, and finally saw a framed picture of a group of young wizards and a witch. He recognized them instantly: James Potter was beaming a smile, with one arm over his father's shoulder and another around his mother's waist, while Lily seemed to be laughing beautifully, and Sirius was lopsidedly grinning with one hand on top of Remus' head. The teenager Remus was waving a hand happily, alongside Peter Pettigrew.

"Where did you get this from?" asked Orion quietly.

Sirius glanced up at him, and said hesitantly, "Well, you said that you had told Dobby that you were going to bring me back to life, and that he could be my personal house-elf. So I tried, and called him. And he popped in. And since I can't leave this manor, I asked him to bring me some of the stuff I had in Black Manor…" He eyed him uneasily, and added hastily, "But if you're concerned about security, Dobby won't say anything about Potter Manor-"

"That's alright," said Orion quickly. "Don't worry."

Dear Merlin, was his father afraid that he was going to get scolded? Had he treated his father that harshly?

Orion sighed and leaned back on his couch, before he warmly smiled at the wizard. "It's fine. Dobby is now your house-elf, so you can ask him to do whatever you want. I'm not worried about him because I know he's loyal to me." He shook his head with amusement. "Though I don't know why."

"Because he likes you, pup," said Sirius, widely grinning at him. "Dobby thinks you're a good wizard. And to gain a house-elf's free-willed loyalty is quite significant. Like me, he knows that you aren't bad, even if you're a dark wizard."

Orion slightly frowned at him, but let it slide, as his father added with a cheerful and mischievous glint in his grey eyes, "I told Dobby that he could stay at Potter Manor, and I think that you'll discover that there's house-elf love in the air."

"Oh?" said Orion, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yup," said Sirius with a chuckle, looking quite satisfied with himself. "Dobby popped in just when Daisy brought me a drink, and the moment he saw her… Well, you should have seen it! He looked as if he had been struck by a beam of sunlight. With a dumb grin plastered on his face and his ears vibrating and flopping from one side to the other." He let out another amused chuckle, shaking his head. "Poor Dobby, because Daisy didn't even spare him a glance. You know how she is… hard-working, efficient, and quite bossy. Anyway, it's fun to see Dobby trailing after her with a goofy smile on his face, while she simply glares at him with irritation. But I bet my knickers that those two will get together!"

Orion inwardly groaned. House-elf romance, just what he needed.

"You don't mind, do you?"

Orion glanced at him, and chuckled under his breath, waving a hand dismissively. "Not really. They can do whatever they want, as long as they don't slack in their duties."

"Good," murmured Sirius, gazing down at the framed picture and slowing caressing it with a finger. With a sad, lost voice, he said, "You know, pup, I don't understand why… why James made you his son."

Ah, he had wondered when his father would bring that up. Sirius hadn't mentioned it before.

Orion gazed at him intently, observing him closely, and finally said quietly, "You know why. Mum was being affected by the compulsion mind web that Slughorn had casted on her. That's why I think that she's the one who came up with the idea of making me undergo the consangri ritual, so that I could become a Potter. After all, the compulsion was making her want to have a child with James. And in a way, she did, by using the consangri ritual so that James would give me his blood and make me a Potter and his blood-adopted son. And James agreed because he wanted to protect me and her. Remember what I told you? That I saw their spirits at the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic when my wand and Voldemort's produced a priori incantatem? James said that he wasn't trying to steal me from you. That he knew that you were my father, but that he also wanted to protect me, because he loved Lily, and thus her son as well. They were going to tell you the truth." He leaned forward and grasped his father's hand. "But they never had the chance, Dad. Do you… er… well, do you begrudge James for it?"

"No!" said Sirius instantly, snapping his head up to stare at him. "No. I don't mind that James decided to give you his blood. It's just that I would have liked to know about it. To have known, back then, that you were mine. That Lily still loved me and that she hadn't simply ditched me for my best friend."

"But you told me that you had understood her reasons," interjected Orion quietly. "That day in Grimmauld's Place, when you checked the tapestry of the Black tree-line and discovered that I was your son, you said that you finally understood why she had married James. To protect me, because I was the son of a muggleborn and a pureblooded dark wizard. You said she must have feared that I would have been recruited by Voldemort, because I was a Black, or that she and I would have been attacked, because she was a muggleborn who had a son with you, and thus muddled the Black pureblood line."

"Yes, I understand her reasons," muttered Sirius, carding his fingers through his long hair, while a frown formed on his forehead. "She was being affected by the compulsion thing, but who did she really love? James or me?"

"Her spirit told me that she had loved you both," said Orion with a sigh. "In different ways, but she had loved both of you. But does this truly matter, Dad? Whether she loved James due to the compulsion or not, is irrelevant now. She was happy with him, and she had been happy with you as well."

Sirius nodded, and shot him a wan smile. "You're right. It doesn't matter why." He briefly glanced down at the picture again, and said in low voice, "And Peter is gone. You killed him."

"I did," said Orion nonchalantly. "I told you about that as well."

"I'm glad you did," said Sirius fiercely, piercing him with his eyes. "I would have liked to be the wizard to have killed him. But I'm glad that he got what he deserved. Even if you had to be the one who killed him, in the end."

Orion widely smirked at him. "Good, because I vastly enjoyed it."

"Um, yes," mumbled Sirius, looking uneasy and slightly unsettled.

"Gellert thinks you're ready," said Orion, changing subjects while he shot him a warm smile. "He told me that you've mastered Occlumency and practiced dark curses. And that you're ready to go to Dumbledore and the Order."

"Hmpfh. I don't like Grindelwald," groused out Sirius.

"I know," said Orion, masking his amusement. "And I think the feeling is mutual."

"Yeah, well," interjected Sirius sourly, glancing up at him, "you're going to eventually kill him. So that's that."

Orion narrowed his eyes at him, and said in a chilly tone of voice, "So as long as I kill dark wizards, you don't have a problem with me being a 'killer'. Is that it?"

"No!" gasped out Sirius, vehemently shaking his head. "I just mean that with Voldemort we have enough. Imagine if we had to deal with another Dark Lord. With Grindelwald, if the wizard suddenly decided to-"

"I greatly admire Gellert," interrupted Orion, piercing him with a hard gleam in his eyes. "And I will derive no pleasure or satisfaction from killing him. What's more, I'll do it, because I must, but I'm sure that I'll feel it deeply once he's gone. If there's someone I could revere, it would be him."

"Revere?" snapped Sirius angrily. "That wizard was responsible for the Muggle Second World War! He used that muggle, Hitler, as his puppet and was therefore responsible for the muggle genocide! How can you say that you admire him?!"

"That's beside the point," said Orion coolly. "His intention wasn't to target a specific group of muggles, but to make them kill each other. And Gellert used that weak-minded Hitler muggle for his purposes, like any Dark Lord would have done. The Muggle War was merely a side-line of the main war being waged in the wizarding world. It was Gellert's way of distracting light wizards and making them apply their efforts in saving muggles. Therefore, he weakened his enemies' armies because many light wizards decided to get involved in the Muggle War. The American and French light wizards did this. Thus, depleting in some measure the wizarding ranks of the Light's side. You cannot blame Gellert for being a tactical genius. If it hadn't been for his decision to allow himself to be defeated by Dumbledore, Gellert's wizarding armies would have won."

"And the result were millions of dead muggles," pointed out Sirius heatedly.

"That's preferable to thousands of dead wizards," interjected Orion impassively. "By allowing himself to be defeated, Gellert protected his soldiers, since those dark wizards had the opportunity to escape once Dumbledore 'won' the duel. Most of Gellert's followers didn't die in battle thanks to him. I would have done the same. And yes, I rather have millions of muggles dying instead of a couple thousand wizards."

"So what you're saying is that you value a wizard's life much more than a muggle's?" demanded Sirius gruffly, piercing him with his grey eyes.

Orion arched an eyebrow, and said nonchalantly, "Of course I do. Moreover, I value a dark wizard's life over that of a light wizard's. Don't you?"

"No!" spat Sirius hotly.

"Then you're a fool," said Orion crisply. He narrowed his eyes at him, and said sharply, his exasperation evident, "Then you're betraying your own kind. When are you going to get it through your head? You are on the Dark's side! For the simple reason that I am on the Dark's side. And where I go, you go. Right? That's what you told me. Where I lead, you follow, no matter what!"

"Yes, I will follow you, pup," snapped Sirius fiercely. "But I don't agree with-"

"I don't care if you agree or not," interrupted Orion in a steely tone of voice, his eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm tired of trying to make you see reason. I'm tired of you denying what you are. You're a pureblooded Black - have some pride in it! I'm disappointed and disgusted by you whenever you dislike a wizard just because he's dark. Or whenever you spout to me your Light-oriented ideals. Light wizards are our enemies, father. They aren't your friends any longer. Damn it, even Remus is on the Dark's side!" He pierced him with narrowed eyes, and demanded, "If you want out, tell me now, once and for all. If not, you will obey every order I give you, and you'll change your frame of mind and consider yourself as part of the Dark. I cannot keep having this conversation with you. You said you had made the choice to stand by my side, then act like it! So I ask you, do you want out?"

"No. I will follow you, as I promised," grumbled Sirius, meeting his gaze. He sighed and carded his fingers through his messy, long hair. "Fine, pup. I will consider myself to be part of the… Dark. And the Order of the Phoenix and the Light side will be my enemies." He glanced up at him, and added vehemently, "But when it comes to muggles and muggleborns, I want my opinion to count. I want you to consider what I have to say."

"Alright," said Orion coolly, waving a hand dismissively. "In that, you're like Remus. And I have no problems with it. I still haven't made up my mind about what to do with muggles, but it matters little, since if there's a war against them it will happen in the distant future."

"Fine, that's all I ask," said Sirius gruffly.

Orion intently stared at him. "Good, then remember it. And don't make me have this conversation with you again. You will have to follow me in everything, father. If you seriously oppose me in any issue, even once, then I'll wash my hands from you. I cannot have my own father questioning me. I cannot have weak links in my ranks. Do you understand?"

"Yes," muttered Sirius, with a somber expression on his face.

"And you cannot be reluctant," pointed out Orion, eyeing him closely. "If you want to be on my side, then show resolved determination and an eager disposition."

Sirius sighed, before he locked his gaze with his, and solemnly nodded. "I will. You won't doubt my loyalty to you, pup. No one will doubt it."

"That's better," said Orion, shooting him a warm smile.

"Yeah," said Sirius, lopsidedly grinning at him. He casually spread himself on his couch, and his eyes suddenly sparkled with excitement. "You said something about good news that would cheer me up?"

"Ah, yes," replied Orion, smirking at him. "As I told you before, Gellert thinks you're ready. But before you go to Dumbledore, I would like to take to Lycaon. And I'm sure you can stay there for a couple of days. Remus will be happy to see you again. Do you want to go?"

"Of course I do!" cried Sirius cheerfully, immediately springing to his feet. "Let's go, let's go!"

Orion chuckled under his breath, and pointedly glanced up at him. "You're not going anywhere looking like that. Take a bath, shave, dress with fresh robes, and then I'll take you. I'll wait here."

"Done!" said Sirius instantly, wheeling around and energetically hurtling out of the study.

"And remember to bring the standard wand that Daisy bought for you!" called Orion after his father.

* * *

The moment their feet landed on the ground of the vast clearing in the middle of the dense forest, Orion secured the pendant-portkey under his shirt, and glanced at his father. Again, he had to admit that the wizard's new look suited him.

"I like your goatee, Dad," he said with a smile, as he started to make his way towards Lycaon.

The sun was already setting, and the skies were lit with beautiful golden, orange and purple streaks, giving the clouds a violet and silvery outlining. It was quite a sight. And the dusking sunlight bathed the werewolf village in a warm and cozy ambient, with the sound of the breeze rustling tree-leafs and the chirping of birds conferring a sense of peacefulness.

"It makes me look even more dashingly handsome, doesn't it? Ah, witches around the world will start swooning for me again, you'll see," said Sirius with a smug grin, peeling his marveled gaze from the view of the nearby village to side-glance at him. "You could try to grow one, pup."

"You think it would look good on me?" asked Orion unconvinced, while he touched his recently shaved, smooth face.

Sirius shot him a wide grin, his grey eyes glinting mischievously, as he said flippantly, "Well, pup, it would if you manage to actually grow a man's beard instead of just a soft fuzz."

"Oi! My facial hair is not a fuzz," snapped Orion indignantly.

"It is," said Sirius, his grin spreading while he ruffled Orion's hair, "because you're still a kid, son. My kid."

"Right, but stop messing my hair up," complained Orion, swatting his father's hand away from his head, and carding his fingers through his hair to rearrange it.

"You should leave it messy," said Sirius solemnly, with the air of one bestowing sage advice. "None of that pureblood nonsense of having a proper, tidy hairstyle." He shot him a lopsided smile. "You inherited my unparalleled good-looks, so with messy hair you would have a whole I-have-just-shagged-someone look that would drive girls wild."

Orion groaned, and said pointedly, "I don't care about girls noticing me in that way. I had enough with Lavender – that's an experience I don't want to repeat. And I like wizards, remember?"

"The same applies," pipped in Sirius with a devious grin. "I'm sure a couple of boys would jump at you if they saw you like that. Let me think… like the Malfoy boy, your vampire friend, or that Valois chap you mentioned."

Orion quirked an eyebrow, and eyed him curiously. "You wouldn't have a problem with me being with Draco? Or Lezander?"

"Anyone is better for you than Voldemort," replied Sirius with a pained expression on his face. "And I have nothing against Draco. He's a spoiled, stuck up brat, but he's been your friend for ages." He grimaced, and added, "I dislike Lucius Malfoy, of course, but I won't blame the boy for his father's sins. And Lezander was your boyfriend, wasn't he? I never met him but he sounds like good fellow who cared about you." He side-glanced at him, and whispered pointedly, "And didn't you tell us something about a vampire legend regarding you, that said that you would be 'thrice-bonded'? According to what you told us, you already are. With the vampire boy because he gave you his blood, with Draco because you …er, well, because you took some of his soul's essence. It still unsettles and worries me how you were affected by that darned Hallow which made you behave like a Dementor." He shuddered with a pinched expression on his face. "But there you have the second bond. And with Voldemort… Well, that's one bond I would prefer to see gone. But you are his horcrux, and you've explained that there's little we can do about that."

He sighed, and stopped in his tracks to intently gaze down at Orion. "In short, pup, I rather see you with anyone but Voldemort. But I won't insist on the matter. You've fiercely defended your marital union with him, and I know you're content with being his spouse-"

"Er, about that," interrupted Orion, clearing his throat, "I have something to tell you. It's time you knew, because things are moving on. But I'll wait until we're with Remus."

"What is it?" asked Sirius puzzled, his curiosity evident.

"When we're with Remus," said Orion shortly, grasping his father's hand and pulling him forward towards the high wooden fence which encircled the village.

With a few strides, Orion felt the tingling of wards washing over him, as they crossed the gate and entered Lycaon. While he pulled his father along with him to follow one of the pebbled paths, he saw a buzz of activity going on around them. There were about fifteen children happily yelling and chasing each other at the school's playground, several women were busily coming back and forth from the roofed enclosure which served as Lycaon's dinning hall, whilst something was being prepared on the stone oven, filling the air with a delicious smell, some bare-chested men were tending to the orchard fields behind the section of lodges, some other men and women were entering the village with large leather duffel bags filled with furs and hunted rabbits and other forest animals, a couple of teenagers were coming from the nearby river carrying large amphoras which were surely filled with fresh water, along with some women which came from the same direction holding baskets of wet, washed clothes, while some other men and women were coming out from the wood-and-stone building which served as the village's library. Furthermore, Orion detected that some used wands, whilst others did their tasks manually, indicating that they were muggle werewolves.

Nevertheless, no one stopped them. Though many paused in their activities to glance at them and murmur between them. And some of it reached Orion's ears.

"… they crossed the wards… must be guests of our Alpha… but who…"

"…that's the Boy-Who-Lived… saw his picture in the Daily Prophet…"

"Our Alpha's cub… Harry Potter…"

"…he's called Orion Black now… but who's the other…"

"Sirius Black… must be… similar features to the boy's… Death Eater… but doesn't look dangerous…"

"….the boy's father…but he was Kissed…"

Meanwhile, he saw his father cheerfully waving at them, the wizard seeming to enjoy the attention, while favored with puzzled and strange glances. The werewolves surely thought that Sirius was a bit deranged given the man's happy-go-lucky attitude and charming smiles.

"This place is amazing," whispered Sirius to him, shooting a roguish grin at a young, pretty woman who had halted in her way towards the children's playground. "And Remus built all this?"

"Yes," replied Orion with a hint of pride, "with some funds of our main Black vault - didn't even make a dent."

"Incredible," breathed out Sirius, before he warmly smiled at him. "You did well, pup, by helping him in this way." He lowered his voice, and said in an eager murmur, "I want to see this Lair you mentioned, where they have their orgies."

"I didn't say they had orgies!" choked out Orion. "They merely come together at night at the Lair, to sleep huddled among them, and… well, some were having sex, by it wasn't a massive orgy, father!"

"Same thing," said Sirius, waving a hand dismissively while his gray eyes glinted excitedly. "I want to see it."

Orion rolled his eyes, and huffed. "Well, it happens at night, so you'll have to wait." He side-glanced at him, and added dryly, "And I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities to watch them during your stay here. Just don't…" He grimaced. "Well, don't get into trouble with any of their women."

"I wouldn't!" said Sirius, innocently blinking at him. A serious expression spread on his face, and he said adamantly, "I loved your mum, pup-"

"Wait," interrupted Orion, clutching his father's arm to stop him, while he intently gazed up at him. "I didn't mean that I don't want you to be with a woman, father. I wouldn't mind. I know you loved my mother. But she's dead, and you should find someone you like. I don't expect you to remain unattached. Indeed, I would have no problem if you decided to marry some witch. I only meant that werewolves are very territorial and if you fool around with one of their women, you'd certainly cause problems for yourself and Remus."

"Are you sure?" asked Sirius hesitantly, eyeing him closely. "You would be okay with it if I found a witch I liked? If I married?"

"Of course," replied Orion, shooting him a warm smile. "In that regard, don't limit yourself because of me, Dad. You're free to love and marry whomever you like. And now that I think about it, I would enjoy having a little brother or sister."

Sirius widely smiled at him, ruffling his hair. "You're a good son, pup."

"I know," said Orion, smirking at him. Then, he groaned, "Stop fumbling with my hair!"

Sirius chuckled and purposely messed it up further, as they resumed their walk along the pebbled path, reaching soon the one lodge which was slightly larger than the rest.

"This is Moony's home?" asked Sirius, cocking his head to aside, while he inspected the charming, wooden house with its small garden at the front. "It's very nice."

"Yeah, it is," said Orion, while he quickly took the two steps to reach the wooden door.

He was about to knock when he heard muffled voices coming from the inside, one particularly loud, sounding angry and exasperated. And he instantly grabbed Sirius' arm, to listen before his father decided to saunter inside.

"…I can't believe what you're saying, Remus! I've been here for almost two months. You've denied me the use of my wand and you won't let me communicate with anyone outside of here. But Dumbledore needs to be informed, and I need to get back to the Order and to my Auror job-"

"Tonks, I've explained my position to you-"

"Yes, that you're siding with the Dark because you want to gain equal civil rights for werewolves, but I'm sure that Dumbledore can offer you the same. The same, and much more than that boy is offering to you. He's personally involved with You-Know-Who, Remus! He might have been Harry Potter, but Orion Black isn't what everyone believes him to be. He is the Boy-Who-Lived and he was supposed to be the one who would rid us from You-Know-Who, but he turned out to be dark, Remus! And you're only loyal to him because he's the son of a dead friend. And I'm telling you that you're siding with the wrong people. You can't honestly tell me that You-Know-Who is good, or that his views are right! And he'll use you and then dispose of you – he won't fulfill the terms of your allegiance to the Dark-"

"He will. I and the Alphas of continental Europe have signed magical contracts with him. Furthermore, if that fails, we have Orion's commitment to the werewolf cause-"

"You can't blindly cast your luck with a mere boy-"

"He isn't a mere boy, Tonks. He's very powerful and knows what he's doing. And he has my full confidence and support-"

"But he's aiding the Dark side, Remus! He's helping You-Know-Who, and they will end up killing muggles and muggleborns. Not to mention the war between light and dark wizards that they have already caused-"

"Orion didn't initiate the war, Tonks. Voldemort did, and it was something to be expected. You have to consider the dissatisfaction with the Ministry of Magic, not only from creatures like me but from dark wizards as well. The English Ministry of Magic, being controlled these past few centuries by light wizards, has done nothing but repress werewolves, considering us mere beasts. And they have also oppressed the use and study of the Dark Arts-"

"Listen to yourself! You've been brainwashed by that kid-"

Orion pulled his father to a side, and whispered as he glanced up at him, "I've heard enough. You can go inside-"

"What are you going to do, pup?" asked Sirius quietly, with a grave expression on his face. "You said you would kill her if she didn't turn to the Dark's side. Are you?"

"Probably," murmured Orion, observing him closely. "You understand why, don't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose," said Sirius, with a gloomy and pained expression on his face. "I saw her once, you know, when she was a baby. Cute little thing, she was. And she's my second-degree niece, pup. Your cousin twice removed-"

"That's why I gave her a chance," interjected Orion in a low whisper, gauging him. "But you heard her, she won't change her mind."

Sirius heavily sighed, and uneasily carded his fingers through his long, wavy, black hair, as he muttered, "I don't like this. I don't want you to kill her." He grimaced, before he pierced Orion with his eyes, and added sternly, "But I understand that she can't be allowed to go back to Dumbledore. And you can't give her to Voldemort either. He would merely end up torturing her in the end. A swift death is preferable to that. So… if you decide to kill her, I won't oppose it. I did promise that I wouldn't be an obstacle and burden for you, and that I would try to understand your decisions. I do, in this matter. I wish there was another solution, but I can't come up with one. So, even if I don't like it, I'll back you up in this. I'll deal with Remus, to make him understand, because he'll certainly oppose it."

Orion stared at him in silence, realizing that this moment was highly significant. That this was a test that his father had passed, proving that the wizard was serious and resolved in his promise of supporting him.

"Thanks," he said, warmly smiling while he gently squeezed his father's arm, "I appreciate it, Dad. Now, go inside. I'll be back in a while."

"Where are you going?" asked Sirius, confusedly frowning at him.

"I need to get some answers," said Orion quickly, as he spun around to take again the pebbled path. "But I'll be back shortly!"

Just as he was about to reach the lodge next to the one of Remus', he heard a loud, shocked voice gasping out, "SIRIUS BLACK?! You – you were dead!"

"Hello, luv!" came his father's carefree, muffled greeting.

* * *

Orion shook his head in amusement and chuckled under his breath, moments before he knocked on the wooden door of the lodge he had reached. He heard strange muffled sounds coming from the inside, but there was no reply. And with a puzzled frown on his face, he turned the knob and silently stepped inside.

He would have gasped, but what he saw was so unexpected, that he merely gaped at the scene before him. There, inside the Beta's lodge, were two naked people on the carpeted floor, a few feet away from where he was standing. Patrick Connolly was on top of a woman who had her head snapped backwards, while the werewolf powerfully thrusted into her. She was loudly moaning, while Patrick growled in pleasure, keeping a wild pace, taking her hard and fast. He saw Patrick's strong muscles flexing and rippling in the twenty-something-year-old werewolf's back and arms, while the man continued to plunge into the woman.

Suddenly, Patrick's head snapped to a side, his nostrils briefly flaring, and Orion was pinned by his amber gaze, while the werewolf's lips curled into a smirk. And Orion merely gazed back at him with stunned, round eyes, feeling himself flushing deeply. But when Patrick's smirk widened into a snidely taunting expression, as the man kept savagely thrusting into the woman, Orion recovered his wits. He felt his own face heated, and it was clear to him that he couldn't act embarrassed or Patrick would nastily taunt him until the end of times.

Therefore, Orion pulled an impassive expression over his features, and casually leaned back against the wooden wall, with his arms crossed over his chest, and with the air of someone completely bored and uninterested in the proceedings. Patrick's smirk widened even further, and his amber gaze never left Orion's face as he continued to thrust into the loudly moaning woman, before the woman finally let out a resounding cry of pleasure and Patrick aggressively plunged into her, with one last throaty groan.

The young werewolf swiftly stood up, not sparing the woman a glance, as he said in his low, rough voice, "Leave, I have business to attend to."

"What?" said the woman confusedly, obviously still not out of her post-sex daze. She shook her mane of chestnut curls, and propped herself on her elbows, gazing up at Patrick. "But, Sharpfang, I thought we were going to spend some time together-"

"I don't cuddle and I don't wish to spend time with you. This was only a fuck, you know that," said Patrick gruffly, throwing at her a dress which had been lying on the floor. "Clothe yourself and get out, Moonbeam."

Orion silently and coolly observed them, detecting that the woman was quite beautiful, with a voluptuous body, which he supposed that would incite and attract many men, though it did nothing to him.

She unsteadily stood up, messily pulling her dress over her head and down her curvacious body, and spluttered, "But, but-"

"Get out now, woman!" snarled Patrick, before he turned around and approached Orion with a predatory smirk on his face.

"Who's this?" she asked, finally catching sight of Orion, gazing at him with curiosity. "Oh, you must be the boy our Alpha tells us about. You're Orion Black, right? The one who gave us the galleons to build Lycaon?"

Orion curtly nodded, and she beamed a smile at him, as she said giddily, "You're so cute!"

At that, Orion shot her a dour glare, just when Patrick clutched her arm and forcefully shoved her outside, growling, "I said to get out!"

Her complaints were instantly muted when the werewolf slammed the door at her face, before he swirled around to stand a few paces away from Orion, still completely naked, and looking quite shamelessly proud of his own strong-built physique.

"So, what do we have 'ere?" said Patrick in his Irish-accented, low voice, his lips curling upwards. "A lil' boy entering my domains, uninvited. What should I do with ye? So many delicious possibilities-"

Orion scoffed, and said unfazed, "You didn't seem to mind my presence when you were shagging her, Connolly."

"Aye, I didn't," said Patrick, bearing his teeth at him in a feral, vicious smile. "I rather enjoyed observing your flushed, pretty face while I fucked her."

"I dare say that you treated her quite harshly," interjected Orion coolly, ignoring the comment. "You sounded to me like the misogynist type."

"Misogynist?" said Patrick, arching the eyebrow marred by an old scar. "Quite a big word for a lil' boy like ye." He approached him in a prowling and predatory manner, and smirked as he roughly clutched Orion's chin. "Make no mistake, Black, I like women – I like to fuck 'em until they screech." His smirk widened into a feral expression, while he trailed a sharp fingernail along Orion's cheek. "But I wouldn't mind fucking such a pretty boy like yerself. I'm sure I would enjoy ye and make ye scream my name. And I can tell that ye like what ye see. I could give ye a taste."

"I'm not 'pretty', if anything I'm handsome." Orion darkly glowered at him and slapped the man's fingers away from his face. "And I've seen better bodies than yours. I'm not remotely tempted by what you offer. So stop playing around and get dressed, Connolly. I need to ask you something."

"Better bodies than mine?" snorted Patrick, bearing his teeth in a menacing smile. "I doubt it, Black." He widely smirked at him. "If ye had, yer cheeks wouldn't be blushed and ye wouldn't shy from gazing bellow my waist."

"You're a vain git," scoffed Orion. "I'm not looking down because there's nothing there which interests me. And you're only wasting our time." Then, he instantly whipped out his wand, and swiftly conjured a robe which immediately covered Patrick's body. He smirked with satisfaction, lowering his wand. "Good, now we can talk-"

"Don't ye ever use yer wand on me, boy," snarled Patrick angrily, his amber eyes flashing as he easily ripped the robes off him. "And don't ye ever clothe me with disgusting wizarding robes."

"Wear whatever the bloody hell you want, Connolly," snapped Orion impatiently, scowling at him. "Stay naked, for all I care, but I need to talk to you."

"Then let's talk," said Patrick brusquely, in his low, rough voice, as he swirled around and approached the squared dinning table at one side of the room, beside the unlit fireplace.

Thankfully, Orion saw him picking up a black leather pant from the floor. And once the werewolf pulled it up his muscled legs and zipped it up, he sat down on a wooden chair, across from the man.

"Ye want to talk about the bitch, right?" demanded Patrick gruffly, propping his elbows on the table.

Orion arched an eyebrow. "You mean Nymphadora?"

"Aye, the bitch," spat Patrick harshly, narrowing his amber eyes at him. "She has caused nothing but trouble, Black. Just like I knew she would. Ye shouldn't have left her 'ere with us. She keeps pestering m'Alpha, demanding to be able to leave Lycaon, to go back to Dumbledore and his pathetic group of lil' light wizards." He pierced him with his eyes, and demanded briskly, "Ye said ye would kill her. Well, are ye gonna?"

"Depends," said Orion, smirking at him while he played with his wand, resting his forearms against the edge of the table.

"Depends on what?" snarled Patrick irately, bearing his teeth at him. "The bitch is yer problem. Ye were the one who dropped her on us, and ye're the one who must deal with her, as ye promised to do."

"Oh, I will deal with her," interjected Orion impassively. "But first, I want to know what Remus wouldn't tell me. I want to know about Greyback."

"What for?" growled Patrick, narrowing his amber eyes at him. "I told ye before that it's somethin' that m'Alpha has to tell ye, not I. It's his story."

"But he won't tell me," said Orion curtly. "I already tried once more when he visited me at my manor, about a month ago. I had disclosed many of my own secrets to him, and still, he refused to tell me about it. So, I'm asking you, because I won't kill Nymphadora until I'm aware of what's going on." He pierced him with his eyes. "Because I think you want me to kill her for some specific reason."

"Aye, I do," said Patrick gruffly. He leaned back on his chair, and shifted to a side to plop his calves and bare feet on the table, as he crossed his arms and gazed silently at Orion, pinning him with his amber eyes. At last, he said sharply, "Very well, Black, ye win. I'll tell ye. Just because I want ye to dispose of the bitch."

Orion flippantly gestured at him to continue, shooting him a smirk, and Patrick narrowed his eyes at him as he said brusquely, "What I'm gonna tell ye involves werewolf and pack secrets. If I ever find out that ye have slipped any of this to a wizard-"

"You still mistrust me, Connolly?" said Orion coldly, staring at him with hard gleam in his eyes. "The allegiance I have with Remus is one of mutual loyalty. In the same way that he keeps my secrets, I keep his. And I wouldn't tell anyone about werewolf matters. I'm fully aware that wizards don't know much about werewolves, and it's not my purpose to enlighten them. It will be your kind's, if you ever feel inclined to do so."

Patrick pierced him with his amber eyes, and finally nodded, saying roughly, "Alright, Black. Then let me start by telling ye that an Alpha is always a werewolf born to the previous Alpha-"

"But Remus was born a wizard," interjected Orion, frowning at him. "He became a werewolf because he was bitten, and he's the Alpha even though his parents were a wizard and witch-"

"Let me continue before ye pester me with yer stupid questions," interrupted Patrick angrily, his amber eyes darkly glinting. "As I was sayin', only a werewolf who's the offspring of an Alpha and his mate can become the next Alpha. This is our tradition, to insure that our leader is the strongest one in the pack, since an Alpha always is and so are his offspring. Fenrir's father was an Alpha who mated with a dark witch. And he turned his mate into a werewolf to make sure that his son, Fenrir, would carry the lycanthropic trait. Therefore, Fenrir can be considered a pureblooded werewolf, because both his parents were werewolves when he was conceived, and he's also a dark wizard because his mother was a dark witch – a pureblood, at that. Ye can imagine that Fenrir's mother, being a pureblooded dark witch, wasn't happy when she was turned into a werewolf and mated by Fenrir's father. But there was nothin' she could do about it, since Fenrir's father instantly sensed that she was his mate when he was attacking a wizarding community and crossed paths with her. So-"

"Hang on, I have to ask," said Orion, holding up a hand and intently gazing at him. "Are you telling me that werewolves have one predestined mate, like the veela?"

"Glorious Moon, no," replied Patrick with a scoff. "Thankfully, by nature we aren't that pathetic." He pierced him with his amber eyes, and added briskly, "But we do have a mate, and the inner wolf in us senses him or her. Nevertheless, if that mate died, we wouldn't die a couple of months later, like veela do. Furthermore, if our mate dies, our inner wolf will select another. We are creatures who adapt quickly in order to survive harsh circumstances, like wolves are. But, it is well-known by us that our first mate is the best one chosen by our inner wolf. Any subsequent mates will not satisfy our inner creature as much as our first mate could. Moreover, all of us try to find our original mate and keep him or her with us, always protecting our mate since we know that we won't find another who'll match us so well. And as long as our first mate is alive somewhere, he or her will be the only one for us. Furthermore, if we find our mate and don't claim him or her, or if we go through life without our mate after he was found, then it negatively affects our inner wolf. We become restless, more violent, and I dare say, even unhinged. Because our inner wolf feels that our mate exists, and we're spurred to claim him or her. Another important issue is that the child that we have with our first mate is much stronger and powerful than any offspring that we can have with second mates or non-mates. Furthermore, if a male werewolf has a male mate, then the submissive partner in that couple will naturally be fitted to bear children once he's turned into a werewolf, if he wasn't already."

"You're joking," gasped out Orion, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Of course I'm not," growled Patrick impatiently. "What do ye think is the basic and most important ingredient in the male pregnancy potions that ye wizards use? Blood of a transformed werewolf! We're also hunted down for potions ingredients, Black. There are countless of potions for several purposes which use a transformed werewolf's hairs, claws, or fangs. In the case of the male pregnancy potion, our blood is used." He bared his teeth, and snarled, "Though I've heard that it's one of the most expensive potion ingredients."

"I didn't know about all that," muttered Orion quietly.

"There's much ye don't know about, Black," spat Patrick brusquely.

Orion shot him an amused smirk. "That's not the first time someone has said that to me today."

"I'm glad to know," sneered Patrick in his low, rough voice, "that someone else has been broadening yer mind's limited horizons."

Orion rolled his eyes, and said tartly, "Spare me your puny quips, and get on with it."

"I will if ye shut yer trap, Black!" growled Patrick short-tempered, his scarred eyebrow twitching with irritated annoyance. "Well, now ye know a bit about the mate issue. So let me tell ye why Remus could become m'Alpha when he wasn't born to any previous Alpha. When an Alpha finds his mate and claims him or her, especially if it's the first one originally fit for the Alpha's inner wolf, then that mate has the duty – nay, the obligation, to become the Alpha if his dominant partner and original pack Alpha dies or is, for some reason, unfit to lead the pack or unable to do so." He pierced Orion with his amber eyes, and added sharply, "Ye see, about three decades ago, when Fenrir was hunting in a forest and a ten-year-old Remus was playing around the outskirts, Fenrir's inner wolf instantly sensed his mate – his first one. Therefore, Fenrir could do nothing but bite and turn Remus into a werewolf, and then he claimed him-"

"Remus is Greyback's mate?" interrupted Orion, aghast. Then, his face dramatically paled, and he asked hoarsely, "Claimed him? What do you mean by claiming?"

"That Fenrir fucked him, Black!" spat Patrick impatiently. "What else could I possibly mean?"

Abruptly, Orion irately pounded his fist on the table, and hissed out furiously, "That Greyback RAPED him, you mean! Remus was ten years old, Connolly! And you want me to bring Greyback to Lycaon? You want me to convince Remus to accept him – his rapist?! No wonder Remus hates Fenrir so much! Are you bloody insane? Of course that I won't bring Greyback here-"

"Aye, the ten-year-old Remus was raped," interrupted Patrick brusquely, bearing his teeth at him in a feral snarl. "And it was brutal and savage as all first claimings are, Black! And there's nothin' Fenrir could have done to make it easier on Remus. Fenrir was guided and spurred by his inner wolf, and once a werewolf finds his first mate, he has the need to claim him and turn him into a werewolf. Furthermore, after being fucked, Remus somehow managed to escape, and his parents instantly whisked him away. Then, he was accepted at Hogwarts. And as much as Fenrir tried to steal him back, he didn't succeed. He spent many years without his claimed mate. Do ye have any idea what that does to a werewolf?! And even for more reason when that werewolf is an Alpha and when the mate is his first one? And to make matters worse, when Remus graduated from Hogwarts and worked for the Order of the Phoenix, he was persuaded by Dumbledore to go to Fenrir, to spy on him since Fenrir was Voldemort's supporter. And Remus, like a brainwashed, good, little light wizard, obeyed and formed part of Fenrir's pack under false pretenses. Fenrir, the poor sap, actually believed, at first, that Remus was accepting him as a mate. Obviously, Fenrir soon discovered that Remus really didn't want anything to do with him, that he was only spying for Dumbledore, and that he despised him with seething hatred. And yes, during that period Fenrir constantly fucked Remus. The Moon knows that Fenrir is a savage brute, but it was his way of reclaiming Remus and trying to make him understand that they were mates. Nevertheless, I was told that Fenrir had never been so content and appeased as he was during that period of time, when he had Remus with him. And it might be probable that Remus had started to accept him. Indeed, Remus' inner wolf would have made sure of that. The bond between mates isn't one easily ignored."

Patrick pierced him with narrowed, amber eyes, and continued brusquely, "Of course that everything crumbled when ye were a one-year-old baby and felled the Dark Lord. Then, Fenrir was captured and thrown into Azkaban, Remus' light friends died, yer father was imprisoned, and Remus disappeared to spend his years secluded in a crumbling cottage in some forest, like a hermit. And it was during that period that both Remus and Fenrir suffered the most, because they were mates who felt each other but couldn't be together. Oh, I don't delude myself. Remus didn't want to be with Fenrir, but his inner wolf still longed for his mate, Black. Furthermore, imagine what Fenrir had to go through during his years at Azkaban. Affected by Dementors, his worst memories constantly replaying in his mind, probably regarding Remus' hatred towards him, and to top it, he was an Alpha separated from his first claimed mate. As I said, a werewolf becomes unhinged and violent if he spends too much time without his mate, and an Alpha is affected even more deeply."

He paused, and then snarled angrily, "So yes, I want ye to bring Fenrir to Lycaon, because Remus needs to accept his mate. There's no other solution for 'em. They will always be unsatisfied unless they are together. Even if Fenrir died, and then Remus' inner wolf selected another mate, Remus would never be as content as he could be with his first original mate – Fenrir. Furthermore, Remus is the submissive one, and as such, since Fenrir turned him into a werewolf, he has the natural capacity to bear children. And that's another reason why the pack wants Fenrir to come back, beside the whole issue that Fenrir is the Sire of many of us. It's because the next Alpha has to be the child that Remus bears to Fenrir. And he or she will be powerful and a pureblooded werewolf, because both Remus and Fenrir are werewolves and Alphas. There's no better future Alpha for us than that child. And Remus became our Alpha because he is Fenrir's mate, since, when Fenrir was broken out from Azkaban, he was too wild and unhinged to be a fit Alpha. That's why his pack left him to join Remus, and Fenrir didn't really oppose it, because as an Alpha's mate Remus had the chance to become the Alpha, and to be accepted as such. What's more, since everyone thinks that Remus has been an excellent Alpha, especially for founding and building up Lycaon, he won't lose his position if Fenrir came here. Indeed, nothing would please us more than having both of 'em as our Alphas. Having two Alphas isn't common, by it has happened in the past when those Alphas were mates. And all of us wants this, because it would reassure us with a future Alpha, the child of Fenrir and Remus. And also because having both of 'em as Alphas will make our pack stronger, more united, and powerful, since our inner wolves would detect 'em working together, as Alpha mates. Do ye understand, Black?"

"I…" Orion heavily sighed, and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, I do, Connolly." He shot him a piercing gaze, and demanded sharply, "And this is the real reason why you want me to kill Nymphadora, right? Because she-"

"Because she's like a bitch in heat crawling all over m'Alpha," growled Patrick, angrily baring his teeth, his expression feral while his amber eyes darkened menacingly. "And because m'Alpha likes her and he's at risk of being swindled by her. M'Alpha is a stern, just, and firm leader with us, but he's gentle and too permissive with her. And he obviously doesn't put her in her place. If Remus wants to fuck her, like the bitch she is, then that's fine by me. But another thing is for him to develop feelings for her when he already has a mate! And the bitch has the gall to declare that she's in love with him. She doesn't know what love is! She'll never be able to give Remus what Fenrir can. She's not one of us. And even if Remus turned her, which he wouldn't, his inner wolf wouldn't choose her as his mate, because he already has one. And I bet you anything that if Fenrir died, Remus' inner wolf still wouldn't choose her. We, werewolves, can sense this. And so does Remus, but he's too good-hearted to expressly cut short her advances. And we fear that she might end up wearing him out, and that he'll yield and take her as a partner." He pierced Orion with his amber eyes, and snarled, "And that's something which has to be prevented since Lycaon will be much stronger with Fenrir and Remus together as Alpha mates. As it stands, Remus is Fenrir's, and Fenrir is Remus'. And the sooner m'Alpha accepts this, the better for us."

"I see," muttered Orion pensively, with a deep frown on his face.

"Will ye kill her, then?" demanded Patrick brusquely, narrowing his amber at him, expectantly scrutinizing him.

"I will," replied Orion firmly, glancing up and meeting his gaze. "I have my own reasons to do so, but I understand what you've told me. And I cannot deny that it's obvious that Greyback and Remus belong together, since their inner wolves made them mates. One cannot go against a creature's nature." He sighed, and added with a hint of worry, "But the most important matter is for Remus to accept Greyback. And how can this be possible given Remus' hatred for him?"

"It won't matter," said Patrick, his lips curling into a wide smirk, while his amber eyes glinted with satisfaction, "because at some point Remus' inner wolf will make him accept his mate. Remus won't be able to fight it. As you said, one cannot go against a creature's nature. And we certainly cannot go against our inner wolf."

"Fine," said Orion sharply, intently gazing at him. "I will kill Nymphadora, and when I have a chance, I'll contact Greyback and bring him here. And you will have the task of working on Remus, to prepare him to accept Greyback. This is something you must do since you're in Lycaon, and since you're his Beta. Furthermore, I'll need something distinctive that belongs to you, so that I can show it to Greyback. I haven't seen him in ages, but the first time I met him was during a Death Eater gathering, when I was much younger." He shot him a wide smirk. "And I tortured him to prove my worth to Voldemort. And since I don't want to be mauled by Greyback in revenge, I will need to show him something of yours which will convince him of my 'good intentions'. Do you agree?"

"Aye," replied Patrick in his low, rough voice, smirking back at him. "I do, with everything ye've said."

The werewolf pushed his wild, curly hair away from one ear, and Orion arched an eyebrow when he caught sight of the pierced earlobe which displayed a tiny earring. Patrick clicked it off, and tossed it at him. "Here, show that to Fenrir, and he'll know it's from me. He gave me that as a birthday present."

Orion deftly grasped it in mid air and glanced at it to discover a tiny, silver half-moon. Obviously, it couldn't be made of silver, but it looked as if it was. And suppressing a chuckle, he pocketed it, while he shot the werewolf a wide, mocking smirk. "Very cute, Connolly."

"I don't do 'cute', Black," growled Patrick, menacingly bearing his teeth at him.

"Neither do I," said Orion nonchalantly. "So tell that Moonbeam of yours that the next time she says I'm cute, I'll viciously curse her."

Patrick nastily smirked at him. "But she was right, you are cute. What, with that pretty, delicate face of yers, and with yer petite size-"

"It seems that we'll be closely working together, given that you're Remus' Beta," interrrupted Orion coolly. "So you'll have to learn to respect me, Connolly."

"I'll respect ye, Black," said Patrick in his low, rough voice, "when ye earn it."

"Then I will have it in no time," interjected Orion impassively, swiftly standing up.

"We'll see," said Patrick gruffly.

Orion smirked at him. "Yes, we will. Now let's to go Remus' lodge. I want to introduce you to my father."

"Yer father?" said Patrick, arching his scarred eyebrow, before he sneered, "Yer father was Kissed, Black. Yer father is dead."

"Yup, but I resurrected him," piped in Orion nonchalantly, swiftly reaching the door and opening it.

"Come again?"

Orion side-glanced at him, as they made their way along the pebbled path. "What you heard, Connolly."

"So the rumors are true?" whispered Patrick brusquely, narrowing his amber eyes at him. "Ye're a full-fledged Necromancer?"

"Is that the latest gossip?" said Orion with amusement. "I'm not full-fledged, at present, but I am a Necromancer."

"Ye studied it with Vagnarov?"

Orion stopped short in his tracks, and sharply glanced at him with narrowed eyes, as he demanded crisply, "How do you know about Vagnarov?"

"Please, Black," scoffed Patrick. "To which school do ye think I went before Fenrir turned me into a werewolf?"

"You went to Durmstrang?" said Orion, stunned.

"Of course," replied Patrick harshly. "Ye know that I come from an Irish dark pureblood family. Where else would I have studied? Though I only attended up until my third year. Because my parents disinherited me the moment I was bitten and turned into a werewolf during my summer holidays in Wiltshire, with my English uncle. And since I had no family or home left, Fenrir, as my Sire, took me into his pack. But before, I was a Hydra and thus, I heard the older Hydras' gossip about Vagnarov and his Necromancy class. Not that anyone attended it during the three years I spent at Durmstrang." He side-glanced at him, and added gruffly, "What's more, ye've probably seen my little brother there. He's a Gorgon, I think, in second year. Though I never met him. My parents decided to have him after I became a werewolf, because they needed a new Connolly Heir."

"Oh," murmured Orion quietly.

Patrick shot him a vicious smirk. "Yeah – 'oh'." He shook his head, and sneered harshly, "Is that the best yer lil' wizard brain can produce, Black?"

"Was I supposed to commiserate with you?" interjected Orion, with a roll of his eyes. "You seem pretty happy and proud about being a werewolf. So you might have cared about your parents replacing you by purposely having another son, and thus losing your position as the Connolly Heir. But I doubt that it matters to you any longer."

"Quite right, it doesn't," said Patrick, his lips stretching into a feral curl.

"Good, so stop whining-"

"I don't whine, Black," spat Patrick, narrowing irate amber eyes at him.

Orion groaned with exasperation. "Whatever. Look, I'm counting on your support to deal with Remus when I kill Nymphadora. Alright? So let's get moving."

He swiftly took the two steps up towards the front door of Remus' lodge, and he was about to open it when Patrick mused gruffly, "If yer father is alive, then I can't call ye 'Black' anymore." He nastily smirked at him, and added, "Aye, I know. I'll do as m'Alpha and call ye 'cub', or better yet, 'cubbie'."

"Call me either of those things and I'll hex your balls off, Connolly," snapped Orion crisply. "But you can take a leaf out of a Death Eater's book and call me 'My Lord Black'."

"Lord Black?" snorted Patrick snidely. "The day I call you 'Lord anything' will be the day I stop fucking."

"I can easily make that happen," said Orion, shooting him a vicious smirk. "Keep tempting me and I'll scorch off your bits, wolfie. Now, let's get on with it."

And without giving Patrick a chance to quip in any nasty retort, he pushed the door wide open, with wand immediately aimed forward and a spell on his lips.


	19. Nymphadora's fate & Patrick

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Thanks to all reviewers! Now, this a relatively short chapter, because I thought it best to cut in two some part of the action. But the good stuff will come in the next chappie. I hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

**Chapter 19**

'Avada Kedavra!' was the first thing that wanted to slip from Orion's lips as he barged into the lodge, just as Sirius, Remus and Nymphadora swirled around to gaze at him, startled, since it seemed they had been in the middle of an argument. Nevertheless, he was very aware that if he outright killed Nymphadora, Remus would never forgive him. And he couldn't risk his allegiance with the werewolves. Therefore, he settled for another spell.

Nymphadora had immediately narrowed her eyes at him, and she snapped angrily, "You! You were the one who brought me here, and who's made Remus-"

"Stupefy!" spat Orion, instantly having pointed his wand at her.

Surprised, without having the chance of defending herself, the witch was struck by the spell and loudly crashed to the floor, unconscious.

"Why did you do that?" gasped out Remus, quickly kneeling by the witch's side to gently prop her head on his lap, as he gazed up at Orion uncomprehendingly. "Sirius told us you had brought him so that he could stay for a couple of days. He's more than welcomed, cub, so why did you attack Tonks?"

"M'Alpha, excuse us for barging in, in this manner," said Patrick in his low, rough voice, while he lowered on one knee and stretched his neck to a side, offering it to Remus in submission, "but we have an important issue to discuss with ye." He shot the unresponsive witch a contemptuous glance, and added with as much politeness as he could muster, "Perhaps it would be best if she rested on the couch, while we take a seat and discuss matters, m'Alpha."

Remus' gaze flickered from Orion to the young werewolf and back, a frown spreading on his forehead, but he still didn't move from his place. Finally, Orion impatiently flicked his wand and Nymphadora was hefted in mid air, before she was unceremoniously dropped on the couch, as if moved by an invisible force.

Satisfied, he turned around and calmly sat on one of the chairs along the table, gesturing at the rest to do the same.

"Ah, I understand what all of this is about," said Remus quietly, once everyone had gathered around the table, while he pierced Orion with his eyes. His jaw clenched, and he added in a low voice, "The 'issue' my Beta mentioned is what to do with Tonks, correct? I will not let you kill her, cub-"

"Before we get into a heated argument," piped in Sirius, nonchalantly gesturing at the younger werewolf, "can anyone tell me who's this?"

"This is Patrick Connolly," replied Orion with a smirk, "Remus' Beta. I told you about him, Dad."

"Oh, yeah," muttered Sirius, his dark grey eyes pinning Patrick with a speculative and gauging gaze.

With veiled amusement, Orion observed how the two of them measured each other up. Patrick smirking with a feral glint in his eyes, his manner highly self-confident, while Sirius narrowed his eyes, his expression a tad sulky. And he surmised that his father didn't like to have a competitor for Remus' attention and friendship.

"Ah, before we discuss Nymphadora," said Orion calmly, "there's something I need to tell you." He side-glanced at Patrick, and murmured, "Well, I suppose Connolly can hear about it too." He gazed back at his father and Remus, and said coolly, "Voldemort broke it off with me, a month and a half ago. And he'll sever the marital magical bond between us, at some point… Actually, I don't know why he hasn't done it already… Anyway, he will. So I'm no longer his spouse – just merely his war ally."

Instantly, Sirius surged up to his feet and swiftly leaned down to tightly hug him, as he cried ecstatically, "This is the best news you could have ever given me, pup! I'm so relieved – I'm so HAPPY!"

"You got dumped, cubbie?" said Patrick contently, shooting him a nasty smirk.

Remus pierced Orion with his eyes, his expression somber and worried, as he murmured, "I was right, wasn't I? You went forth with it, and it ended badly. You went forth with the threesome-"

"The – the WHAT?!" choked out Sirius in a high-pitch, snapping his head up as he released Orion from the cheerful embrace.

Orion malevolently gazed at Remus, his dark expression promising retribution. And he was answered by Remus shooting him a sheepish glance, looking sincerely contrite and apologetic, as he mouthed, 'It slipped. Sorry, cub.'

"That – that monster forced you to sleep with another at the same time?!" roared Sirius, looking quite demented, his face thunderous and fierce. "That murdering madman forced you to be shared?! He defiled your-"

"Relax, father," interjected Orion calmly, waving a hand dismissively. "Voldemort didn't force me into anything. I slept with Rabastan because I wanted to-"

"Rabastan? Rabastan LESTRANGE?!" spluttered Sirius, his eyes practically bulging out. He gazed down at Orion, leveling him with a lethal, furious stare. "Are you insane?! How could you sleep with someone like Rabastan Lestrange? Do you have any idea of what that man is capable of?!" He ripped his sleeve up, revealing his Dark Mark, as he continued heatedly, "I saw him in action when I was spying on Voldemort, pup! Rabastan Lestrange savagely tortured muggles and captured wizards with his bloody daggers – that man's a deranged, psychotic sadist, and you-"

"Oh, so that's what he normally uses his daggers for?" said Orion, highly curious and interested. He shot him a placid smile. "Well, he didn't torture me, father. He only used his daggers for a little blood play, though it was very brief. I was rather… impatient." His smile stretched into a pleased smirk. "And I enjoyed him a lot. But I'm not planning on shagging him again, so relax."

Sirius plopped down on his chair, gazing at him as if he didn't know who he was looking at anymore. Then, he shook his head, and bemoaned, "My pup in a threesome… I never expected parenthood to be this tough…"

"You're a good father, Padfoot," interjected Remus soothingly, patting the wizard's back, "but Orion's mature enough to decide who he wants to sleep with."

"My, my, ye're full of surprises, cubbie," said Patrick in a low voice, revealing his teeth in a wide smirk. "An innocent-looking, good lil' boy like ye engaging in a threesome… and savoring it too, by the sound of it."

"You've no idea just how very full of surprises I am, wolfie," countered Orion, smirking back at him.

"Who knows about this?" asked Remus quietly, intently gazing at him. "Who knows that you aren't Voldemort's spouse any longer?"

"My expanded DA, the Elite, and Severus," replied Orion impassively, purposely not mentioning Grindelwald since Patrick was present. "I wrote to Severus two days ago, to inform him-"

"You told Snivellus before telling me?" groused out Sirius disbelievingly, looking deeply hurt.

Orion sighed, and said gently, "I told him because he's a Death Eater who spies on Voldemort for me. Granted, it's been a while since he hasn't been able to fill me with the information he has gathered. He can't whilst we are at Hogwarts, since even though he's still my legal guardian and despite that I supposedly changed my ways thanks to his guidance, we act as if we barely tolerate each other – for Dumbledore's benefit. And when I don't have a valid reason to go to his office, we only communicate by letter if the matter is of importance. And since he's a spy, he needed to know about this."

"What did he reply?" asked Remus, with a grave and pensive expression on his face.

"Nothing much," said Orion dismissively, while he remembered with amusement what the wizard had written back.

Severus' terse letter had simply said: 'You're a dim-witted, half-brained, pubescent imbecile. We'll discuss the matter soon.' And Orion had merely arched an eyebrow, wondering who had pissed in the man's cauldron.

"So what does this mean?" said Sirius eagerly, gazing at him expectantly. "Now that you'll no longer be Voldemort's spouse, will you kill him? You never told us how many there are, or what they are, but I suppose that you're going to look for them, right? To destroy his hor-"

"Hush!" snapped Orion, briefly side-glancing at Patrick, before he narrowed his eyes at his father. "No, I'm not. If anything, I'll protect them from Dumbledore. As I said, I'm still Voldemort's ally. So, obviously, I won't kill him. I'm simply not his spouse anymore."

"Well, that's good enough for me," said Sirius cheerfully, brightening up.

"I'm glad," said Orion dryly, before he deeply frowned. "Tell me something, Dad, you've never felt your Dark Mark burning, not even once?"

"No," replied Sirius, his expression becoming puzzled. "It's the first time I think about it. And it's strange, isn't it? I would have expected Voldemort-"

"To use you to have something to hold over me," said Orion, nodding at him. "Yes, precisely." A frown marred his forehead once again, and he muttered, "I wonder what he's up to…" Then he shook his head, and glanced at Remus. "Anyway, let's discuss the important issue at present. Nymphadora-"

"You said," interrupted Remus sternly, "that you were going to give her some months to think about her allegiances-"

"I said I was going to give her one or two months, at most," interjected Orion coolly. "It's been about two months already." He leveled him with a hard gaze. "And before my father came into your lodge, we heard what she was saying. She hasn't changed her loyalties, Remus. You know what that means."

"I told you I'm against it," said Remus sharply, piercing him with his amber eyes. "I won't let you kill her, cub."

"She has to die," retorted Orion crisply. "She's a liability and I can no longer afford that. What's more, she wouldn't be able to stay in Lycaon, under your watch, forever. Soon, you'll be very busy when battles and aggressions commence – when the war really erupts."

"I could take her with me," interjected Remus. "I'm perfectly able to hold her by my side so that she doesn't go to Dumbledore."

"And she would only be a distraction," pointed out Orion curtly. "You're England's Alpha, part of the Dark Allies, as well as my supporter. You'll be too busy and you cannot waste time by baby-sitting her. Furthermore, we're only inviting disaster by letting her live. The first chance she gets, she'll go to Dumbledore, the Ministry or the Order, to spill about everything she knows about us and the Dark's plans for the war."

Remus shot him a hard glance. "You casted a compulsion mind web on her. She won't say anything-"

"She won't about me, but she can reveal the Dark's plans," interrupted Orion in a steely tone of voice. "And even if I obliaviated her or casted another mind web compulsion on her, she'll still look for an opportunity to go back being an Auror and to work for the Order. She'll be one more enemy to defeat at the battlefield. It's best to get rid of her now."

"Aye, m'Alpha," growled Patrick, his amber eyes flashing with a feral gleam. "She's nothing but trouble for ye."

"I agree with my son," interjected Sirius with a heavy sigh, as he gazed at his best friend with a beseeching expression on his face. "It's best for all of us if she dies, to make sure she won't go to Dumbledore to spill the beans."

"I had expected that you, of all people, would back me up on this, Padfoot," said Remus quietly, his voice carrying a hint of hurt disappointment. "She's my… friend. And she's also your niece."

"I know, Moony," murmured Sirius, his expression hardening to become resolved. "But she's a risk. I'm with Orion on this."

Remus' eyes flashed golden, and he pounded a fist on the table, as he said in a low, firm voice, "I will not let anyone kill her." His gaze snapped to Orion and he said sharply, "I will turn her into a werewolf, if I must, to reassure you that I'll control her and that she won't go to Dumbledore, the Ministry or the Order."

From the periphery of his vision, Orion caught sight of Patrick baring his teeth in a silent yet furious snarl, the young werewolf's shoulders tensing. Nymphadora becoming a werewolf was certainly the last thing that Patrick wanted.

He sighed and carded his fingers through his hair, before he pierced Remus with his eyes and said quietly, "I won't change my mind. She has to die. She's a wild card, a liability – a risk and loose end in my plans. Turning her into a werewolf won't change that." He intently gazed at him, and added pointedly, "And you're only deluding yourself by keeping her by your side. She's not the one for you, Remus. You know that you have to acknowledge Greyback eventually."

In a whiplash, Remus' eyes snapped to Patrick with a furious and menacing gleam in them, and Orion immediately added in a steely tone of voice, "Don't look at him. He only told me what you should have. I disclosed to you all my secrets, Remus. Everything. Yet, you couldn't tell me one crucial little thing about yourself. That's a breach of trust, in my opinion."

"It was personal," said Remus stiffly, his jaw clenching.

"And everything I told you wasn't?!" spat Orion heatedly, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Hey," interjected Sirius befuddled, his gaze flickering from one to the other, "what are you talking about? What's this about Greyback?"

Instantly, Remus shot Orion a warning glance, his expression stern. And Orion simply nodded. He got the message; the werewolf didn't want Sirius to know that he was Greyback's mate or that he had been raped when he was ten years old. And Orion heartily agreed with the latter. Merlin knew what Sirius' thoughtless impulsiveness would drive him to do if he discovered that his only best friend left had been raped as a child.

"Isn't anyone going to answer me?" asked Sirius, miffed.

"It's something between Remus and me," said Orion dismissively, before he pinned Remus with a hard gaze. "Now, let me get to the point. I will not argue this matter any longer. Tomorrow's Saturday and I have to get to Durmstrang. Therefore, I will kill Nymphadora now, and be done with it. The best I can offer is to give her a fair chance in a duel."

"That's not a fair chance," said Remus sternly. "You're much more powerful than she is-"

"There's nothing I can do about that," interrupted Orion coolly. "It's either a duel or I kill her right away. And if you interfere, I'll simply render you unconscious. You don't have to watch the duel if you don't want to."

"Moony, it's the only solution," said Sirius quietly, gazing beseechingly at his best friend. "Orion can give her a swift death. If Nymphadora went back to Dumbledore, the old man would simply make her spy in Death Eater ranks again. And Voldemort knows about her already. He would eventually torture her." He grimaced. "A swift death is preferable to that, Moony. And as Orion said, you cannot spend all your time watching her so that she won't betray us."

"How can I possibly agree to this, Padfoot?" murmured Remus somberly. "How can I allow an innocent witch to be killed-"

"She's not innocent!" snapped Orion impatiently. "She's an Auror, Order member, spy, and bloodtraitor. In short, an enemy. Someone who knows too much about me and our plans. Even if I obliviated her, she would still be a problem because she would be one more Auror to fight in the battlefield."

Remus shook his head, and said quietly, "I cannot condone this-"

"Enough," said Orion sharply, as he pressed his palms on the table and stood up. "We've wasted enough time on this matter. I'll duel her, and that's it. There's nothing you can reproach yourself for, nor me. We gave her a chance to change her mind. We gave her two months, and still, she refused to change her allegiances."

He swiftly aimed his wand at the witch spread on the couch, and flicked it, making her hover in mid-air. Then he glanced at Remus over his shoulder, and said shortly, "Bring her wand with you. I'll duel her at the forest clearing – the one that's at the outskirts of Lycaon."

* * *

As soon as they left the lodge, with the stupefied witch hovering after Orion, the citizens of Lycaon had caught sight of them and instantly followed – just as he had planned and hoped. While they made their procession through the village, towards the forest clearing which was several feet away from Lycaon's main gate, Remus and Sirius had lagged behind, engaged in a murmured conversation. Indubitably, his father was further persuading Remus that the duel was the best solution. Meanwhile, Orion reached the forest's clearing with Patrick striding along his side. The werewolf seemed enthusiastic about the whole matter, with a satisfied and feral smirk curling his lips.

At last, he flicked his wand and the unconscious witch settled on the ground, amidst the vast expanse of grass. And Orion finally gazed at his audience, inwardly pleased. The duel would be swift, but he planned on making it a bit spectacular. It was time that he showed Lycaon's werewolves just what he could do.

Remus still seemed very reluctant, his expression grave and somber, while Sirius had thrown a supportive arm over the werewolf's shoulders. But the crowd of spectators looked eager. It appeared that the whole of Lycaon had gathered there, even the children. And all of them seemed to know what was going to happen, since their expectant gazes flickered from Nymphadora to him. It was certain that the witch wasn't loved or accepted by them. And it was thanks to the crowd and their reaction, that Orion knew that Remus wasn't stopping him right now. As an Alpha, Remus couldn't allow to be perceived as 'weak' by his packs. That was exactly why Orion had suggested that the duel took place at the clearing, since he knew that they would be followed once they made their way through the village.

And before Remus could do anything to prevent it, Orion quickly flicked his wand and raised a circular ward around him and the unconscious witch, leaving enough space for a duel. The ward wouldn't allow anyone through, and they wouldn't hear or see anything from outside of it. Though the audience would be able to hear and see what happened inside.

Satisfied, now for all purposes alone with Nymphadora, he aimed his wand at her, and said loudly, "Ennervate!"

The witch gasped in a breath of air and her eyes instantly flew open, before she looked around, alarmed and confused.

Delving a hand into his pocket, Orion plucked out the wand Remus had previously handed to him, and he tossed it to the witch. "Take it, Nymphadora. It's your wand, you'll need it. We're going to have a little duel between us."

"Don't call me Nymphadora!" snapped the witch, instantly grabbing her wand and jumping to her feet, aiming at him while she glanced around with a deep frown on her face. "What's going on? Where's Remus? And what's that blue thing?"

"That's a containment ward, obviously," said Orion impassively. "Remus is outside of it. Don't even bother to call for him, he can't pass through. And as I said, we're going to have a duel - till death."

"So you want to kill me, kid?" said Nymphadora, narrowing her eyes at him. She shook her head and said adamantly, "Look… Orion, I'm not going to fight a child. I'm an Auror and I have my principles-"

"You're concerned about me?" scoffed Orion, with a roll of his eyes. "In this duel, you should be worried about yourself." He pierced her with her eyes, and added sharply, "I'm not a child, _Tonks_. And you can stuff your Auror 'principles' - as if there was such thing. You're going to duel me, and do it until one of us dies. And I assure you that it will be you. Surely you're not that stupid. Surely you've heard that I'm powerful. So spare me your 'principles' and fight."

Nymphadora eyed him with a hard expression on her face, and said stiffly, "You've got things wrong. You've been brainwashed and manipulated by You-Know-Who. But I can help you. Let's go to Dumbledore, and-"

"Spare me that as well," snapped Orion impatiently. "I don't have time to chit-chat. So attack me once and for all. I'm giving you that advantage."

"I will not duel a teenager," interjected Nymphadora firmly, shaking her head and making her wild, purple hair swish in the air.

"Merlin's staff, you are stupid," said Orion with exasperation. He regarded her coldly, and finally said with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders, "Fine. You had your chance."

Then, he swiftly aimed his wand at her, and spat, "Riptus viscus!"

A violet beam of light shot from his wand, the entrails-ripping dark curse hurtling towards her, and in a flash, she had swirled to a side and conjured a metal plank which absorbed the curse.

Orion smiled at her, pleased. At least, the normally clumsy witch was deft in a duel. It was obvious, too, that she knew her Defense against the Dark Arts.

"Incarcerous!" yelled Nymphadora quickly, regaining her attack-stance.

Immediately, Orion wandlessly pulled up a shield-bubble around him, while he snorted as the spell ricocheted off. "You'll have to try harder than that. Oculus extracto!"

She shrieked in horror, barely saving herself by leaping to a side, as the eye-gouging dark curse careened towards her, almost striking her. She hit the ground with a painful groan, and rolled on it, before she hastily jumped to her feet, and roared, "Petrificus totalus! Lingua refurlo!"

"Obscurita protectum," said Orion calmly with a lazy flick of his wand, and the temporary shield shimmered before him, making the incoming spell and the other curse fade as soon as they struck it, while he arched an eyebrow.

The last curse she had shot at him was borderline dark, surely taught to her by her once Auror-mentor, Alastor Moody. Well, she had some talent, but not enough. They continued trading curses and spells, but it was evident that she was out of her league. He never had the necessity to move from his place, while she had to swirl and jump to sides in order to save herself from curses.

And up until that moment, Orion hadn't truly realized how much he had learned with Grindelwald. Given that the German wizard was always his dueling-partner, he had become used to battling someone as powerful and skillful as him. Therefore, now, merely fighting an Auror was too easy for him. As they volleyed curses back and forth - his always dark and hers light or borderline dark- Orion soon became bored. He countered anything she shot at him without needing to think twice, just with a mere flick of his wand. A powerful shield was enough, or merely conjuring something to block the incoming spell sufficed.

After about ten minutes, she had several deep cuts along her legs and torso, and one of her arms was limply swinging. And Orion deemed that he had to put an end to it. It wasn't his purpose to torture her, after all. Though, he wanted to kill her with some display of his true abilities. Ultimately, her death would be useful in that way, and therefore not in vain.

When Nymphadora unsteadily stood up after his latest attack, haggardly panting for air, Orion swiftly pocketed his wand, and calmly spread a hand forward.

"What are you doing?" she yelled annoyed. "Use your wand, kid! I won't stop now. You wanted to duel-"

"Good. Don't stop," said Orion impassively, before he shot her a wide smile, "because I'm not. But I don't need my wand for this part."

"What?!" snapped Nymphadora hotly. "Of course you need a wand-"

"You talk too much," said Orion with irritation. "A duel is not a tête à tête, witch!"

She glowered at him. "What are you-"

But Orion didn't give her a chance to pester him any longer, and with his dark magic already animatedly bubbling and rushing inside him, he allowed it to channel forth and erupt from his spread palm. A constant spurt of black water shot outwards, unfurling in undulating waves and swiftly enveloping all of her. Her startled scream was muffled as soon as she was trapped in the swirling sphere of black water, made by his unique dark magic in that elemental-form. And directing it with his hand, Orion made it rise high above the ground.

The huge orb of rippling, black water reached the tree-tops, and Orion could barely discern her inside. He caught sight of some blurry limbs moving, and a hand briefly poked out, moving frenziedly, before it was swallowed back in. And she was surely choking and starting to drown inside.

At last, Orion spread his fingers wider apart, in a swift move, making the sphere of undulating water split apart in half. Instantly, Nymphadora dropped out of it, free-falling from the great height, and her body crashed loudly against the ground. She barely moved, only jerkily, with one leg snapped at a bizarre angle, and copious blood spurting from her lips and head.

Finally, he made the half-split sphere of water turn into sharp fragments of black ice, and he flipped his hand downwards. The blades of ice instantly rushed down, shooting like bullets in a rain of spikes, and her body was instantly pierced by them, repeatedly.

An agonizing scream gurgled from her mouth, splashing blood on her face, and Orion calmly approached her. Though, when he reached her and coolly gazed down at her, she was already dead. Her purple hair had turned to her original black waves, and her once blue eyes were now her natural dark gray, with her pupils dilated.

He aimed his wand at her, one last time, and said firmly, "Incendia mortem!"

A great, blazing, burning pyre engulfed the witch's corpse, and in a few seconds her body, flesh and bones, had turned into scorched dust. Just like he had done once to Dietrich Emmerich when the wizard had died in Nurmengard, in self-sacrifice.

Highly satisfied, and feeling himself brimming with his dark magic, Orion turned around towards the wards he had raised. His face revealed nothing, but inwardly he felt joyously ecstatic. His dark magic was buzzing inside him, encompassing him with an overpowering sense, and he had missed feeling like that. He had missed it so much. Therefore, he didn't do anything to settle it down inside him, and he allowed himself to savor it for a while longer.

He flicked his wand, instantly bringing down the wards, before he placed it in his right wand-holster. As soon as the ward disappeared, he could finally see the others, and he calmly gauged their reactions.

The werewolves, women and men, were animatedly whispering among themselves, their expressions stunned yet also awed and dazzled, as they glanced at him. Merlin, even the children didn't seem spooked, but rather excited by what they had seen. And that reinforced his idea that werewolves were indeed accustomed to a harsh and rough life, and that they were brought up to be warriors. Though he surmised that they he owed the latter to Greyback, since the man was the Sire of most of them and he had surely trained his pack members to be ruthless fighters, accustomed to gruesome blood-shed.

Then he caught sight of three men who stood slightly apart from the rest. Patrick was eyeing him strangely, though his lips were curled into a smirk. Sirius was staring at him with wide eyes, his face pale and aghast. While Remus was piercing him with darkened amber eyes, the werewolf's expression grave, but other than that, he couldn't quite discern what the man was thinking or feeling.

Swiftly, he reached them with a couple of long strides. And the instant he stood before them, he felt something abruptly striking his face. He was forcefully backhanded, sharp fingernails scratching along with the hard slap, and his head snapped to side, as he felt small drops of blood trickling down.

Shocked, Orion automatically pressed a palm against his burning cheek, and he gazed up at Remus with wide eyes.

"You said it was going to be swift," growled Remus in a low voice, his expression thunderous and furious, while his amber eyes were darkly flashing, though there was also the bright gleam of tears in them. "You said it would be painless."

"I certainly never said it would be painless for her," interjected Orion quietly. "And Sirius said it would be swift, not I." Then, he angrily narrowed his eyes at him, and instantly caught the man's chin, forcing him to look at the crowd, as he hissed irately, "Never hit me again. Never undermine my position in public again, Remus. And look at your people. Do you see their satisfaction? Do you see the staggered respect in their eyes?"

"Respect for you," spat Remus bitingly, wrenching his chin free from Orion's grasp, as he narrowed his eyes at him. "And what I understand is that you used Tonks to display your power. To add to your mystique." He lowered his voice to a sharp, inaudible whisper, "To show yourself as the VA."

"I did," said Orion unrepentantly. "They didn't know about my true abilities, and I showed them a bit. All in all, you can say that she didn't die in vain."

Remus shook his head, his features turning grieved and somber, and Orion added quietly and pointedly, "And you can't cry, Remus, or they'll look down on you."

"I need to be alone," said Remus tightly, swiftly turning around without casting him a second glance.

Orion observed him in silence as the man made his way into Lycaon, the rest of the werewolves soon following their Alpha. Many shot him lingering glances, several bowed to him, and some even smiled. And with that, inwardly smirking and highly pleased, Orion just knew that other wheels had been spurred into motion… more reverent gossips, more awe-struck rumors, more fodder for legends…

"Did you have to be so… ruthless with her?" muttered Sirius, his expression still appalled, and his tone reproving. "Did you have to kill her so gruesomely – so cruelly?"

"It wasn't cruel," said Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. "Cruel would have been for me to use my Necromantic abilities to tear her soul from her body and then destroy it. That would have been cruel. She's dead, yes, but her soul passed to the next plane. I didn't eliminate her."

Sirius heavily sighed, jerkily carding his fingers through his hair. "Remus wanted to send her body to her parents, for a proper burial. But you messed her up too badly and then burned her body, son-"

"Of course I burned it," interrupted Orion shortly. "Precisely because I knew that Remus would want to do that. And I rather have Andromeda and her muggleborn husband waste time and resources trying to find their daughter, instead of them knowing that she's dead and seeking out revenge. Like this, they will keep looking for Nymphadora and they'll probably ask the Order to help them. Thus, making them waste _their_ time. You can call it, if you want, a dilatory and diversionary tactic. And I burned Nymphadora's body to ashes in dark pureblood fashion. It was done properly. If Remus wants to gather her ashes and bury them here, then he can do so."

"He'll need time to recover from this, pup," said Sirius quietly, with a pained expression on his face. "But he'll forgive you, in the end. It's just that… we'll it was a shock to us, to see you like that, doing those things… You had told us about your… er, powers… but we never saw you using them… So it was hard-"

"He has nothing to forgive me for," interjected Orion coolly. "He knew I was going to duel her and he knew I'm powerful-"

"And he tried to cross the wards to stop it," interrupted Sirius sternly, "when he saw how far you were taking it."

Orion gaze at him intently, and said quietly, "That's his mistake and problem, father. I won't apologize to him for having killed Nymphadora, nor for the way in which I did." He pierced him with his eyes, and added sharply, "What's more, you'll all have to get used to see me 'this way', because I'll be like this and much more ruthless in battle."

"Fine, pup, fine," said Sirius with a deep sigh. He absentmindedly patted his shoulder. "I'll leave to be with him now."

"Wait," whispered Orion, staring up at him, "there's one thing I have to tell you. You can stay here during the weekend, and enjoy yourself, but I want you to go to Dumbledore on Monday. I want you to earn his trust, become an Order member, and start spying for me. And it must be done as soon as possible – on Monday, since school lets out in a week. And Draco will finish his 'task' someday during the week, I hope! Also, you'll have to buy a wand which chooses you. You cannot keep using the standard wand that Daisy bought for you. Ollivander is still being held by Voldemort and Gregorovitch was killed by him, as I told you. But there was another wandshop in wizarding Moscow, so you can go there, before meeting Dumbledore. Alright?"

Sirius nodded, and then gazed at him worriedly. "Sure, I'll go see Dumbledore on Monday. But I can hardly show myself in wizarding communities, pup. I could glamour my face, I guess-"

"You don't need to," interjected Orion, smugly smirking at him. "Let me tell you that I planned your resurrection for a very long while, in excruciating detail. I had also checked some laws, to see how freely you could move after being resurrected. And I'm happy to inform you that you could waltz inside the English Ministry of Magic and dance around Scrimgeour himself, and he couldn't do a thing to you. The last time, you were captured for being a Death Eater and Azkaban escapee, and you were sentenced –without a trial, again- to a Dementor's Kiss. And you received it, died, and thus fulfilled your sentence. A wizard cannot be twice convicted for the same crime when he has already fulfilled the sentence for it, father. Therefore, you're a free man, in every way."

Sirius blinked at him, before a wide grin spread over his face. "Excellent, pup!" He ruffled Orion's hair, and repeated cheerfully, "Excellent!"

With that, he turned around and made his way towards Lycaon, with a happy skip in his pace. And Orion was left alone with Patrick, who had been uncharacteristically quiet all that time.

* * *

"Are you going to berate me as well, Connolly?" said Orion dryly, glancing at him while he lifted a hand to card his fingers through his ruffled hair.

Mid-way towards his hair, his wrist was suddenly clutched in a tight grip, and he was pulled flat against Patrick's chest, as the werewolf growled demandingly, "What are ye, Black?"

Orion gazed up into the man's narrowed, amber eyes, and he said nonchalantly, "I don't know what you mean." He unsuccessfully tried to wrench his wrist free, and scowled. "Unhand me, wolfie."

"I won't," snapped Patrick in his low, rough voice, bearing his teeth menacingly. "And don't play the fool with me." His amber eyes narrowed to slits. "I've never seen dark magic like the one ye used. So I ask again, what are ye?"

"What do you think I am?" countered Orion, flashing him with a mocking smile.

"Don't play games!" snarled Patrick irately, tightening his grasp around Orion's wrist.

Whether purposely or not, the grip became painful, and the werewolf was sinking his fingernails into the tender side of his wrist. Orion winced and bit down on his tongue, as he felt a wave of soaring anger rising in him, along with the bristling rush of his dark magic, which he hadn't tranquilly settled inside him.

Without really thinking about it, Orion pulled back his free hand, balling it into a fist, and squarely shot it against Patrick's cheek. He was instantly released as the werewolf staggered backwards, clutching his throbbing cheekbone. But abruptly, before Orion knew what hit him, Patrick had launched himself at him, making them both fly in the air and crash on the ground.

Orion let out a grunt of pain, as his body absorbed the impact, while Patrick swiftly straddled him and trapped him in place. The werewolf lowered his face to be inches away from his, and he growled furiously, "Hit me again and I will tear ye to pieces, lil' boy!"

"Geroff!" spat Orion angrily, buckling under him while he tried to free his pinned wrists.

"Tell me what ye are," growled Patrick brusquely, narrowing his darkened amber eyes at him, "and I will."

Orion eyed him quizzically, with several ideas swirling in his mind. He had already decided what role the young werewolf would play in his plans. Indeed, he knew exactly what Patrick would be for him. And perhaps it was a wise move to prepare the terrain-

Suddenly, his eyes flew open when he felt something hard pressing against his groin, and he gasped out, surprised, "Merlin's beard, my display of dark magic aroused you!" He shook his head, and broke into loud sniggers. "Well, well, Connolly… I suppose it makes sense. You're a dark creature plus a dark wizard, after all. So you'd be affected and incited by my use of dark magic…" He shot him a nasty smirk. "Well, I can't help you with that. Go fetch Moonbeam, wolfie."

"Stuff it, Black," spat Patrick furiously, painfully tightening his grip on Orion's wrists. "Stuff it right up into yer tight, little ars-"

"Watch how you speak to me, Connolly!"

"I'll always speak to ye like this," said Patrick, flashing him with a feral smirk, "no matter how influential or powerful ye become, cubbie. It's the way I am. I won't change. Ye'll just have to accept me as I am."

Orion closely observed him, and finally shot him a dazzling smile. "I think I can do that, wolfie. Because you see, I already accept you – and want you."

Patrick's eyes widened, and he instantly used the opportunity to sharply dig his knee into the werewolf's ribcage. The man briefly doubled over, and Orion quickly escaped from underneath and got hold of his wand, swiftly flicking it. In the bat of an eyelash, their positions had been reversed, and now Patrick was pinned against the floor by the nonverbal spell Orion had casted, and Orion was straddling him with a wide, satisfied smirk plastered on his face.

"Tut, tut, wolfie," said Orion tauntingly, "you're so easily unsettled." He pressed his cheek against Patrick's, to murmur silkily into his ear, "I do want you, but not how you imagine. I don't want you for a shag, Connolly. I want you to be mine, my follower. I want to hear you call me 'My Lord Black'. You have no idea how immensely I would enjoy that."

"Let me go, Black!" spat Patrick furiously, his amber eyes flashing, as he bared his teeth threateningly. He eyed him intently, before he purposely buckled against him. Suddenly, a wide, snide smirk curled his lips, and he sneered, "Well, it looks as if I'm not the only one aroused, cubbie."

Orion's eyes widened when he realized that the man was right. What was more, he had been unwittingly pressing his hip against his. Merlin's staff, what was he doing? He was acting shamelessly and wantonly flirtatiously... If Voldemort saw him, the wizard would irately and sneeringly call him a whore… Orion introspectively frowned. But Voldemort would be ghastly mistaken. What he felt right now wasn't lewd lust, but a sense of dominating control over another. And really, he didn't care if he acted flirtatiously. He was enjoying himself too much, and he wanted to keep doing it for as long as he could. Furthermore, he realized that he was doing the same as what he had once done to Komorov, when he had caressed the man's VA symbol. Yes, it was exactly the same type of behavior, and it was gloriously satisfying and overpowering.

With a wide smirk on his face, Orion leaned down again, and he licked the werewolf's earlobe, as he said in a silky purr, "Yes, you're worthy to be mine, part of my little, exclusive group of close followers. I even know where I would like to mark you. And you're a very ambitious wolfie, aren't you? You first became Greyback's Beta at seventeen, and now you are Remus'. But you shouldn't limit yourself to only be a Beta. You could have other… affiliations. Remus has his own duties and he won't live forever, and I'll need someone to act as my liaison with the werewolf community. I need a werewolf, powerful like you, in my highest ranks."

"What are ye mumbling about?" said Patrick harshly, narrowing his eyes at him. "What highest ranks? Ye don't have any ranks, Black!"

"I do," interjected Orion, widely smirking at him. "I've mentioned them in your presence. My DA and the Elite-"

"Mere students!" snorted Patrick scathingly. "I have no wish to become part of a group of lil' children."

"I'm not offering that," said Orion nonchalantly. "No, I have another place in mind for you." He smugly smiled at him, and whispered, "You see, there's a group of 'adults' - skilled, powerful and in influential positions- who'll be in my control once I become… let's say, more powerful. And one of these 'adults' is part of the Dark Allies. Remus has occasionally taken you to some of their meetings, hasn't he? Well, they're obviously important and powerful. And so is this group of soon-to-be my followers. And I want you to become one of them. Not yet, mind you, but soon – next year, I surmise. What do you say?"

"I say that ye're full of it," snapped Patrick brusquely.

Orion hummed, and said loftily, "How disappointing." Then he deviously smirked at him. "But perhaps you need to be further convinced about just how powerful I am. Yes, I think that would do the trick."

He leaned back, still straddling the werewolf's hips, and raised a hand, spreading his fingers as if he was holding a large, invisible ball with his fingertips. And he briefly closed his eyes and swiftly concentrated his magic. He felt it thrumming through his arm, up along his forearm, and finally bristling and snapping on his fingertips. With a sigh of pleasure, he opened his eyes and glanced at his fingertips, seeing tiny veins of thunderbolt-like energy crackling from them.

Orion smugly smirked down at the werewolf, showing it to him. "Do you know what this is, wolfie? A wandless Cruciatus Curse, its intensity utterly under my control. And very powerful, since it's visible to the naked eye. Funnily enough, I learned how to do this by observing Voldemort. By mere observation, as he used it on me. Just like I'm going to use it now, on you."

"Fuck ye, Black!" snarled Patrick irately, wildly buckling under him, yet unsuccessful in his attempts to break free from the spell which had him pinned to the ground. "Ye're not going to use a Cruciatus Curse on me-"

"Oh, but I am," interjected Orion coolly. "I have to convince you about how powerful I am. So that you'll understand that being my follower will benefit you. You see, power isn't just a matter of potently using one's magic, like I did to kill Nymphadora. It's also a matter of utterly controlling one's magic. And that's what I'm doing at present." He widely smirked at him, while he taunting trailed his other hand along the werewolf's bare chest. "Now, hush, hush, wolfie, because I promise you that you'll like it."

And without giving him time to complain, he brought down his hand and trailed his ignited, crackling fingertips along the man's chest. Instantly, Patrick tightly scrunched his eyes shut, the muscles under Orion's touch rippling jerkily under his fingertips. But soon, a groan escaped from the werewolf's lips, and Orion knew that Patrick wasn't in pain, but enjoying it. He swept his fingertips one more time along the man's chest, and finally lifted his hand and snapped it close, cancelling the Cruciatus Curse.

Patrick gazed up at him with half-lidded amber eyes, and said roughly in a haggard voice, "Fine, Black, ye made yer point."

"Will you accept to become one of my followers?" said Orion calmly.

"Ask me again when ye're ready to me make me one," replied Patrick gruffly, narrowing his eyes at him. "Now get the fuck off me and cancel the bloody spell you have on me!"

"Well, that's good enough," said Orion nonchalantly, as he swiftly stood up. He gazed down at him with amusement, and said tauntingly, "You know, Connolly, you look very good like this – spread on the ground, defenseless, under my absolute control, and with your pretty golden eyes furiously narrowed at me. Yes, you make quite an enticing picture-"

Patrick revealed his teeth menacingly, and snarled, "Ye better release me - now, Black!"

"Oh, don't raise your hackles at me, wolfie," said Orion placidly, shooting him a wide smirk. "I wasn't planning on leaving you in the middle of the forest for the whole night."

He aimed his wand at him, and lazily flicked it, before he offered a hand to pull the werewolf up. Regardless, Patrick instantly surged up to his feet, and in a flash, he had violently crashed Orion against a tree-trunk.

"I'll have to teach ye, Black," growled Patrick angrily, his amber eyes flashing down at him, "that ye mustn't play with wolves. Ye're more powerful than me magically, but in physical strength I'll always overpower ye." He inched his face to his, and sneered, "Ye have vampire blood in ye, but ye're not a vampire's full-mate. The vampire boy didn't fuck ye when he gave ye his blood, cubbie. Thus, he only gave ye a slight measure of his natural physical superiority-"

"How do you know about that?" demanded Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "I never said to the Dark Allies that my bond with Lezander was partial since we didn't shag when he gave me his blood."

"We, werewolves, know quite a bit about vampires," said Patrick brusquely, baring his teeth in a feral smirk. "Centuries ago, our kinds fought for territorial dominance. Obviously, given the life we've had and given that they managed to be better concealed and organized than we are, we lost back then. Ever since, we've disliked each other on principle. And I know a lot about vampires thanks to Fenrir. He's been like a father to me, and his own great-great-grand father was the Alpha back when vampires and werewolves fought each other. So Fenrir passed down that knowledge to me."

"I see," murmured Orion pensively.

Patrick roughly clutched his face, and said jeeringly, "Tell me somethin', cubbie, did ye suffer much when ye thought yer vampire boy had died? Is it true that vampires' lifemates greatly suffer under drastic separation-?"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" snapped Orion crisply, scowling at him. "I'm not Lezander's mate; he only gave me his blood. Furthermore, vampires don't have 'lifemates'. They can choose to be with whomever they want. It's a willing choice, not something instinctual like in a werewolf's case-"

"Is that what the vampire told ye?" scoffed Patrick snidely, before he shot him a nasty smirk. "My, my, cubbie, I think someone has been lied to. And ye must be incredibly stupid to have bought it. Didn't you tell me yourself that a creature cannot fight against his nature? We, werewolves, have our inner wolf, and he chooses our mate. And what do ye think is what chooses a vampire's lifemate? Easy, cubbie, the same thing which defines their nature – blood. The vampire boy chose to share his blood with ye, and he certainly expected to fuck ye, thus fully bond with ye, because yer blood called to him. To him, it must be exquisitely enticing, like none other's - yer scent unique, yer taste delicious." His smirk spread widely, viciously. "And guess what, cubbie? They only have one lifemate. Oh, certainly, they can fuck and be with others, and they won't die if their lifemate does, even though they'll certainly suffer. But unlike werewolves, if they lose their one and only mate, they won't have another. They are inferior to us, in that way – and in many others, of course."

Orion gazed at him with stunned, wide eyes, completely frozen in place. Finally, he shook his head, as he muttered, "That – that cannot be right. It simply – can't… or the Zravens would have-"

"Aw, is poor lil' cubbie confused?" jeered Patrick, revealing his teeth in a wide, feral smirk. "Well, Black, I have no reason to lie to ye. What I told ye is the truth." He snorted, and added scathingly, "And yer lil' vampire boy probably didn't tell ye because he didn't want to pressure ye or scare ye off. What a fool – mates have to be claimed as soon as found, by force if needed. Well, vampires be vampires." He cocked his head to a side, and sneered roughly, "Ye're awfully quiet, cubbie. Aye, no witty retorts this time?"

"Fuck off," spat Orion briskly, aggressively shoving him away.

The werewolf, caught unawares, stumbled one step back, while Orion immediately put more distance between them and plucked out the chain-necklace from underneath his shirt.

"What are ye doing?" demanded Patrick gruffly, narrowing his eyes at him.

"What does it bloody look like?" snapped Orion crisply. "I'm portkeying away - to my home."

"M'Alpha-"

"Remus can take care of himself, and he's accompanied," said Orion shortly. "My father is staying to lend support, and you'll also be here to help him get over his 'mourning period'."

Patrick narrowed his eyes at him, and said harshly, "What about Fenrir?"

"I'll bring him whenever the fuck I can," spat Orion, before he tightly grasped the pendant, and snapped, "Padfoot!"

And he was instantly pulled into a tightening mesh of colors and space, the last thing he saw being Patrick's features losing their hard expression, the amber eyes holding a veiled hint of desire and some small measure of fondness.

* * *

The next few days passed quickly but also tensely for Orion. During his weekend at Durmstrang, when he wasn't with his Elite training the DA, he was with Calypso studying for their finals -which would take place the next weekend- or plotting with her. He had told her about his idea of making Patrick Connolly one of the Aux Atrum, and she had excitedly agreed with him, saying that he needed someone 'his' in that group. Furthermore, she had voluntarily taken upon herself the task of finding out how he could brand followers with the VA mark, so that he could use it to summon them – pretty much like Voldemort's Dark Mark worked.

Orion didn't know the spell that the Spirits used to mark the Aux Atrum, and he obviously didn't want to ask them. Thus, he would need to discover how it was done. And he had also decided how to modify the VA symbol slightly, to make it his personal one. Nevertheless, that would take Calypso and him a couple of weeks, so in the meanwhile, Orion studied - without allowing himself to think about other matters, such as the whole 'vampire lifemate' issue. He still didn't know what to think or feel about that, and he had strategically postponed it for when he met Lezander again.

The tense days came when he got back to Hogwarts. It had been three days already, and Orion had barely caught sight of Draco, and he was starting to feel very worried. Granted, given that it was the last week of school, everyone was studying for their finals –which would take place on Friday- or studying for OWLs in Luna's case. But he rarely saw Draco at the library. Indeed, the boy didn't even answer the two-way mirror. Therefore, Orion could only deduce that his friend was working on the vanishing cabinet. Nonetheless, it worried him because Draco had only three days left before school let out – and that was the deadline Voldemort had given him.

Also, he had received a highly spelled and blood-warded letter on Tuesday, from his father, telling him that he had already contacted Dumbledore. But that was as much as the missive said. Sirius had simply told him that he had been accepted into the Order but that he couldn't go to Potter or Black Manor without raising suspicions. Thus, that he wouldn't see Orion for a while, but that he would communicate again as soon as he was able to do so. Orion had been relieved, and he had also inwardly thanked Grindelwald. It was obvious to him that his father had become more slyly cautious thanks to the German wizard's teachings.

At present it was Wednesday late evening, the last one of the school year, and Orion was ensconced in Hogwarts' library, like most students. Hermione was sitting across from him, nervously chewing on a lock of her own bushy hair, while she flipped a page of an old Transfiguration tome. Again, there was no sight of Draco, and Luna was studying for her OWLs in the private library of her House, in Ravenclaw Tower.

Meanwhile, he was revising for Arithmancy, absentmindedly. The truth was that he felt prepared to take his finals anytime. He was a superb student who studied hard constantly, always making some time for it. Moreover, he was already planning on asking Vagnarov if he could take his PRIMEs before seventh year started. Grindelwald had been right, he couldn't waste his next year by going to school. There were simply too many Vindico-and-war-related things he had to do. Particularly, he needed to start attending Dark Allies meetings again, since he hadn't been able to do that whilst attending Hogwarts. In the end, he had decided to bring up the PRIMEs-issue to Vagnarov next weekend, since he hadn't seen his Headmaster for almost two months, ever since he had demanded to know about the wizard's involvement with Regulus Black. He no longer had Necromancy classes with the wizard, since Loki was gone, the wizard's health was declining and since the old man had told him that it was pointless, now that he was planning on becoming a full-fledged Necromancer by undergoing the Guild's training – Orion hadn't mentioned The Argonaut to anyone.

Abruptly, he was shaken from his musings by the appearance at his side of Jimmy Peakes, a Hufflepuff, who was holding out a scroll of parchment.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," said the boy with a friendly smile. "Dumbledore asked me to give you this."

"Thanks, Peakes," said Orion warmly, grasping the scroll and quickly flicking his wand to make all his textbooks and notes fly into his school bag, while his features were outwardly nonchalant, not revealing the frisson of alarm he felt.

"From Dumbledore?" interjected Hermione eagerly, her curiosity evident, as her head poked out from above the thick tome she had been reading. "What does it say?"

"Nothing important, I'm sure. I'll read it later," replied Orion dismissively, while he quickly swung the strap of his schoolbag over one shoulder. "It's almost curfew time. I'll see you in the common room."

And before she had a chance to nag him, he waved a hand and hastily left the library. As he made his way towards Gryffindor Tower, he unrolled the parchment and scanned it, his face slightly revealing his worry. Dumbledore wanted him to go to his office. It was clear what it was about; they would be leaving in search of a horcrux. This was a problem. He would have to protect the horcrux from Dumbledore, probably duel with the old man to steal it, and it was simply not the right time for it. He couldn't kill the old wizard yet, Draco had to try it first. The Unbreakable Vow Orion had taken wouldn't allow anything else.

This was, indeed, a problem.

At last, he snapped the password to the Fat Lady, hurried through the portrait hole and swiftly crossed the common room. No one even noticed him; they were all too concentrated, worried or frantic in their own studies. Orion quickly reached his dormitory and threw his schoolbag into his trunk, before he made sure that he had everything he needed with him, including his two wands secured into the wand-holsters that Calypso had given him for Christmas, a long while ago.

Then, he hurried out of the common room and along the seventh floor as fast as he could, passing nobody but Peeves, who swooped past in the opposite direction, throwing bits of chalk at Orion in a routine sort of way and cackling loudly as he dodged Orion's hex. Once Peeves had vanished, there was silence in the corridors; with only fifteen minutes left until curfew, most people had already returned to their common rooms.

Abruptly, he heard a scream and a crash, and he stopped in his tracks, listening.

"How dare you - aaaaargh!"

The noise was coming from a corridor nearby, and he knew exactly what was there. Orion sprinted towards it, his wand at the ready, hurtled round another corner and saw Professor Trelawney sprawled upon the floor, her head covered in one of her many shawls, several sherry bottles lying beside her, one broken.

He blinked at the unexpected scene, and had to swallow a snigger as he calmly helped the witch to her feet.

"Are you well, Professor? What happened?" said Orion in polite concern, as she rose up with his help, some of her glittering beads becoming entangled with her glasses, while she hiccoughed loudly and patted her hair.

"You may well ask!" she said shrilly, as she protectively picked up her sherry bottles. "I was strolling along, brooding upon certain Dark portents I happen to have glimpsed..."

Orion merely nodded absentmindedly. As he had expected, on their right was the tapestry of dancing trolls and, on the left, that smoothly impenetrable stretch of stone wall that concealed the Room of Requirement. And the witch had screamed. Therefore, it was obvious that she had been trying to get rid of her sherry bottles by leaving them in the Room, and that something had prevented her from entering… Most likely, someone – Draco. But he needed to make sure, and most importantly, he would need to pay Draco a visit to know how far ahead he was with his task of fixing the vanishing cabinet.

"Professor," said Orion quietly, eyeing her intently, "were you trying to get into the Room of Requirement?"

"...omens I have been vouchsafed - what?" She blinked at him, suddenly looking shifty.

"The Room of Requirement," repeated Orion impatiently. "Were you trying to get in there?"

"I - well - I didn't know students knew about –"

He instantly flicked his wand, casting anti-spying and silencing spells around them, and demanded sharply, "What happened? You screamed-"

"I - well," said Professor Trelawney, drawing her shawls around her defensively and staring at him with her vastly magnified eyes. "I wished to - ah - deposit certain – um – personal items in the Room..." And she muttered something about 'nasty accusations'.

But Orion didn't hear a word, because the instant she had draped her shawls, her long, messy hair had shifted to a side, and he had caught a glimpse of something, for the first time.

His eyes impossibly widened, shocked, and he gasped out disbelievingly, "YOU?!"


	20. The Seer, the cave & the Tower

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

"Me?" said Trelawney, owlishly blinking at him through her huge spectacles. "Me, what?"

In the bat of an eyelash, Orion slammed her against the wall, wand pointing at her face, and he hissed out, "Drop the act. I saw the mark on your nape – you're an Aux Atrum! The one the Spirits mentioned, the one at Hogwarts!" He narrowed his eyes at her, and demanded sharply, "Are you Sybil Trelawney, or someone under a glamour or Polyjuice Potion?"

The witch drew herself up, utterly ignoring the wand pointed menacingly at her face, and straightened the shawls around her shoulders and neck. Meanwhile, Orion intently gazed at her in silence, noticing the abrupt differences. Her eyes were still magnified by her huge eyeglasses, but there wasn't dumb stupidity in them, as usual. Instead, there was sharpness, and a scrutinizing, sly glint. Her attitude had also changed. Once, she had been a witch who always seemed lost, confused, insecure, and out-of-reality. Now, before him stood a woman still plain-looking but with a new pose of self-confidence and sternness.

"I am Sybil Trelawney," she said curtly, piercing him with her spectacled eyes, "and as you said, I'm an Aux. It's clear to me, now, that the rumors are true - you can see our mark. Good. I was wondering when you would discover me." She waved a hand dismissively, and added calmly, "I'll no longer need to conceal my mission from you."

"Which is?" snapped Orion, narrowing his eyes at her.

Trelawney arched an eyebrow, and replied impassively, "To watch over, and protect, certain students, of course. To make sure we don't lose the scions of valuable pureblooded dark bloodlines – students from Slytherin and some from Ravenclaw, and-"

"Students like Draco Malfoy," interrupted Orion accusingly, pinning her with his gaze while he poked his wand's tip into her neck. "You were trying to see what he was up to, weren't you? That's why you attempted to get in the Room of Requirements. Not to hide your sherry bottles, but to spy for the Spirits. You, with your sherry bottles and clueless attitude, have been putting up an act, all this time!"

"Of course I have," said Trelawney coolly. "Aux Atrum in delicate positions, like myself, must perform roles which will avert attention and suspicions from us. Dumbledore wouldn't have hired me if I hadn't appeared to be a dim-witted and harmless witch, since I am, indeed, a descendant of Cassandra. He knew that. Though, thankfully, he has never truly believed in Divination nor suspected the extent of a Seer's powers." She leveled him with a sharp gaze, and demanded, "Do you know who Cassandra was?"

"Yes," replied Orion impatiently, "she was the daughter of King Priam of Troy. A dark witch who prophetized, in detail, the destruction of her country, but no one believed her and she could do nothing to forestall the tragedies that befell upon them. And you've said, even in class, that you're her descendant. But I don't see how this is relevant-"

"It's relevant because she was also a claire-voyant," interjected Trelawney sharply, "like myself."

"A clairvoyant?" snapped Orion, eyeing her closely. "That's a muggle term-"

"A claire-voyant, not clairvoyant," said the witch pointedly, before she scoffed. "It's a wizarding term, which muggles misspelled and mispronounced. Ages ago, some muggle must have heard one of us using it, and then applied it to allude to those of their kind who are more perceptive than others. But no muggle is really a claire-voyant, since muggles See nothing, do they? They don't have magic. Now, let me enlighten you; 'claire-voyant' is French for-"

"Clear sighted," interrupted Orion briskly, his impatience and angered irritation growing, both induced as well by her condescending tone.

"Precisely," said Trelawney, her lips stretching into a thin smile. "It's the name given to Seers with certain… abilities. It comes from Claire Voyant, the first witch in whom this ability was manifested. And her mother must have had an inkling regarding her powers, given the way she chose to name her daughter." Her smile spread into a sharp curve. "You see, we're all women. You won't find a single wizard who's a Seer. The Seer trait passes from mother to daughter or granddaughter – it can skip generations but it will always be carried in the females of a bloodline. That's why you might notice that in Seer lines we carry the surname of our mother; our father's surnames are irrelevant since their abilities are nothing when compared to the skills we inherit from our female ancestors."

"Fascinating," said Orion with veiled sarcasm - though it was interesting, since he hadn't known, but his impatience was pressing- and he continued in a biting tone of voice, "Alright, so you're a claire-voyant Seer. What does that mean? What abilities do you posses that are different from those of normal Seers?"

"Abilities which make me invaluable to the Spirits," replied Trelawney curtly. "There are many different types of Seers, and our distinct skills mostly depend on the kind of magic we carry –either dark or light. In my case, I come from a dark bloodline with the claire-voyant trait, which means that I clearly See and comprehend any vision I have." She stared at him, and added pointedly, "As well as any prophecy I make. Unlike non-claire-voyant Seers, I have the capacity to sense when I have uttered a prophecy, and later, I can extract that memory from my mind and use a special kind of pensieve to discover what I have prophetized." She thinly smiled at him again. "Indeed, I've seen you, in my visions, many times, young man - years before you were born. That's why the Spirits wanted me, and why I accepted to become an Aux – because I knew you were coming."

Orion had instantly stiffened, and piercing her with a hard gaze, he demanded briskly, "So you know about the prophecy you made? The one you made before Dumbledore?"

Trelawney let out a sharp chuckle, before she replied airily, "Of course I do. Oh, I played the part of a clueless witch, unsuspecting of her own Seer abilities, but I immediately sensed that I had prophetized something, and I could tell by Dumbledore's reaction." She mockingly smiled at him. "The old man hired me because of it. I couldn't have planned it better myself-"

"So it's real?" interrupted Orion, narrowing his eyes while he scrutinized every twitch of her features. "The prophecy is real, and it's about me?"

"Yes, it is, on both accounts."

"What about the interpretation?" demanded Orion sharply, intently eyeing her. "Dumbledore believes it means that Voldemort and I will end up killing one or the other. And… someone has told me the Spirits' interpretation-"

"Lord Grindelwald told you," interjected Trelawney curtly. "I know he's alive and with you, young man – all Aux do. There's no need to beat around the bush with me. And yes, I'm perfectly aware of how the prophecy I made has been interpreted by all parties."

"So who's right?" asked Orion crisply, piercing her with his eyes. "Is it as simple as Dumbledore believes or does it truly regard a Vindico candidate who'll have to kill all Dark Lords alive in his time, in order to garner the magical power necessary to survive the ultimate test and succeed in becoming the VA? Who's right, Dumbledore or the Spirits?"

"Both and neither, because there isn't a correct interpretation," said Trelawney loftily, before she shot him a stern gaze. "Many prophecies have passed unfulfilled, young man. A prophecy, in itself, lacks power. What matters is if it's heard, by whom, and how it was interpreted and acted upon. When I saw the memory of myself uttering the Prophecy, I knew it was about you –a future Vindico candidate of Black ancestry- since I had seen your face in my visions already. There is no doubt in my mind that it regards you and your aim and ability to become the Vindico Atrum. Nevertheless, the Prophecy would have been meaningless and irrelevant if no one had heard it." She intently stared at him, and whispered sharply, "In that case, your life wouldn't have been affected by it; not at all or until decades later, at least. You wouldn't be in your path to become the Vindico if Dumbledore hadn't heard it, if Snape hadn't eavesdropped, and later, if I hadn't told the Spirits-"

"You're not giving me a concrete answer," interrupted Orion with annoyed hastiness. "I want to know if-"

"You want to know if you can stop it from being fulfilled," said Trelawney sharply, leveling him with a piercing gaze. "No, you can't - because you and others believed in it. You gave it power. You and others acted on it, and thus, it got started. Even by knowing about it, you triggered it. Yours and others' decisions have been influenced by it, making it true. It will be fulfilled because all of you made it start, triggering a series of events that will conclude in how the Prophecy predicts. You will kill the Dark Lords or they will kill you." Her lips curled upwards. "Lord Grindelwald already feels the desire to kill you, doesn't he? Indeed, in the end, only one of you three will survive and succeed. There's no way to stop it now, young man. It commenced years ago, and it has progressed too far ahead, already."

A stretch of silence spread between them, and finally Orion curtly nodded, before he narrowed his eyes at her, wand still aimed at her face. "Fine, now tell me something else. I know that all Aux Atrum are very skilled in mind-magic. So, have you been influencing Draco? Is that also part of your 'mission'?"

"I've been watching over the Malfoy Heir," replied Trelawney curtly, squaring her shawl-covered shoulders. "Given his bloodlines, he's important for the Spirits and the Aux. Furthermore, I've been watching over every important student in this school. Yes, I've influenced some minds, following the Spirits' orders, so that some students developed certain attachments towards specified others. I'm merely the Spirits' tool; used so that certain bloodlines cross with others, to yield purer and magical powerful children in the future. Though, in this regard, I didn't need to influence the Malfoy Heir's mind." She gazed at him, and added pointedly, "I'm aware that the Spirits have told you this already. The young Malfoy already has romantic feelings for you. I didn't need to do anything."

"Yeah, I know about that," said Orion crisply, his eyes narrowing to slits as he pressed his wand's tip against her jaw. "But I want to know if he… well, he entered a room when I had told him not to. I had also casted powerful locking spells on the room's door, and he cancelled them and entered, nonetheless. He said he was curious about what I was doing, but the consequences of it… it's very suspicious-"

"Because you bonded with him, forming an attachment you won't be able to sever. Just what the Spirits hoped, since they want you two to be together and produce a powerful offspring," interjected Trelawney, thinly smiling at him. "Oh, yes, I know exactly what you're referring to. I knew you took him to the Chamber of Secrets and I knew that you were going to try to unblock the Resurrection Stone Hallow – the Spirits told me to be on the look-out for when it happened. And I knew that you were going to put it on, and be affected by it. I saw it, in a vision, and revealed it to the Spirits. Of course, I was ordered to make it happen." Her smile stretched, though it wasn't warm, but sharp and satisfied. "So, yes, I used mind-magic to see through the Malfoy Heir's mind and I made his curiosity and determination increase. He entered that room, and you ended up consuming a bit of his soul's essence, because I caused it by slightly tampering with his mind." She gazed at him expectantly, and said coolly, "Are you going to hate me for it? Or the Spirits? Just for doing what was required-"

"No, I won't hate you," bit out Orion, lowering his wand. "You're just their tool." He chuckled mirthlessly, and continued in a low, harsh voice, "And I already hate the Spirits too much. Oh, I'm seething with anger, but it doesn't add much more to the contempt and hatred I already feel for them. Furthermore, what you disclosed doesn't surprise me at all. I suspected their involvement for a while."

"Good-"

"Nevertheless," interjected Orion in a deadly cold tone of voice, while pocketing his wand, "mess with Draco again, and I'll make you regret it. I won't care if you're following the Spirits' orders or not." He pierced her with his eyes, and demanded sharply, "You said you had visions about me, even before I was born. What have you Seen?"

Trelawney gazed at him in silence. Then, a thin smile stretched on her lips, and she lowered her face, never breaking eye-contact, and whispered, "The question is: what have _you_ Seen?" Her voice lowered even further, and her magnified eyes glinted as she continued, "Do you hear them, in your dreams, calling you 'Vindico'? Do you see yourself leading armies, razing and destroying every enemy in your path? Does the clash of swords and bellows of curses resound in your mind, along with the echo of their fervent, zealous battle-cry? Vindico – Vindico – Vindico! Do you hear it, in your sleep?"

"How do you know about that?" bit out Orion stiffly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Did the Spirits tell you about my 'visions'?"

"They did," replied Trelawney, her smile spreading, "though it wasn't necessary for them to tell me. I've Seen what you have – and much more."

"What else have you Seen?" demanded Orion sharply.

"That, I cannot tell you," said the witch curtly. "Seers carry a great burden and responsibility, for we know that if we disclose what our visions foretell, we might cause great havoc and destruction. No, young man, some things I cannot tell you."

"Fine," grunted Orion, narrowing his eyes at her. "Can you tell me, at least, why I have my visions? If they are real, and who is causing them?"

"They are real, and you have visions because you're meant to," said Trelawney simply. "Oh, you are no Seer, but you catch glimpses of the future – the most probable one. But always remember that the future is never fixed; it's an ever-changing flow of events, and the slightest disruption can modify everything, rushing forth like a tidal wave. And you should realize that by having these visions of yours, you're -in a way- making them happen. As for 'who' is causing them…" She thinly smiled at him. "That's something you will need to discover for yourself. If I told you, you would know too soon, and it would be catastrophic. You're not prepared to know - not yet."

Orion had half a mind to curse her; his fingers were actually twitching right in front the pocket in which he had stowed his wand. Nevertheless, he dropped his hand and didn't do anything, besides staring at her in silence. She wouldn't give him more answers and he realized that he couldn't gain them by force either. Moreover, as a Seer, perhaps she had the right to keep her information – besides all that stuff about the chaotic consequences of revealing what she had seen in her visions. Also, she was an Aux who he could later use. If he employed force against her, he would only alienate a future valuable supporter.

At last, he curtly nodded at her, and said icily, "Alright. Now leave, there's something I have to do and I don't wish to have an audience."

"Very well," said Trelawney calmly, "but first, I would like to know if you're giving me any orders."

"Orders?" asked Orion, frowning at her, before he speculatively arched an eyebrow. "Are you telling me that you would obey any order I gave you? Why? The Aux Atrum would only obey the Vindico, and I'm not-"

"You're not It," interrupted the witch impassively. "Quite right, young man, you're not – yet. But I've Seen…" She waved a hand in a vague manner. "I've Seen many things. Thus, I would obey you, even considering that your commands supersede those of the Spirits', because I know that you're what the Dark has been waiting for. So, I ask again, would you like to give me a command?"

"Depends," said Orion musingly. "What are your first-priority orders, at present?"

"To insure the safety of certain students," replied Trelawney gravely. "I am to stay at Hogwarts, no matter the circumstances, in order to make sure that none of the relevant scions comes to harm."

"I see," said Orion with a sharp nod. "That's fine. Keep doing that." He shot her a piercing glance, and continued quietly, "Though, if I asked and needed it, I will expect to receive your help."

"Certainly. You'll have it," said the Seer, thinly smiling at him. Then, she pointedly glanced at the stretch of plain wall, and added curtly, "I know what the Malfoy Heir is doing in there. Indeed, I was trying to get inside in order to warn him about an omen supposedly revealed to me in my Tarot cards – of course, I would have acted like the batty Divination Professor." Her gaze flickered back to him, and she pierced him with her magnified eyes. "But I truly had a vision about tonight. I cannot tell you much, or more disaster would loom for you and the consequences would be more unpredictable, but I can tell you that you must protect the Malfoy Heir – he'll be at risk. Also, beware at the Tower."

Orion stared at her, puzzled. "What tower? Gryffindor or Ravenclaw Tower? Or the Astronomy Tower-?"

"Just remember – beware and watch your back," said Trelawney sternly, before her eyes adopted an owlish and dumb glint.

Then, she swiftly turned around and made her way along the corridor, stumbling and hiccupping as if drunk, carrying her sherry bottles, and with her long shawls trailing on the floor. At last, Orion was left alone, gazing at her retreating back with a frown on his forehead.

Yes, her acting skills were superb, just like Slughorn's had been. Apparently, just like it was required from most Aux Atrum. And several things had become clearer to him, after their conversation. Yet, her answers concerning the prophecy and his 'visions' hadn't been as rotund and straight-forward as he would have liked. Moreover, he had fleetingly considered the possibility that Trelawney had lied to him; that the prophecy had been made up by the Spirits, in order to push, whichever VA candidate popped up, into killing any Dark Lords alive. But he trusted Grindelwald over everyone else, knowing that the man would have instantly told him if it wasn't real. And the wizard believed in the validity and interpretation of the prophecy. Therefore, all in all, the only things he could conclude were: that the prophecy was real, that what it predicted would come to happen since many people had heard it and acted on it, and that prophecies on the whole were a very messy and convoluted matter. Frankly, he wished no one had ever heard it.

Nevertheless, prophecy or not, none of it changed his plans and it was pointless to keep wondering about the darned prediction. Therefore, Orion shook his head and hastily paced three times up and down along the stretch of wall, while he whispered quickly, "I need the place where everything is hidden… I need the place where everything is hidden… I need the place where everything is hidden..."

Finally, before his eyes, a great door materialized, and he yanked it open. The instant he set foot inside, he heard a booming and echoing voice, yelling in triumphant rejoice. And Orion ran through the maze of teetering piles of junk, knowing, given the sound of Draco's voice, that everything was about to turn even more complicated.

He turned left, and the alleyway he had taken finally led him to stand a few feet away from the vanishing cabinet, no longer looking broken. And his gaze instantly zeroed in on a gleefully whooping Draco. He observed him in silence, noticing the new sparkle in the young wizard's silvery eyes and the pale cheeks flushed with excitement.

Orion took a step forward, making his presence known, and the other boy suddenly swirled around, a beaming smile spreading on his face.

"You're here!" said Draco ecstatically, swooping him into a tight hug, before he spun Orion around in his arms, chuckling merrily. "I did it – I finally fixed the bloody thing! Now my family will be safe and the Dark Lord-"

"That's great," breathed out Orion, tightly clutching the boy's arms and allowing himself to be swirled around, while his lips stretched into his best grin, though he hardly felt cheerful at all.

Why did it have to be that night? Just the same night in which he would surely go out horcrux-hunting with Dumbledore… As if Trelawney's vague warning hadn't been enough, he certainly knew now that that night would be crucial but also dangerously complex.

"Yeah, it is!" said Draco with a wide smirk, his silvery eyes flashing eagerly while he settled Orion back on the floor. "And I've never felt so good in my life! I feel as if I could do anything imaginable, and succeed – as if a vast sea of infinite opportunities has opened up for me!" His smirk became a beaming smile, and he slowly trailed his fingertips along Orion's cheek, as he whispered excitedly, "I feel, for instance, that if I were to kiss you right now, you would kiss me back just as ardently. And that you would finally agree to be together, to be mine. I feel it, I know it!"

Draco inched his face closer, but Orion instantly pushed him away, though he did it gently.

"Now's not the time for it," he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of sternness. Then, he narrowed his eyes, and asked suspiciously, "You drank all the Felix Felicis potion I gave you?"

"Yup," said Draco elated, his lips spreading into a wide smirk. "I took it in the morning and I've been working on the cabinet almost all day. And it was amazing! I simply knew, almost instinctively, where everything went and just what spells to use-"

"If you took it in the morning," interrupted Orion musingly, "then the effects will soon vanish." He pierced him with his eyes, and added gravely, "You cannot be overconfident, Draco. Your 'luck' will soon run out."

"So what?" said Draco utterly unconcerned. He shook his head and grasped Orion's arm, as he said excitedly, "Don't you understand? I accomplished part of my task. Now I only have to get in the Forbidden Forest, beyond the school wards, to apparate before the Dark Lord and tell him that he can send the Death Eaters through Borgin's cabinet. Then, they'll come out here in an hour, at most, and we'll blast open Dumbledore's office and I'll finally kill him!" He shook Orion's arm, and continued eagerly, "I'll be hailed as a hero and my mother and father will be safe. I'll see my father again, Orion! He and the others were broken out from Azkaban two days ago. My mother wrote to me with the news, but the Dark Lord won't let me see him until I've succeeded in my mission-"

"Lucius is out?" gasped out Orion, staring at him with wide eyes. "But nothing was said in the newspapers-"

"Of course it wasn't!" interjected Draco with a chuckle. "Scrimgeour took a leaf from Fudge's book, and he's covering it up! It's the Minister's way of making sure that the Light's morale doesn't drop." He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Scrimgeour is doing everything he can so no one discovers that Azkaban has been breached, yet again." He shot him a wide, devious smirk. "But it will do him no good. After I kill Dumbledore, we –Death Eaters- will be on the move, attacking and seizing control of the Ministry, Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, and St. Mungo's. Just for starters, because later we'll take-"

"Hang on," interrupted Orion, intently piercing him with his eyes. "So all of that is what Voldemort has been planning?" Draco nodded, looking supremely satisfied and smug, and he continued in a troubled voice, "Alright, I understand. It was to be expected. But tell me something, which is the first target?"

"Hogwarts, of course!" replied Draco cheerfully, gesturing at the vanishing cabinet. "The idea is that a group of Death Eaters will come through the cabinet, that I'll kill Dumbledore and that they'll seize Hogwarts, making it the Dark Lord's domain, at last. Once we have Hogwarts, then we'll attack the Ministry, and-"

"And the plan is to take hold of Hogwarts tonight?" said Orion, feeling a frisson of worried alarm.

"Yes!" said Draco exultantly, widely smirking at him.

Orion shook his head, and said pressingly, "Can't you postpone it for tomorrow? Don't go to Voldemort tonight. Don't tell him you're done with the cabinet-"

"Are you mad?!" spat Draco, staring at him, appalled and incredulously. "Of course I'm going to tell him straight away – my father is in his clutches! Merlin knows what his state is and how he's faring. You cannot ask that of me. The Dark Lord might be torturing him as we speak, since I took so long in fixing the cabinet. And school will be over in two days – and that was my deadline! No, I won't do it. I won't waste another breath and I'll go right to the Dark Lord-"

"I understand your point," interrupted Orion with a heavy sigh. He fiercely rubbed his forehead, and snapped stressfully, "But damn it, Draco, this will complicate matters further!" He tightly clutched the boy's shoulders and sunk his gaze into his. "It will not go as smoothly as you think. Dumbledore has asked me to go to his office, and I'm certain that we'll be away from the school for some hours – No, don't ask me why or what we'll be doing. Just know that Dumbledore and I won't be here." He released the young wizard's shoulders and clenched his jaw. "But I understand your concern for Lucius. Fine, we'll do it tonight. And I'll let you know when we come back to Hogwarts. I think the best is for you to wait with the Death Eaters, hiding someplace inside Hogwarts from where you could see us arrive." He pierced him with his eyes, and demanded, "Does Severus know about the Death Eater breach into the school?"

"No," replied Draco promptly. "The Dark Lord hasn't told him and he's not part of the mission's group." He crossed his arms over his chest, and drawled coolly, "And I won't tell him either. The Dark Lord ordered me not to tell him a word about it. I think he suspects Severus' loyalty."

Orion massaged his temples, and muttered, "Yeah, he has plenty of reasons to do so. I'll need to remedy that situation."

"What are you talking about?" asked Draco, eyeing him quizzically. "I don't see why the Dark Lord should suspect Severus. He's never acted as anything but a staunch supporter and a committed Death Eater. He's been spying on Dumbledore all this time, you told me that."

"Perhaps someday I'll explain it to you," said Orion, waving his hand dismissively. Then he tightly grabbed the boy's forearm, and added sternly, "Listen to me, you mentioned once that you had someone under the Imperius Curse - the one who gave Katie Bell the opal necklace. Who is it? I need to know, perhaps I can use him."

Draco smugly smirked at him. "It's a 'her'. It's Rosmerta, of the Three Broomsticks pub."

"Madam Rosmerta?" said Orion, his lips curving into a grin. "My, my, Drakey-poo, you are indeed a sly one. She's a very good choice. Perfect! Alright, so this is what we'll do. Make her spy my comings and goings with Dumbledore. Then, she'll be able to alert you once we get back-"

"That's what I planned on doing the second you told me that the old coot and you were leaving the school," scoffed Draco, with a roll of his eyes. "I can be just as smart and cunning as you."

"Yeah, you can," said Orion, shooting him a warm and proud smile. "Good, then everything is settled. Use her to know when we arrive; in the meanwhile, stay hidden with the Death Eaters. And have the two-way mirror with you at all times. I might use it to communicate with you. Furthermore, I'll alert Severus once I'm back-"

Draco scowled at him, while he swiftly interrupted, "I don't think you should-"

"He needs to know," snapped Orion hastily, piercing him with his eyes. "I thought you were starting to trust your godfather more, Draco. He has been trying to help you all this time, as I have repeatedly told you. Anyway, I need him to be aware of what will happen, so I'll let him know." He paused, and then frowned at him. "What about Rodolphus? What are his orders?"

"I'm not sure," replied Draco pensively. "Maybe the Dark Lord will ask him to keep his façade as Horace Slughorn, or maybe he'll reveal himself and participate in the mission." He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "It doesn't matter either way; we won't need him for this. It has been planned exhaustively. Of course that there'll be unforeseeable bumps in the way, but we're ready to take hold of the school once I kill the old goat."

"Right, I would love to hear all the details about your plan," interjected Orion quickly, "but I must get going or Dumbledore will wonder what's taking me so long." He grabbed the young wizard's shoulders once again, and added urgently, "Listen, Draco, whatever happens, I must be there with you when you get the chance to kill the old codger. Remember the Unbreakable Vow I took. Moreover, if things go wrong, then trust and depend on Severus. He'll help you if I can't."

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, and bit out angrily, "I won't need help-"

"Promise that you'll rely on him!" snapped Orion pressingly, inwardly concerned about the vague warning that Trelawney had given him. "A thousand things can go wrong, and quite frankly, I have the feeling that they will. I know that you can take care of yourself, but you'll assuage my worry if I know that you'll accept Severus' help and heed his orders, if things go wrong. And I might be… involved in other matters. So I want to know that you'll obey Severus if the whole thing takes an ugly turn."

"Fine," gritted out Draco, scowling at him with crossed arms. "I will."

"Excellent," said Orion, shooting him a smile. He briefly squeezed the boy's forearm, before releasing him. "I have to leave now. Take care, be on your guard, remember that the Felix Felicis' effects will fade away soon, and have the two-way mirror with you at all times. I'll see you soon!"

And with that, he spun around, his gaze briefly flickering towards a chipped bust of an ugly old warlock wearing a dusty wig, seeing on it a tarnished tiara, right where he had left it. Relieved that the horcrux hadn't been moved or discovered, as expected given its inconspicuousness, he swiftly ran out from the Room of Hidden Things. With his heart pumping fast in his chest, he made a mad rush along the corridors, feeling anxiety creeping on him. He could only hope that the horcrux they were going to find would be a used and empty one, with no piece of soul left to destroy, since he couldn't confront Dumbledore too soon. Everything had to occur in precise timing, or all his plans would fall apart.

* * *

At last, he dashed around the corner into Dumbledore's corridor, where the lone gargoyle stood sentry. Orion hastily snapped the password at the gargoyle and ran up the moving spiral staircase three steps at a time. He hastily knocked on the door, knowing that time was of the essence – the sooner they got back, the better. The second a calm voice answered 'Enter', he flung himself into the room, his expression one of excitement.

"I just got your letter from Jimmy Peakes," rushed out Orion, briefly glancing at his surroundings. "This is it, isn't it, sir? You finally discovered the location of a horcrux?"

Fawkes was perched on his stand, sleepily gazing at him with his bright black eyes, which gleamed with the reflected gold from the sunset beyond the window. Dumbledore was standing at the window looking out at the grounds, a long, black travelling cloak in his arms, before he turned around to gaze at him over his half-moon spectacles.

"Yes," said the old wizard, his expression grave and serious, "and as I promised, you can come with me."

Orion inwardly frowned, wondering the reason for the man's expression, and he asked with purposed eagerness, "Which horcrux is it?"

"I am not sure which it is - though I think we can rule out the snake," said Dumbledore calmly, before he hesitated and sternly pierced him with his blue eyes. "I promised you that you could come with me, and I stand by that promise, but it would be very wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous."

"I'm coming," interjected Orion quickly, pulling a determined expression over his features while he warmly smiled at him. "I need to know how to destroy horcruxes, since I'll be doing it in the future, sir."

Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height, and pinned him with a grave gaze. "Very well, then listen. I take you with me on one condition: that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question."

"Of course," said Orion instantly, nodding at him.

"Be sure to understand me, Orion," said Dumbledore, tilting his chin down to stare at him over his half-moon spectacles. "I mean that you must follow even such orders as 'run', 'hide' or 'go back'. Do I have your word?"

"Yes, of course."

"If I tell you to hide, you will do so?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to flee, you will obey?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to leave me, and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?"

Orion inwardly scoffed, he would do that in a heartbeat, but instead, he showed reluctance and said hesitatingly, "I…"

"Orion?" pressed Dumbledore, eyeing him with stern concern.

And at that, Orion silently stared at him, and they locked gazes. No doubt Dumbledore had to be thinking that he wanted to protect him, but that wasn't the reason for his silence, obviously. Orion was simply inwardly amazed; the old man was actually worried about his safety, instead of his own. The man, apparently, cared about him, and he couldn't understand why. Was it only because the old wizard wanted him stay alive long enough to dying fighting Voldemort? Or was it something else? Things were getting weirder by the moment.

Would the old wizard still protect him if he knew that he had killed Nymphadora Tonks? Or that he had killed Crouch Sr. and done nothing to prevent Neville Longbottom's murder? That he had killed his worthless muggle Uncle and Peter Pettigrew? Or that he was still Voldemort's spouse, magically though not in practice?

Would Dumbledore's benevolence reach as far as to disregard all those things? Though, he wondered if it was benevolence at all. Frankly, he didn't know anymore what to think about the old man. 'Idiot' was the first word that came into his mind, since Dumbledore was being such by still, apparently, worrying about someone whom the old wizard knew to be really on the Dark's side. Admittedly, as of lately, he couldn't decipher Dumbledore; not the wizard's motives, thoughts or plans. Even less, the old wizard's persistent concern about him; seemingly well-intentioned.

Finally, Orion nodded and said quietly, "Yes, sir."

"Very good," said Dumbledore sternly, before he gazed out the fiery window.

The sun was now a ruby-red glare along the horizon, casting a scarlet hue in the old man's blue eyes, and Orion observed him mutely, slightly frowning when he saw the wizard's far-away and gravely pensive expression. Now, he wondered even more what was on the old man's mind.

Dumbledore turned to face him once again, and asked in a low, serious tone of voice, "Do you know how to cast the Disillusionment Charm, my boy?"

"No," said Orion, acting surprised, while the lie smoothly rolled from his tongue. "It's beyond NEWT level, sir."

The old wizard sharply gazed at him over his half-moon spectacles, before he warmly smiled. "Of course. I'll cast it on you then, since I don't want anyone seeing that you're with me. Please stand before me, my dear boy."

Orion nodded and took three steps forward, staring expectantly at him, purposely not allowing his eyes to drift to the wand that was being held over his head. Merlin, he could sense it on his skin; a feeling of leashed power coming off the Elder Wand. And as Dumbledore tapped the wand's tip on Orion's head, his fingers imperceptibly twitched. This was the first time he had been touched by the Undefeatable Wand and he longed to wrap his fingers around it, to feel its power pulsing under his touch. It felt different from the Invisibility Cloak, it felt much more powerful, and it also felt tranquilly mild in comparison to the Resurrection Stone, which always gave off a sense of threatening danger and consuming allure. The wand simply felt as if it was thrumming and buzzing with contained power. He almost expected it to vibrate, though it didn't. Nevertheless, Orion couldn't restrain a shiver of pleasure and desire, and he instantly grimaced, acting as though his shiver had been caused by the feeling of having the Charm casted on him, which always felt as if an egg had been cracked on his head, as if the egg's white and yolk were sliding down his hair.

Then, the moment he saw his body turning invisible and disappearing, Dumbledore swiftly pocketed the wand and said calmly, "Off we go, my boy. Follow me."

They silently moved along the deserted corridors, all students already in their respective common rooms or dorms, since it was well past curfew. And all the while, Orion matched the old man's surprisingly energetic, long strides, though the wizard's manner was leisurely. They made it through the oaken front doors, and by then, Orion was panting puffs of breath, becoming alarmed due to it. That was until he remembered that his physical tiredness was caused by the potion he was daily imbibing. Furthermore, he abruptly remembered that, in his hastiness, he hadn't taken it that late evening, as he always did around that time. He made a mental note of drinking the potion as soon as he could, once he got back, and proceeded to follow Dumbledore down the stone steps, with the old man's travelling cloak barely stirring in the still summer air. Orion hurried alongside him as they crossed the grounds, still panting and tiredly sweating quite a bit.

"What will people think when they see you leaving, sir?" whispered Orion with curiosity.

"That I am off into Hogsmeade for a drink," murmured Dumbledore lightly, without glancing at him. "I sometimes offer Rosmerta my custom, or else visit the Hog's Head… or I appear to. It is as good a way as any of disguising one's true destination."

Orion inwardly scoffed. No doubt that the old wizard also went to Hog's Head to see his estranged brother. Well, it was obvious that Dumbledore would certainly not tell him about Aberforth, though the old wizard had promised to have a 'close and personal conversation' with him – it hadn't happened yet. It left him wondering if Dumbledore had meant it, if the old wizard had been planning on telling him about his past. He inwardly shook his head. It didn't matter anymore, because Dumbledore wouldn't have the chance; the old man would be killed that night.

They made their way down the drive in the gathering twilight. The air was full of the smells of warm grass, lake water and wood smoke from that oaf's, Hagrid, cabin.

"Sir," said Orion quietly, as the gates at the bottom of the drive came into view, "will we be apparating?"

"Yes," replied Dumbledore, briefly side-glancing at him, though Orion wasn't surprised at all about the old man's ability to see through a Disillusionment Charm – indeed, he had suspected about that for long while, and he knew that the man could also see through Invisibility Cloaks, that's why he always used the parsel-invisibility spell instead. "You can apparate now, I expect?"

"Yes," said Orion honestly, thinking that it was best not to lie about it, since that could also raise suspicions, "but I haven't got a license."

"No matter," interjected Dumbledore dismissively, "I can assist you."

They turned out of the gates into the twilit, deserted lane to Hogsmeade. Darkness descended fast as they walked and by the time they reached the High Street night was falling in earnest. Lights twinkled from windows over shops and as they neared the Three Broomsticks they heard raucous shouting.

"-and stay out!" shouted Madam Rosmerta, forcibly ejecting a grubby-looking wizard. "Oh, hello, Albus... you're out late... "

Orion covertly inspected her, inwardly smirking with pride when he saw that her eyes weren't fogged and that her manner wasn't robotic. Draco was certainly very skilled with the Imperius Curse. There was no way of telling that she was under the Unforgivable. Indeed, he couldn't have casted and maintained it better himself.

"Good evening, Rosmerta, good evening… forgive me, I'm off to the Hog's Head… no offence, but I feel like a quieter atmosphere tonight…"

A minute later they turned the corner into the side street where the Hog's Head's sign creaked a little, though there was no breeze. In contrast to the Three Broomsticks, the pub appeared to be completely empty.

"It will not be necessary for us to enter," muttered Dumbledore, glancing around. "As long as nobody sees us go... now place your hand upon my arm, Orion. There is no need to grip too hard, I am merely guiding you. On the count of three - one ... two ... three ..."

After obeying, Orion felt at once the familiar and uncomfortable sensation that he was being squeezed through a thick rubber tube; he could not draw breath, every part of him was being compressed almost past endurance. Nevertheless, he could only think about one thing. Grindelwald wasn't fully informed about current affairs regarding Dumbledore and Aberforth. It was evident to him, given Dumbledore's casual mention of the Hog's Head, that Aberforth would be covering for Dumbledore's absence from the school, if the need arose. Matters between the brothers weren't as tense as Grindelwald believed. Perhaps, they had even made a tentative peace, after all those decades.

Suddenly, he found himself landing in cool darkness, breathing in lungfuls of fresh, salty air. Orion could hear rushing waves, and a light, chilly breeze ruffled his hair as he looked out at moon-lit sea and star-strewn sky. He was standing upon a high outcrop of dark rock, water foaming and churning below him. He glanced over his shoulder. A towering cliff stood behind them, a sheer drop, black and faceless. A few large chunks of rock, such as the one upon which Orion and Dumbledore were standing, looked as though they had broken away from the cliff face at some point in the past. It was a bleak, harsh view, the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or sweep of grass or sand.

And abruptly, Orion was encompassed by a kind of eerie déjà vu. He shuddered, everything around him felt strangely familiar, and he had a flash of a past recollection. He had been here, once, trudging along the rocks, making his way towards… a cave? Yes, a dark, damp cave with… limbs moving in the water? Yes, and he had been a young Regulus Black, with his heart loudly pounding in his chest, followed by an old house-elf, while he glanced around the shadows, tense and alert. He remembered feeling scared but also resolved and pained. He was determined to find and destroy the horcrux, yet it grieved him as well… He had wished that everything would have turned out differently. To be valued and priced by the wizard he loved, instead of being treated as a pet… Yet, he couldn't withstand the humiliation anymore. And even if the chances of being discovered were very high, he rather die, with the blazing certainty that he would come back, more powerful, more skilled, with a second chance to be great, just like they had said to him… Yet, he didn't only want to be the Dark's legendary prophet. He wanted to be magnificent, to hold Voldemort's life in his hands, and to make him yearn for him, long for his attentions… he wanted the wizard to become obsessed with him, and then, he would bestow his affections on the wizard, knowing they were reciprocated, since only obsession would be strong enough to make Voldemort feel anything at all… And finally, he would have the wizard utterly for himself, at his side; always, in greatness and perpetuity-

"What do you think?" asked Dumbledore pleasantly, as if they were discussing matters over tea and biscuits.

The words cut through Orion's mind, and abruptly, the recollection popped away, is if it was a balloon which had been pinched. He dazedly gazed at the old wizard, quickly blinking, trying to gather his own senses back. It had been… unsettling. Regulus' thoughts… Merlin's staff, it was clear that he – that Regulus had been obsessed with Voldemort. He hadn't realized how much, until now. What had he been planning? To destroy some horcruxes yet leave Voldemort alive, tied to him? How – why? He had thought that, in the end, Regulus had been determined to see Voldemort dead, but it obviously wasn't the case. It was evident that the Spirits had told him that he would be reborn as a VA candidate, but, even knowing that such candidates had to kill Dark Lords, Regulus didn't want to do that once his soul was reborn. It was perturbing, the similarities-

"That's where I believe the horcrux is hidden," said Dumbledore, pointing at something in the distance. "There's cave down there; a place I've been trying to locate for a very long time. The cave in which Tom Riddle once terrorized two children from his orphanage on their annual trip. Do you remember that I once mentioned it to you?"

Orion nodded absentmindedly. What he remembered clearly was locket-Tom smugly telling him about it; of how he had tortured those children who had called him an 'abomination' and the 'devil's spawn', terms they had heard from the orphanage's caretakers. And he had understood Tom's reasons for it, and not even batted an eyelash when the portrait had smirked at him, highly self-satisfied, while revealing to him that those children were never quite right in the head after the incident. Well, he still understood Tom, but… He inwardly shook his head, snapping out of it. He couldn't waste time thinking about Tom or about himself – about Regulus.

But that flash of the past recollection had been new. He hadn't seen that memory nor experienced those thoughts during the hellish week when he his mind had been constantly assaulted, before Vagnarov constructed the block in his mind. Feeling a frisson of frantic alarm, Orion instantly concentrated to 'feel' his mind, and in a few seconds, he sensed it – the block was still holding. He inwardly sighed with relief. Though one thing was clear, even with the block, more memories could be triggered if he was in the same circumstances and surroundings as those of his past lifes. And he could only hope that the block would hold, no matter how often it happened.

"Come. The cave lies a little farther on."

Dumbledore beckoned Orion to the very edge of the rock where a series of jagged niches made footholds leading down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff. It was a treacherous descent and Dumbledore moved slowly. But so did Orion, since he could feel the potion-induced exhaustion creeping into his very bones. The lower rocks were slippery with seawater, and he trudged carefully, while he felt flecks of icy, salty water spraying his face.

"Lumos," said Dumbledore, as he reached the boulder closest to the cliff's face.

A thousand flecks of golden light sparkled upon the dark surface of the water a few feet below where he crouched; the black wall of rock beside him was illuminated too.

"You see?" said Dumbledore quietly, holding his wand a little higher. Orion saw a fissure in the cliff into which dark water was swirling. "You will not object to getting a little wet?"

"Not at all," replied Orion impassively.

Abruptly, the old wizard tapped his wand on Orion's head, before he said calmly, "There's no need for you to remain invisible. I doubt anyone's nearby. Now, let us take the plunge."

And with the sudden agility of a much younger man, Dumbledore slid from the boulder, landed in the sea, and began to swim, with a perfect breaststroke, toward the dark slit in the rock face, his lit wand held in his teeth. Orion briefly admired the old wizard's style and fearless attitude, before he checked himself, and took a leap forward. In a second, he plunged into icy water, and he hastily swam, reaching the old man with a few strokes. Orion's waterlogged clothes billowed around him and weighed him down, yet he moved his limbs quickly, to warm them and get rid of the cold numbness encroaching in his muscles.

Taking deep breaths that filled his nostrils with the tang of salt and seaweed, he struck out for the fissure in the cliff, which soon opened into a dark tunnel that Orion knew would be filled with water at high tide – it had been, that time, when he had been Regulus.

The slimy walls were barely three feet apart and glimmered like wet tar in the passing light of Dumbledore's wand. A little way in, the passageway curved to the left, and Orion saw that it extended far into the cliff. He continued to swim in Dumbledore's wake, not revealing that he 'remembered' the way, while the tips of his benumbed fingers brushed the rough, wet rock.

Then he saw Dumbledore rising out of the water ahead, his white-silver hair and dark robes gleaming. When Orion reached the spot, he found steps that led into the familiar, large cave. He clambered up them, water streaming from his soaking clothes, and emerged, swiftly casting a drying and warming charm on himself, before he could shiver due to the freezing air. Though, he purposely used his Phoenix wand. He had never showed his real wand – the Death and Life wand, as Gregorovitch had called it- to Dumbledore. And given Grindelwald's first reaction to it, he knew it was special and important, even though the old German wizard had never wanted to elucidate exactly why.

Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the cave, his wand –the Elder Wand- held high as he turned slowly on the spot, examining the walls and ceiling. "Yes, this is the place."

"How can you tell?" asked Orion, looking puzzled, though he knew how; he felt it on his skin, the nearness of powerful dark spells.

"It has known magic," said Dumbledore simply.

And Orion merely watched as the old wizard continued to revolve on the spot, evidently concentrating to find the entrance. Obviously, he wasn't going to enlighten Dumbledore. Furthermore, he was busy in feeling perfectly relaxed, knowing what lay ahead. He even remembered writing that small piece of parchment he had stuck into the fake locket. Therefore, all his concerns had faded away, because, thankfully, Dumbledore was simply searching for the wrong horcrux.

"This is merely the antechamber, the entrance hall," said Dumbledore after a moment or two. "We need to penetrate the inner place… Now it is Lord Voldemort's obstacles that stand in our way, rather than those nature made..."

The old wizard approached the wall of the cave and caressed it with his fingertips, murmuring words in a strange tongue that Orion recognized, though he barely knew two words of Gobbledegook. Nevertheless, he understood it, because Regulus had learned it, spurred by Walburga to learn the Goblin's language, as many pureblooded children did, in order to be able to conduct financial affairs with an advantage over less educated wizards. The realization, that he understood a language he had never learned in his present life, struck him hard. He had never fully pondered about what had seeped into his mind along with the recollections of past lifes. Certainly, he remembered and knew how to cast arcane spells he had used in previous lifes, but he had thought that he had learned from mere 'observation'. This, was a different case entirely – much more significant.

Twice Dumbledore walked right around the cave, touching as much of the rough rock as he could, occasionally pausing, running his fingers backward and forward over a particular spot, until finally he stopped, his hand pressed flat against the wall.

"Here," he said. "We go on through here. The entrance is concealed."

Dumbledore stepped back from the cave wall and pointed his wand at the rock. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack. Abruptly, the outline disappeared, leaving the rock as bare and solid as ever, and the old wizard did not try any more magic, but simply stood there staring at it intently, as though something extremely interesting was written on it. Orion stayed quiet still; bored out of his mind and just wishing they would get the fake locket quickly, so that he could go back to Hogwarts, give Draco his 'chance' and finally duel Dumbledore and kill him.

He desperately wanted to feel the Elder Wand in his hands; to be done with his Hallow-quest, and thus be able to proceed into undergoing the VA test, at long last. Grindelwald was right, becoming the Vindico was merely the first step, and he wanted to accomplish it as soon as possible. He could straighten out many things once that was done; he would finally be able to fix matters with Voldemort by carefully revealing certain things.

Then, after two solid minutes, Dumbledore said quietly, "Oh, surely not. So crude."

Orion wanted nothing more than to snap impatiently, 'Yes, it's blood magic, of course!' What else could it have been? As if a powerful dark wizard like Voldemort would choose anything but blood magic, which was one of the strongest kinds of dark magic.

Instead, he settled for a politely puzzled, "What is it, sir?"

"I rather think," said Dumbledore, putting his hand inside his robes and drawing out a short silver knife, "that we are required to make payment to pass."

"Payment?" said Orion, pulling a befuddled expression over his features. "You've got to give the door something?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Blood, if I am not much mistaken."

"Blood?" choked out Orion, seemingly appalled.

"I said it was crude," said Dumbledore, who sounded disdainful, even disappointed, as though Voldemort had fallen short of higher standards expected by the old wizard; and Orion had to swallow a snort. "The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered, is that your enemy must weaken him- or herself to enter. Once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury."

Orion inwardly rolled his eyes. The old man missed the point entirely. There wasn't a dark wizard or witch alive who would easily shed their blood. Dark wizards were nothing if not highly cautious and suspicious, and blood could be used for infinity of dark rituals aimed to injure or kill the victim whose blood is used. Indeed, even he -when Rabastan had used his dagger for a little bit of 'blood play'- had made sure that there wasn't a drop of his blood left on the dagger's blade. Therefore, given the Dark's deep-rooted reticence to shed their blood, by demanding this 'blood payment' Voldemort had insured that this obstacle would be one which would stop most dark wizards and witches. And the cunning wizard knew this all too well. Indeed, he wasn't going to spill a drop of his blood for this… No, Dumbledore would have to do it. He wondered if it would be difficult to surreptitiously convince him, and he had to play his part as well, so it could be tricky.

"Yeah, but still, if you can avoid it…" said Orion with studied hesitancy.

"Sometimes, however, it is unavoidable," said Dumbledore calmly, shaking back the sleeve of his robes and exposing a forearm.

"Sir!" protested Orion, playing his part and hurrying forward as Dumbledore raised his knife. "I'll do it, I'm younger."

But Dumbledore merely smiled and slashed down the knife, and Orion only made a gesture of trying to stop him. There was a flash of silver, and a spurt of scarlet; the rock face was peppered with dark, glistening drops. Then, Orion inwardly frowned – it had been too easy. And why wasn't Dumbledore concerned about using his own blood? Or, why didn't Dumbledore want to use _his_ blood?

"You are very kind, Orion," said Dumbledore, now passing the tip of his wand over the deep cut he had made in his own arm, so that it healed instantly. "But your blood is worth more than mine. Ah, that seems to have done the trick, doesn't it?"

Orion nodded, while inwardly, his frown deepened further. What a strange thing for the old man to say: 'Your blood is worth more than mine…'

But before he had a chance to slyly prod about the meaning of those words, without revealing too much himself, the old wizard stepped forward. The blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in the wall once more, and this time it did not fade away. The blood-spattered rock within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total darkness.

"After me, I think," said Dumbledore, and he walked through the archway with Orion on his heels, lighting his own wand hastily as he went.

When they got through, they found themselves standing on the edge of a great black lake, so vast that Orion could not make out the distant banks, in a cavern so high that the ceiling too was out of sight. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the middle of the lake; it was reflected in the completely still water below. The greenish glow and the light from the two wands were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety blackness, though their rays did not penetrate far. The darkness was denser than normal darkness.

Nevertheless, he recognized the greenish light – it was one more obstacle, the potion. But Regulus hadn't known what it was, though he had used the house-elf who had accompanied him, Kreacher's father, so that the creature drank the potion. The house-elf had been very old, about to die of natural causes anyway, and he had indeed died after drinking the potion. Now, Orion was curious to see the potion again, wondering if he would know what it was, since his schooling had been utterly Dark-oriented, unlike Regulus'.

"Let us walk," said Dumbledore quietly. "Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me."

He set off around the edge of the lake, and Orion followed close behind him. Their footsteps made echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim of rock that surrounded the water. On and on they walked, but the view did not vary: on one side of them, the rough cavern wall, on the other, the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy blackness, in the very middle of which was the greenish glow. Orion found the familiar place fascinating, since he knew what lay underneath the surface of the lake. Regulus had found himself in a tight spot when the Inferi had tried to pull him into the water, before the wizard remembered that fire could be used to repel them. But Orion had better aces under his sleeve, and he hoped he would have a chance to try the Necromantic spell, since he had never encountered Inferi before and he was quite eager to test his abilities; without Dumbledore being aware, of course. Moreover, Inferi created by Voldemort would be a challenge; to see if he could command them with the use of his Necromantic abilities – he could, in theory, but he never had a chance to try it.

"I suppose the horcrux is there," said Orion, masking his excitement while he gestured at the distant green glow in the center of the lake.

"I believe so, as well," interjected Dumbledore quietly. "The question is, how do we get to it?"

"Well, I don't think a simple Summoning Charm would do the trick," said Orion, pulling a pensive expression over his features. "Surely Voldemort thought about that, and prepared a trap for anyone who tried an 'Accio'. On the other hand, Voldemort must have left a way for him to get to the middle of the lake. Perhaps we should look around, to discover it."

"My exact, same thoughts," said Dumbledore, shooting him a sharp glance over his shoulder, while he continued along. "I dare say that you've come to understand Voldemort's process of thought very well, my dear boy."

"I have to thank your lessons for that," interjected Orion, warmly smiling at the old wizard as he trailed after him. "It bodes well for us, doesn't it, given that we want to find and destroy all his horcruxes?"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore placidly, before he suddenly came to a halt. "Aha! Stand back against the wall, please; I think I have found the place."

Orion obeyed, knowing exactly what the old wizard had sensed and found. And he stood with an expectantly perplexed expression on his face, while the old man ran his hand through the thin air.

"Oho," said Dumbledore happily, seconds later. His hand had closed in midair upon something invisible.

Swiftly, the old wizard moved closer to the water, keeping his hand clenched in midair, while raising his wand with the other and tapping his fist with the point. Immediately, a thick coppery green chain appeared out of thin air, extending from the depths of the water into Dumbledore's clenched hand. And the old man tapped the chain, which began to slide through his fist like a snake, coiling itself on the ground with a clinking sound that echoed noisily off the rocky walls, pulling something from the depths of the black water – a boat, Orion knew, before it even broke through the surface, since he 'remembered'. Then, it appeared, tiny and glowing as green as the chain, floating with barely a ripple toward the place on the bank where they stood.

"How did you know that was there?" Orion asked, lacing his voice with astonishment.

"Magic always leaves traces," said Dumbledore, as the boat hit the bank with a gentle bump, "sometimes very distinctive traces. I taught Tom Riddle. I know his style."

Orion inwardly agreed with that. Dumbledore would indeed be dangerous for Voldemort's pieces of soul, if the wizard wouldn't be dying that night. It had taken him, Regulus, almost an hour before sensing the boat-enchantment, yet Dumbledore had found it in a few minutes. It was a real shame that he would end up killing such a powerful and sharp wizard. If only Grindelwald had managed to persuade Dumbledore to his side… Well, there was nothing that could be done about that now. Pity.

Shaking away from his musings, he looked down into the tiny boat, and said pensively, "It doesn't look like it was built for two people. Will it hold both of us? Will we be too heavy together?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment has been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it."

In a snap, Orion raised his head to gaze at him. He hadn't thought about that, but it sounded right. Regulus hadn't needed to worry about this matter; he had only been here with a house-elf. "So, then-"

"Well have to take it, one at a time," interjected Dumbledore calmly, intently gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles. "I think it's likely that your power will register, even compared to mine."

"Surely not," gasped out Orion, staring at him with wide eyes, though he felt a frisson of worry – just how powerful Dumbledore suspected him to be? "The potency of my magic cannot be compared to yours, sir. It surely pales in comparison, and isn't even detected by the enchantment-"

"I believe it is," interrupted Dumbledore, gently smiling at him. "Now, don't worry, my boy. I'll go first and send you the boat back, and I'll be watching to make sure that nothing happens to you." His gaze flickered briefly to the lake's surface. "I think danger might come to us if we disturb the water. You'll have to be mindful of that, but if anything occurs, I'll be ready to help you."

"Alright," said Orion, gazing at the water with an expression of wary fearfulness.

The old man patted his shoulder, before he carefully climbed into the boat and coiled the chain onto the floor. Orion observed silently as the boat began to move at once. Soon, there was no sound other than the silken rustle of the boat's prow cleaving the water, as it moved without Dumbledore's help, as though an invisible rope was pulling it onward toward the light in the center of the lake. And in a few more minutes, he distantly saw Dumbledore's figure leaving the tiny boat and stepping towards the green glow.

At last, the boat reached his shore, and Orion quickly and deftly got inside, before it moved, once again towards the middle of the lake. In moments, he could no longer see the walls of the cavern; he might have been at sea except that there were no waves. And when he looked down, as he had expected, he saw something else besides the reflected gold of his wandlight sparkling and glittering on the black water he passed. Marble-white limbs and faces were floating below the surface, creating a veritable lattice of corpses rotting in varying degrees. However, the Inferi were merely drifting peacefully under the lake's surface. Though, as had happened to Regulus, they would certainly become animated once they grabbed the horcrux. He surmised that it would happen in their case too, even if the locket was fake.

He lifted his head to look at the greenish glow towards which the boat was inexorably sailing, and soon, he reached it. Swiftly, he raised his illuminated wand and saw that the boat had come to a halt, bumping gently a small island of smooth rock, with Dumbledore standing right in front of him.

"Careful not to touch the water," said the old wizard, quite redundantly in Orion's opinion, while the man offered him his hand.

Orion nodded and grasped the proffered hand, to climb out of the boat and finally step on the island. Then, he glanced around, inspecting the surroundings which felt, again, familiar. The island was no larger than Dumbledore's office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light; a stone basin which was set on top of a pedestal. And side by side with Dumbledore, he looked down on it. The basin was full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow, but it was thanks to the smell that Orion recognized it – it was sweet, and honey-scented.

And he swallowed a gasp. Merlin's beard, this was a very dangerous potion indeed, with no antidote, and thus lethal in an hour. He remembered this potion clearly, since Master Kragen –Durmstrang's Potions professor- had once brewed it to show it to the class, so that they would learn how to recognize it. The potion was well beyond PRIME-level, thus, they hadn't been taught how to brew it, but they had learned everything else about it. Well, he was certainly not drinking it, and he didn't think that Dumbledore should either. He wanted to duel with the wizard in a fair match of powers, skills, and wits. Having the old coot agonizingly tormented and deliriously weakened wouldn't serve his purposes at all. He didn't want newspapers, and in the future textbooks, saying that he had defeated Dumbledore just because the old coot had already imbibed a lethal poison.

Orion side-glanced at the wizard, and asked quietly, "Do you know what it is?"

"I am not sure," replied Dumbledore tranquilly, gazing down at it with merely a slight frown on his forehead. "Something worrisome, surely."

The old man pushed back the sleeve of his robe, and stretched out the tips of his fingers toward the surface of the potion.

"Don't touch it!" snapped Orion, briskly slapping away the wizard's hand. "It will burn you!"

"I cannot touch," said Dumbledore, smiling faintly. "See? I cannot approach any nearer than this-"

"That's beside the point," bit out Orion crisply, piercing him with his eyes. "I know what it is. It's a very dark potion – the Tormentis Memoratum. It will scorch down the throat of the drinker and make him re-experience his worse memories, slowly poisoning him, till death, which approximately comes in an hour. Furthermore, the drinker will feel agonizing pain, while being lost in his own mind, without being aware of what is happening, and without being able to stop the influx of his most horrible memories. And it's worse than being affected by a Dementor because there's no Patronus Charm to save the day, and no chocolate to make you feel better afterwards!"

Dumbledore gazed at him with twinkling blue eyes, warmly smiling. "It's very noble of you to warn me about this potion, my dear boy."

"I'm not being noble, damn it!" spat Orion with angered annoyance. "I'm being practical. It's obvious that you think the horcrux is below the potion, but it certainly isn't worth poisoning ourselves. Let's go back to Hogwarts, and we can come back once we find a way to get rid of the potion-"

"You are a noble, young wizard, even if you don't like to admit it," interjected Dumbledore gently, his voice sounding amused while his eyes still twinkled, which tempted Orion to rip them out of their sockets. "And I'm certainly not suggesting that either you or I should drink it. I need to test it further."

Orion scoffed. "Go ahead, but I very much doubt that Voldemort would have it any other way. This potion is meant to be drunk by whoever wants to get hold of the horcrux, or by some other victim. He wouldn't be so stupid as to leave any other options."

"Possibly, but we'll have to check, regardless," said Dumbledore cheerfully, before he peered more closely into the basin, with a pensive expression on his face.

Soon, the old wizard was waving his wand in mid-air in complicated movements, sometimes even muttering spells, while other times he obviously used nonverbal ones. After a short while, he caressed his long, silver beard, and murmured musingly, "It cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature." Almost absentmindedly, Dumbledore raised his wand again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere. "I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk."

Orion rolled his eyes, and snorted. "I told you so." Then, he narrowed his eyes at the goblet, and demanded sharply, "What do you intend to do with that?"

"Why, use it to drink the potion, of course," said Dumbledore placidly. "Only by drinking until I empty the basin will we be able to see what lies in its depths."

"Haven't you heard what I told you about the potion?" snapped Orion, darkly scowling at him. "It will kill you!"

Dumbledore beamed a smile. "I'm certain it won't. Don't worry about me, my dear boy."

Orion narrowed his eyes at him, before a realization struck him. Fawkes, of course! The potion had no antidote, but Phoenix's tears could cure someone poisoned by any potion, no matter how lethal, if it was drunk during a certain span of time. In this case, if the tears were swallowed before an hour passed after the potion was imbibed. It would save the old man's life. Nevertheless, it would render the old coot useless, certainly not fit to duel with not even an ant.

"Even if it doesn't kill you," he said crisply, glaring at him, "you'll be in unendurable pain, while experiencing your worst and most traumatizing memo-"

"Let me think," interrupted Dumbledore, raising his hand for silence, as he frowned slightly at the emerald liquid, his mind evidently working hard and fast.

"Undoubtedly," said the old wizard, finally, "given what you said, this potion will surely prevent me from taking the horcrux. It will probably create so much pain that I'll be distracted and rendered incapable, also probably causing me to forget what I am here for." He shot him a stern glance over his half-moon spectacles. "This being the case, Orion, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?"

"It's you who seems to have not understood what I've been telling you," said Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at him, and certainly not wanting to be cheated out from the duel he had expected to have with Dumbledore. "I won't let you drink it. We can come back some other day, to finish the job."

The old wizard did not speak, and their eyes met over the basin, each face lit with the green light which glowed from the potion.

"You remember," said Dumbledore sternly, "the condition on which I brought you with me?"

Orion's eyes narrowed to slits, and he replied crisply, "Yes."

"You swore, did you not, to follow any command I gave you?"

"Yes, but-"

"I warned you, did I not, that there might be danger?"

"Yes," said Orion, heatedly glaring at him, "but -"

"Well, then," said Dumbledore placidly, shaking back his sleeves once more and raising the empty goblet, "you have my orders."

"Why can't I drink the potion instead?" asked Orion, smirking at him. "Surely, I can do it as well. And if I refuse, then so should-"

"You can't drink it because I am much older," interrupted Dumbledore with a smile, "much cleverer, and much less valuable."

Orion snorted, and said tartly, "Older, certainly. Cleverer, that's a matter of opinion, old man. As for less valuable…" He narrowed his eyes at him. "You only say that because I'm the one who can kill Voldemort, since according to the prophecy I have 'power the Dark Lord knows not'."

"I do not measure your value in those terms, my dear boy," interjected Dumbledore calmly. "It is our choices, Orion, that show our worth, far more than our abilities and powers. And I have faith in you; that you'll make the right decisions." He pierced him with his blue eyes, and demanded sternly, "Now tell me, once and for all, do I have your word that you will do everything in your power to make me keep drinking?"

Orion scowled at him, and inwardly grumbled with irritation and angered disappointment. He wouldn't have his magnificent duel against Dumbledore… And he had yearned for it during a very long time... Damn it, he had counted on it! Nevertheless, it was clear to him that he still had to obtain the Elder Wand that night. All he could do was make sure that Dumbledore drank Fawkes' tears as soon as possible, so that the old coot could recover enough to stand in a duel, even if it wouldn't be as challenging as he had hoped. Yes, the whole matter was a crushing disappointment, but if the old fool wanted to take the bloody potion, then he would 'help' him along. He could use this for his benefit, after all.

"Fine," he said dryly, "you have my word."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore contently, while a placid smile spread on his lips.

Then, the old wizard swiftly lowered the crystal goblet into the potion, and it sank into the surface as nothing else had. When the glass was full to the brim, Dumbledore lifted it to his mouth. "To your good health, Orion."

One of Orion's eyebrows twitched with annoyance, before he expectantly observed how the old man drained the goblet.

"How do you feel?" he asked with curiosity, as Dumbledore lowered the empty glass.

The old wizard shook his head, his eyes closed, and Orion wondered whether he was already in pain. Dumbledore plunged the glass blindly back into the basin, refilled it, and drank once more. In silence, Dumbledore drank three gobletsful of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, he staggered and fell forward against the basin. His eyes were still closed, his breathing heavy.

"Dumbledore?" said Orion impassively. "Can you hear me?"

But the old man did not answer, and Orion observed him coolly. His face was twitching as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. His grip on the goblet was slackening; the potion was about to spill from it. Orion reached forward and grasped the crystal cup, holding it steady.

"Professor, can you hear me?" he repeated loudly, his voice echoing around the cavern.

Dumbledore panted and then spoke in a voice Orion did not recognize, for he had never heard Dumbledore frightened like this. "I don't want... Don't make me…"

Orion stared into the whitened face he knew so well, at the crooked nose and half-moon spectacles, and inwardly sighed with irritation. The old fool had brought this upon himself.

"…don't like… want to stop…" moaned Dumbledore.

"You can't stop," said Orion sternly. "You've got to keep drinking, remember? You told me you had to keep drinking. Here…"

And swiftly, without feeling a twinge of compunction, he forced the goblet back toward Dumbledore's mouth and tipped it, so that the old wizard drank the remainder of the potion inside.

"No..." groaned Dumbledore, as Orion lowered the goblet back into the basin and refilled it for him. "I don't want to... I don't want to… Let me go…"

"It's all right, sir," said Orion, turning his voice gentle, switching tactics. "It's all right, you need to take more…"

"Make it stop, make it stop," moaned Dumbledore.

"Yes, this'll make it stop," said Orion soothingly. He tipped the contents of the goblet into Dumbledore's open mouth.

And abruptly, the old man screamed; the noise echoed all around the vast chamber, across the dead black water.

"No, no, no, no, I can't, I can't, don't make me, I don't warn to..."

"It's all right, sir, it's all right," murmured Orion, his hands steady while he scooped up the sixth gobletful of potion; the basin was now half empty.

All the while, he could only think that the sooner the old man got delirious the better. There were quite a few things that he could find out. Moreover, he needed to grasp the locket and covertly rip out the piece of parchment inside before the old wizard could see it. He didn't want Dumbledore to know straight away that the locket was fake, and even less that Regulus Black had taken the original horcrux. Given Dumbledore's sharp mind, the old man would surely piece it together and suspect that Regulus had stashed the real horcrux in Grimmauld Place, and that he had later found it when he was ten-years-old, after Sirius had found him escaping from the Dursleys. And the last thing he wanted was for Dumbledore to know that he had known Tom Riddle since so long. Despite that he was going to kill the old man that night, he wanted the wizard to know as less as possible.

"You're safe, I'll take care of you - now drink this, it will help you..."

And obediently, Dumbledore drank, as though it was an antidote Orion offered him, but upon draining the goblet, he sank to his knees, shaking uncontrollably.

"It's all my fault, all my fault," sobbed the old man. "Please make it stop, I know I did wrong, oh please make it stop and I'll never, never again..."

"This will make it stop," Orion said calmly, as he tipped the seventh glass of potion into the wizard's mouth.

Dumbledore began to cower as though invisible torturers surrounded him; his flailing hand almost knocked the refilled goblet from Orion's firm hands as he moaned, "Don't hurt them, don't hurt them, please, please, it's my fault, hurt me instead..."

"Don't hurt who?" asked Orion softly, deeming that the time was right to get his answers, while he pried open the old man's mouth and made him drink more.

"Ariana!" cried Dumbledore, before he shook from head to foot and fell forward, screaming and hammering his fists upon the ground, while Orion filled the ninth goblet.

"Please, please, please, no... not that, not that, I'll do anything ..."

"Just drink, sir, just drink…"

Dumbledore drank like a child dying of thirst, but when he had finished, he yelled again as though his insides were on fire. "No more, please, no more ..." Then he sobbed piteously, "Ariana… Aberforth… Please, don't hurt them…"

"I won't," murmured Orion, while he scooped up a tenth gobletful of potion and felt the crystal scrape the bottom of the basin. "Only one more, sir. Drink this, drink it..."

He kneeled on the floor, sitting down on his haunches, and placed the old man's head on his lap, while he made him drain the last part. The instant he drank, Dumbledore began to scream in more anguish than ever, "I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die – KILL ME!"

Orion grasped the man's face, gazing at the eyelids scrunched in agony, and he whispered, "I will, soon." Then he gently caressed a silver lock of hair away from Dumbledore's sweaty face, and asked in a soothing tone of voice, "Tell me about Ariana."

"Ariana… mother… Abe!" cried Dumbledore, shaking his head jerkily. "Please… no, my fault!… Gellert…"

"Hush, it was no one's fault," said Orion, caressing the old man's drenched hair. "Not Gellert's, not yours… But tell me, tell me about Ariana's baby… he must have been a beautiful baby boy, yes? Perhaps with Ariana's golden locks, with her blue eyes, like yours?"

"Hyperion…" sobbed Dumbledore, his body spasming in pain, as his light blue eyes opened, dilated and clouded. "Forgive me… my fault…"

Orion's emerald eyes sparkled in triumph, and he pressed on gently, "Hyperion? Such a fitting wizarding name, very beautiful… What's his full name – Albus?"

"Gellert?" mumbled Dumbledore, gazing up at him with unfocused eyes, brimming with tears, yet the eyes feverishly gazed over Orion's features.

Orion slightly frowned, before he nodded and said softly, while caressing the old man's face, "Yes, Albus, it's me… Tell me about Hyperion… We can help him, tell me more…What's his full name?"

"Hyperion… Hyperion Dionysius…"

"That's a middle name, Albus-"

"Gellert!" suddenly cried Dumbledore, grasping Orion's hand in a painful grip, while he rose his head with difficulty, his gaze fogged and trying to focus on Orion's face, unsuccessfully, as his tears finally rolled down his aged cheeks. "Please… please, listen, I-"

Abruptly, he let out a piercing scream of pain and doubled over, landing face-first on the stone floor, his body lying unmoving. Slightly alarmed, Orion rolled the old man on his back, and instantly aimed his wand at him. "Ennervate!"

But when the red light struck the old man's chest, nothing happened. Dumbledore still had his mouth agape, his eyes closed, with his glasses askew.

Cursing under his breath, Orion seized the goblet he had dropped and jabbed it with his wand. "Aguamenti!"

It filled with clear water, but the moment he pressed the goblet's brim to Dumbledore's lips, the water disappeared. It was as he had expected; Voldemort wouldn't have allowed such comfort to be possible for the potion's victim. Abruptly, he heard a fluttering sound, and he snapped his head around, his eyes scanning the lake and his surroundings. But nothing moved. With a frown on his face, he leapt to his feet, about to approach the lake to take some water, knowing he would have to instantly defend them against the Inferi. But he halted in his tracks when his cursory glance caught sight of something.

He gasped, and his jaw hung agape, when he sprung forward and gazed at the empty basin. It was empty –completely; from both potion and locket. It couldn't be possible, just a few moments ago, when he had scooped up the last gobletful of potion, he had fleetingly seen a golden locket curled in the depths of the empty basin. With wide eyes, he frantically glanced around, tightly clutching his wand, tense and alert. But nothing stirred, not even the lake's surface rippled.

Completely befuddled, and highly worried, he glanced down at the empty basin again. It wasn't possible. No one besides them was there; no one knew they were there either! He didn't understand-

A pitiful moan resounded through the cave, and his gaze snapped down, grimacing when he saw Dumbledore's state. Forcibly calming down his wildly spinning mind, he concentrated on what mattered most at present – keeping the old coot alive long enough for Draco to have his 'chance' and for him to kill him afterwards, to finally obtain the Elder Wand and fulfill the Unbreakable Vow. He would think about the mysterious and perplexing sudden disappearance of the fake locket, afterwards.

While Dumbledore rolled to his side, drawing great, rattling breaths which sounded agonizing, Orion moved into action, and swiftly crouched on the edge of the rocky island and plunged the goblet into the lake – just what Voldemort intended an idiot to do, he knew. Then, quickly, for he realized he had mere minutes before the Inferi sprung forth, he brought the goblet -full to the brim with icy water- to Dumbledore.

"Sir, you must drink this, it will help!" he snapped urgently.

Dumbledore's eyelids flickered, and the old man croaked, "Water?"

"Yes, yes," said Orion hastily, carefully pressing the goblet's brim to the wizard's parted and parched lips.

The old man gulped it down with great difficulty, groaning, and Orion plunged the goblet into the lake again, swiftly making Dumbledore drain it once more.

Then, he dropped the goblet and stood up, tensely but also feeling a rush of excitement. He spread one hand forward, just at the same time in which a slimy white hand abruptly shot from the lake, tightly grasping his ankle, forcibly pulling him towards the rippling water. An eager grin spread over Orion's face, when he saw the once mirror-smooth lake churning, white heads and hands emerging from the dark water; men, women and children, with sunken and sightless eyes, and rotting flesh, moving toward the rock - an army of the dead rising before his eyes.

Briefly, he side-glanced at Dumbledore, seeing that the man was once more unaware of what was going on around him, and knowing that the old wizard wouldn't remember what he did now, just like he wouldn't remember the questions he had made about Ariana's son.

Suddenly, the white hand pulled him more energetically towards the lake, and Orion shot it with a spurt of wandless 'Flameo' making the hand hastily retreat, before he briefly closed his eyes and swiftly made his Necromantic powers encompass him.

Then, he opened all-black glowing eyes, and spread the fingers of his raised hand, as he yelled exultantly, "Domino necrocorpus!"

A glowing mist of blackness rushed from his palm, and quickly seemed to flutter down his surroundings, like a breezy veil caressing down the rotting bodies of the Inferi. The change in them was instantaneous. They no longer single-minded moved to crowd him and Dumbledore, to take them into the lake's depths and drown them. Instead, they had all halted, their arms limp by their sides, their frosted eyes upon him, blank. Many had already climbed onto the rock, their bony hands now still as they stopped clawing the slippery surface.

Knowing that he had them under his complete control, he felt a thrilling rush of smugness and satisfaction, and widely smirking, he said calmly, "Once we are in the boat, carry it upon your shoulders and help us make our way back."

The Inferi didn't move, but he knew they would do just as he had commanded. Thus, he quickly aimed his wand at Dumbledore, and snapped, "Stupefy!"

Once the old man lost consciousness, he carefully lifted him up in his arms and climbed inside the small boat, soon settling the wizard behind him. Suddenly, as he had counted on, the boat was raised a few inches from the water, and he glanced down to see some Inferi clutching the sides and the bottom of the boat, moving slowly through the water. Soon, more came towards the boat, rippling through the surface of the lake, their rags sodden and their faces icy and blank. When one of them crumbled, another was there to occupy his or her place. And despite Voldemort's enchantment, since the boat wasn't sailing along the water but hefted in the air, there weren't any incidents in their brief journey towards the bank of the lake.

Finally, their shrunken hands settled the boat on the shore, before they backed away. Orion lifted Dumbledore in his arms, and stepped onto the rocky bank. He briefly glanced at the unmoving Inferi, and said commandingly, "Continue being the guardians of this lake."

Swiftly, he made his Necromantic powers settle calmly inside him, and he knew that his eyes returned to normal and that his control over the Inferi had ended. He saw them simply sinking into the black water once again, silently and expressionless.

He leaned the stupefied wizard against the cavern wall, and aiming at the old man's chest, he said quietly, "Enervate."

With a shuddered intake of breath, Dumbledore's eyes slowly opened with difficulty, and he murmured with a faint voice, "What happened… where? The horcrux?"

"You fainted, sir. And we're still inside the cave," replied Orion quietly, thinking fast about what he was going to tell the old man. "There wasn't any horcrux inside the basin. And Inferi attacked us after I gave you some of the lake's water. But everything is fine now, sir. I used fire against them, and they are back in the lake."

"There wasn't a horcrux?" croaked Dumbledore, his feverish and pained gaze landing on Orion's face.

"No," replied Orion simply.

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and remained silent for a brief stretch of time, before he whispered faintly and haggardly, "I am weak…"

"As was to be expected after drinking the bloody potion," interjected Orion sharply. He heaved in a sigh, and said more gently, as he eyed the wizard's extreme pallor and air of pained exhaustion, "Don't worry, sir, I'll get us back. Here, I'll carry you."

He swiftly pulled one of Dumbledore's arm around his shoulders, and wrapped one arm around the wizard's torso, and another under the back of the man's knees. With a grunt, for he was feeling physically exhausted as well, he lifted the old man in his arms, once more, and made his way out the cavern.

"The protection was… after all... well-designed," said Dumbledore faintly, his voice slurred. "One alone could not have done it... You did well, very well, Orion... We didn't fail – at least we know a horcrux is not here… we'll keep looking…"

"Don't talk now," said Orion shortly, in between panted breaths. "Save your energy - we'll soon be out of here."

"The archway will have sealed again… My knife..." '

"Yes," said Orion, and he was about to lean the old man against the cavernous wall, to grasp the knife and pinch one of the wizard's fingers, when he saw that the stones were still shifted to a side – the archway was still open, or someone had reopened it on their way back.

A deep frown spread on Orion's forehead. There had been someone else inside, the same person who took the fake locket. But how? He hadn't sensed anyone. Even if someone had gotten inside under a Disillusionment Charm, he would have seen through the Charm, and he would have sensed the person's magical core as well… He didn't like this at all. It was alarming and perplexing. However, he had to get moving, Dumbledore wasn't looking well at all, and he needed to get him back; Draco was waiting.

Without a word, he went through the archway, still carrying Dumbledore, who thankfully had his eyes closed, seemingly too pained to be aware of what was happening. He crossed the outer cave, and Orion helped Dumbledore back into the icy seawater that filled the crevice in the cliff.

"It's going to be all right, sir," panted out Orion laboriously, as he started swimming with one arm draped around the wizard's chest, helping him swim along, dragging him through the icy waves. "We're nearly there... I can apparate us both back... Don't worry…"

"I am not worried, Orion," said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water and his weak armstrokes. "I am with you."

Orion shot him a glance and frowned. Who did the old wizard believe he was speaking to? Those psychological manipulations wouldn't work on him! Though, it could be that the old man was still delirious. Or perhaps not; perhaps the man truly meant it - believed it.

"You're a fool, Albus Dumbledore," he whispered inaudibly, shaking his head, as he continued swimming and dragging the old man.

* * *

Once back under the starry sky, Orion heaved Dumbledore on to the top of the nearest boulder and then to his feet. Sodden and shivering, with Dumbledore's weight still upon him, he swiftly casted on them drying and warming charms. Then, he concentrated and pictured clearly their destination: Hogsmeade. Closing his eyes, gripping Dumbledore's arm as tightly as he could, he stepped forwards into that feeling of uncomfortable compression.

He knew it had worked before he opened his eyes: the smell of salt, the sea breeze had gone. He and Dumbledore were finally in the middle of the dark High Street in Hogsmeade. Everything was still, the darkness complete but for a few streetlamps and lit upper windows.

"We're back," panted out Orion, his limbs stiff and aching, feeling utterly exhausted.

Though, he caught the old wizard when the man abruptly staggered against him. Seeing that Dumbledore wasn't aware of much at present, he swiftly whipped out his Phoenix wand, and whispered hastily, "Patronus Messagum!"

Instantly, glowing shapes flowed from his wand; the Phoenix and the Basilisk, his own Patroni even though he wasn't using the Death and Life wand, which had, as double core, basilisk poison and phoenix tears. He chose the Basilisk, and silently thought the message he wanted to give Severus. He chose the Basilisk purposely, for when his guardian had taught him that spell, the sour man had sneered at the Phoenix -deeming it utterly Gryffindorish and Lightish- and also jeering at his incapability of just summoning one of the Patroni and not both; he was still working on that.

Finally, the glowing Basilisk quickly slithered through the air, and he knew the patronus would soon be passing through Hogwarts' walls, and into Severus' private quarters, where the wizard undoubtedly was this late at night. And then, the message would be delivered in his own voice. It was simple, he just told Severus that Draco had finished fixing the cabinet, that Death Eaters were surely already inside the school, and that he had Dumbledore with him, in a weakened condition. He left the decision about what to do, to Severus. Though he was certain that his guardian would be up in his feet and rushing to look for them, as soon as he heard the message. And, unused, he recalled the Phoenix patronus, which pleasantly plunged into him, disappearing.

Suddenly, he felt something sliding from his arm, and he didn't react quickly enough to stop Dumbledore from sinking to the ground.

He grasped the old wizard's crumbled shoulder, and leaned down to gaze at the pale face. "We need to get you to the school. Why don't you call Fawkes? You intended to drink his tears, right?"

"It's not necessary, it is… Professor Snape whom I need," said Dumbledore weakly, the corners of his mouth twitching. "That potion was… no health drink…"

"Snape?" interjected Orion with a frown. "There's nothing he can concoct quickly enough, and the potion has no antidote – I told you that. Fawkes-"

"Professor Snape first," interrupted Dumbledore hastily, his voice getting stronger. "I'll have Fawkes' tears after I've seen Severus. By my calculations, I drank the potion only thirty minutes ago, I have time and there are more pressing matters."

"Fine," said Orion impatiently, "then let's get you back to Hogwarts." He glanced around, and muttered, "I can ask Madam Rosmerta for help, we could floo from her pub-"

"No, I don't want anyone to know," said Dumbledore clearly. "Severus… I only need Severus... but I do not think... I can walk very far just yet..."

Orion suppressed his irritation, for he wanted to let Romerta know that they were back, who would undoubtedly alert Draco. He couldn't use the two-way mirror right now, not with Dumbledore suddenly being fully-aware, once again.

He aimed his wand at the old wizard, and said coolly, "All right then, Snape. Now, I'll just cast a hovering charm on you-"

Before Orion could make a move, however, he heard running footsteps. His heart leapt, as he felt a frisson of alarm: somebody had seen, somebody knew the old coot needed help… But he sighed in relief when he looked around and saw Madam Rosmerta scurrying down the dark street towards them on high-heeled, fluffy slippers, wearing a silk dressing-gown embroidered with dragons. She was a Merlin-sent, though it was clear that she had been spying to know when they returned.

"I saw you apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn't think what to - but what's wrong with Albus?"

She came to a halt, panting, and stared down, wide-eyed, at Dumbledore.

"He's hurt," said Orion hastily, since he simply wanted to find Draco and be done with the whole matter, the sooner he killed the old wizard the better. "Madam Rosmerta, can we come into the Three Broomsticks and use your floo to reach Hogwarts faster?"

"You can't go to the school, not with Albus like this! Don't you realize – haven't you seen -?"

"What has happened?" asked Dumbledore instantly, all concerns about being seen in that state having seemingly disappeared. "Rosmerta, what's wrong?"

"The Dark Mark, Albus," gravely replied the curvacious witch.

And she pointed into the sky, in the direction of Hogwarts. Orion swiftly turned and looked up. There it was, hanging in the sky above the school: the blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a building... wherever they had murdered... He inwardly cursed. He had told Draco to keep still until they got back! And the Death Eaters were already attacking? Though, given that Rosmerta had made them notice the Mark, it was probably a ruse to get Dumbledore there… And the Mark was right above the Astronomy Tower… Suddenly, Orion deeply frowned – a Tower, Trelawney's vague warning… Well, he would be on his guard, but the Astronomy Tower was certainly where Draco wanted Dumbledore and him to go.

"When did it appear?" asked Dumbledore urgently, and his hand clenched painfully upon Orion's shoulder as he struggled to his feet.

"Must have been minutes ago, it wasn't there when I put the cat out, but when I got upstairs -"

"We need to return to the castle at once," said Dumbledore. "Rosmerta," and though he staggered a little, he seemed wholly in command of the situation, "we need transport - brooms -"

"I've got a couple behind the bar," she said, looking very frightened. "Shall I run and fetch -?"

"No, Orion can do it."

Well, finally the old man wanted to get hasty; perfect for him. He nodded, and raised his wand at once. "Accio Rosmerta's brooms!"

A second later they heard a loud bang as the front door of the pub burst open; two brooms had shot out into the street and were racing each other to Orion's side, where they stopped dead, quivering slightly, at waist height.

"Rosmerta, please send a message to the Ministry," said Dumbledore, as he mounted the broom nearest him. "It might be that nobody within Hogwarts has yet realized anything is wrong..."

Then, the old wizard tapped his wand on Orion's head, and Orion felt as if an egg had been split open, soon seeing his body shimmering under the Disillusionment Charm. Not particularly caring about it, he swiftly mounted the broom; Madam Rosmerta was already tottering back towards her pub as Dumbledore and he kicked off from the ground and rose up into the air. As they sped towards the castle, Orion glanced sideways at Dumbledore, seeing that the old man seemed reenergized. The sight of the Dark Mark seemed to have acted upon Dumbledore like a stimulant: he was bent low over his broom, his eyes fixed upon the Mark, his long silver hair and beard flying behind him in the night air.

He lagged a bit behind, and quickly snatched out the two-way mirror from his robes' pocket, and whispered quietly, "Draco?"

The smooth surface rippled, and he soon saw the reflection of his friend's face, who looked nervous and agitated. "Merlin's staff, you're finally back… Took you long enough-"

"Yes," interrupted Orion in a low murmur, his voice pressing. "Look, we're going to reach the Astronomy Tower in a few minutes. So get there, if you aren't already." He briefly frowned down at the mirror, before steadying his gaze to make sure he flew following Dumbledore, and asked sharply, "What have the Death Eaters done? Have they killed-"

"I'll be right there!" snapped Draco hastily, his image disappearing from the mirror.

Orion grumbled, and pocketed the two-way mirror, latching his hand on the broom's handle, above the other hand which had been already directing it. As they flew over the dark, twisting lane down which they had walked earlier, he heard, over the whistling of the night air in his ears, Dumbledore muttering in some strange language. He understood why as he felt his broom shudder for a moment when they flew over the boundary wall into the grounds: Dumbledore was undoing the enchantments he himself had set around the castle, so that they could enter at speed. The Dark Mark was still glittering directly above the Astronomy Tower, the highest of the castle.

But it was something else which caught his attention; as he glanced down, he saw small shimmering bodies, running along the outer walls of Hogwarts – Disillusioned people he could see since he had become powerful enough, ever since his 'breakthrough' during his lesson with Grindelwald, months ago… And he gasped, remembering that there had been Aurors stationed there, on the look-out if Voldemort someday decided to attack the school. Something that Scrimgeour had conceded to Dumbledore. He had forgotten about them, but it was clear that they had seen the Dark Mark that had been casted a few minutes ago, according to Rosmerta. They were probably waiting for reinforcements before barging into Hogwarts, knowing they would be battling Death Eaters. Merlin's beard, nothing would go smoothly. And he hoped Draco had considered the Aurors in his plans, he had told the boy about them. Rosmerta surely wasn't going to alert the Ministry, as Dumbledore had asked, but the Aurors here, at present, certainly had already. Not to mention the Order of the Phoenix, who had members within the Auror Force – Shacklebot and the retired Moody, for instance. Yes, all of them would soon drop in… There was going to be a fierce and messy battle tonight… And he had his own tasks to accomplish…

He broke from his musings - knowing that he had endured and succeeded in worse situations - when he saw Dumbledore crossing the crenellated ramparts and dismounting. Orion rushed his broom forward, and swiftly landed next to him seconds later. He instantly gazed around. There was no one there. The ramparts were deserted. The door to the spiral staircase that led back into the castle was closed. There was no sign of a struggle, of a fight to the death, or of a body.

He looked up at the green skull with its serpent's tongue sliding and coiling out above them, and a shiver ran down his spine. It was beautiful, glowing green in the star-strewn skies; Voldemort's mark. It had been ages since he had seen it, and over two months since he had seen the wizard himself… Would he be seeing him that night? Suddenly, he hoped so, but in what circumstances would it be? And more importantly, would he feel nothing for the man, as he partially wished… Though, he knew, deep inside, that despite everything, despite hating him as much as he loved him, he would still 'feel' something for the bloody wizard. Voldemort wasn't someone easily forgotten. And just because of that, he wasn't looking forward to seeing him again. He had done very well for himself, these past months, by pushing to a side all thoughts about the wizard. And he wanted to remain unaffected. Though, he would have to see the wizard sooner or later, given his wish to participate in Dark Allies Meetings from now on, since he wasn't planning on coursing his seventh year.

"Go and wake Professor Snape," said Dumbledore faintly but clearly. "Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else and do not remove your Dissillusionment Charm. I shall wait here."

Orion didn't move an inch, though he hesitated. Severus already knew, and the wizard was undoubtedly looking for them at present. Moreover, he wanted to wait for Draco and the Death Eaters.

Finally, he sighed, and started quietly, "But -"

"You swore to obey me, Orion - go!" interrupted Dumbledore, his voice suddenly loud and stern.

Orion slowly went over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, bidding time, and out of excuses. His hand had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when he heard running footsteps on the other side. He inwardly yelled with relief, and immediately turned round to glance at Dumbledore, who gestured to him to retreat. Orion backed away, drawing his wand as he did so, ready to fully help Draco when the boy came in.

The door burst open and somebody erupted through it, and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Abruptly, before he could even blink, Orion found his body instantly rigid and immobile, his mouth had shut close in a volition of its own, and he felt himself fall back against the Tower wall, propped like an unsteady statue, unable to move or speak. Dumbledore had done this! He wildly spurred his magic inside him to break free, but he halted when he saw, by the light of the Mark, how Dumbledore's wand flew in an arc over the edge of the ramparts. And his eyes widened frantically – the Elder Wand had just flown over! That wasn't all, the old coot had wordlessly immobilized him, and the second he had taken to perform the spells had cost him the chance of defending himself – not that Orion cared about that, but he greatly cared about who had just disarmed the old fool; Draco. He inwardly groaned. Dumbledore wasn't the Elder Wand's master anymore – Draco was, therefore he would have to duel Draco… Merlin's staff, but he couldn't hurt his friend, and what was more, he was still going to duel and kill the old man. Nothing would change his mind on that subject. He wanted Dumbledore gone; even if he understood the man better and even if he admitted that the old wizard had some redeeming qualities. He certainly understood why Gellert had loved him; Dumbledore was powerful, clever, highly educated, knowledgeable, and cunning. And the wizard must have been even more magnificent when he was younger. But still, the Leader of the Light had to be killed.

Orion's attention snapped to the wizards, when Dumbledore said pleasantly, "Good evening, Draco."

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He was merely gazing across at his disarmer.

Draco stepped forwards, quickly glancing around. His silvery eyes fell upon the second broom, then around the place, and Orion knew that the young wizard was looking for him. "Who else is here?"

"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?"

In the greenish glow of the Mark, Orion saw Draco's mercurial gaze shift back to Dumbledore. And he wondered why he wasn't snapping out from the spells the old wizard had casted on him, but he knew. In truth, he wanted to see what Draco would do. Though, he would interfere if matters got out of hand, since he had an Unbreakable Vow to fulfill and since he wanted to be the one to kill the old man.

"No," said Draco firmly. "I've got back-up. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."

"Well, well," said Dumbledore, as though he was being shown an ambitious homework project. "Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?"

"Yeah," replied Draco, widely smirking. "Right under your nose and you never realized!"

"Ingenious," said Dumbledore. "Yet, forgive me, where are they now? You seem unsupported."

"They met some of your guard – the Order," snapped Draco bitingly. "They're having a fight down below. They won't be long... I came on ahead. I… I've got a job to do."

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," said Dumbledore softly.

There was silence. Orion still allowed himself to be imprisoned within his own invisible, paralyzed body, staring at the two of them, his ears straining to hear sounds of the Death Eaters' distant fight, and in front of him, Draco did nothing but stare at Albus Dumbledore who smiled.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" snapped Draco at once, though Orion noticed that the boy's voice slightly faltered, and then the young wizard flushed, probably because he had sounded a bit childish and uncertain.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," said Draco more forcefully, when Dumbledore remained silent, "you don't know what I've done!"

"Oh, yes, I do," said Dumbledore mildly. "You almost killed Katie Bell. You have been trying to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but the attempt had been feeble... so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it... And also, it's quite remarkable how you only tried once, with the opal necklace."

"My attempts aren't feeble anymore!" interjected Draco vehemently. "I've been working all year, just for tonight to happen, and now-"

Suddenly, somewhere in the depths of the castle below Orion heard a muffled yell. Draco stiffened and glanced over his shoulder. And it was then when Orion finally realized that if the Order was battling the Death Eaters, it could also mean that Sirius – that his father was with the Order as well, since he had sent the man to become one of them, in order to spy. Thus, he quickly moved into action, spurring his dark magic inside him, while the other two wizards kept talking, Dumbledore pleasantly, and Draco increasingly more nervous.

"I haven't got any options!!" was saying Draco loudly, just as Orion managed to wandlessly cancel one of the spells casted on him, now being able to talk, though he remained invisible and immobilized. "I've got to kill you or he'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Dumbledore. "Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you. I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other... no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived... I can help you, Draco."

"No, you can"t," said Draco, his face pale and with wand hand shaking very badly. He looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. And he gulped and took several deep breaths, before he continued, "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."

"Yes, you do," said Dumbledore, and Orion saw the old man's feet slide a little on the floor as the wizard struggled to remain upright, just when he finally removed the second spell on him.

Now his body was visible, though none of them had yet noticed, but he couldn't move still, and he put more effort on it, becoming frantic. The old man had certainly casted very strong spells on him, and his own exhaustion didn't help matters – damn the potion he had been taking daily, he was going off it as soon as he could.

"Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. And I know your father isn't in Azkaban anymore. We'll do our best to pull him out from Voldemort's grasp, and we can protect him too... come over to the right side, Draco... you are not a killer..."

Draco stared at Dumbledore, and his mouth contorted involuntarily, as though he had tasted something very bitter. And just when Orion thought the conversation was turning dangerous, since he saw Draco considering what Dumbledore offered, he finally managed to cancel the last spell, at last being able to move. As soon as he took a faltering step forward, there was a bang and shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where they stood. With his heart pounding fast inside his chest, worried about his father, Orion straightened his shoulders and firmly stepped forward, into the green light casted by the Dark Mark. Swiftly, he grasped Draco's shoulder, and the young wizard swirled around, wand aimed forward, startled and about to bellow a curse.

"It's just me," muttered Orion tiredly, his gaze fixed on Dumbledore, who was now unsteadily leaning on the rampart of the Tower, looking weaker.

"Where the bloody hell where you?!" snapped Draco, though he certainly looked relieved and more self-confident.

"Ah, I see," murmured Dumbledore, gazing at them with a small smile. "You're truly close friends, as I suspected. My dear boys, despite your attempts to show yourselves as enemies, you weren't successful in masking your true sentiments for each other, not from me. I dare say that you're very good friends, and possibly more?"

Draco glared at the man, and Orion simply gazed at him impassively, his lips curving into a smile as well, though it wasn't pleasant, but cold and sharp. "You suspected, you say? Perhaps, but there are many things you don't know."

"Indeed?" said Dumbledore calmly. "And I suppose you're going to reveal them to me?"

"No, why should I?" interjected Orion dismissively. "Boasting is useless and most of times counterproductive."

"Then I should tell you that I know much more than you're aware of," interjected Dumbledore placidly, piercing him with his eyes. "I know for instance, that you already have two of them, and that the third and last one just flew over the battlements. Nevertheless, I cannot allow you to have it, my dear boy. And why didn't you take it from me before? Why did you tend to me, my boy?"

"What? What's he talking about?" demanded Draco confusedly, his gaze snapping to Orion.

"I didn't tend to you," interjected Orion, his body stiffening while his gaze still locked with Dumbledore's. "I simply couldn't allow you to die before your time. Draco and I must do our part, before that."

"Oh, quite," said Dumbledore calmly, before he sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "I also know how powerful you've become, my dear boy. Even though, a few months ago, I could no longer sense it. You took something to suppress it, didn't you? So that I and others wouldn't perceive how powerful you've grown. But I know, nonetheless; you're so like him…" He peered at him over his half-moon spectacles, and added softly, "I also know he's alive. For a whole week, after Voldemort destroyed Nurmengard, and after I saw his scorched corpse, I believed he had truly died. But then, I felt him." He weakly smiled. "And he's close by - in England, I think. No doubt, he's with you, and you should have taken him far away if you didn't want me to know that he was still alive. Didn't he tell you?"

Orion stood shell-shocked, never even imagining the old man could know that Grindelwald lived. But he soon recovered his senses, his posture nonchalant, and he asked coolly, "Tell me what?"

"Ah, he didn't," murmured Dumbledore, looking suddenly distant, slightly regretful and saddened. "Maybe he thought I wasn't capable of feeling him anymore, maybe he doesn't feel me himself. But he's mistaken, I never stopped feeling him."

"What do you mean?" demanded Orion sharply, a deep frown on his face.

Dumbledore faintly smiled at him. "Ask him. Tell me, were you planning on killing me, to get the Wand?" His gaze flickered to Draco, and he added quietly, "What will do you now that your friend has disarmed me?"

"It doesn't change my plans," said Orion curtly.

"So you are going to kill me?" asked Dumbledore calmly, gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles.

"No, he isn't," snapped Draco, glaring at the both of them and aiming his wand at the old man. "I am!"

Dumbledore gazed at him, and said gently, "You're not a killer, my boy."

"I got this far, didn't I?" bit out Draco. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here, and you're in my power. I'm the one with the wand. You're at my mercy."

"No, Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now." His gaze met Orion's. "To both of you."

"We don't need your help, old man," interjected Orion sharply.

"Really?" said Dumbledore gravely, piercing him with his eyes. "And you think Voldemort won't torture Draco? Are you ready to fight him to save your friend's life?"

Orion scoffed, and said nonchalantly, "If I must."

"And what about your father?" asked Dumbledore, gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Oh, I could piece it all together; the way you must have resurrected him, what you used, and who helped you. Are you going to become one of them? Is that how you plan to spare Voldemort? Because I know you cherish him. I could see the admiration and affection in your eyes, when you gazed at Tom Riddle, in the memories I showed you. Oh, you concealed it well, my boy, but I wasn't fooled-"

"And it seems that you know the truth, then," hissed out Orion, narrowing his eyes at him, suddenly seething with fury, though he was also alarmed that the old man knew about the existence of the Guild – Grindelwald hadn't, until he told him. "The truth about the prophecy, what it really means and alludes to. You knew and lied about-"

"I never lied-"

"You did!" spat Orion irately, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained anger. "And you tried to mislead me by keeping a lot of information to yourself. I know many things as well, things you didn't want to reveal to me, because you needed me to be your tool, your sacrifice!" He glared at him, and sneered contemptuously, "And was it for the Greater Good, Dumbledore? Is that what you tell yourself?"

Dumbledore eyed him with a saddened expression on his face. "No, my dear boy. You must listen to me. There's much you really don't know about. You have many options open to you. You don't necessarily need to-"

Abruptly, footsteps thundered up the stairs, and a second later, four people in black robes burst through the door on to the ramparts, and Draco –still looking disconcerted by the conversation- was buffeted out of the way, and Orion quickly moved to a side, with a firmer hold of his wand, tensing.

"Dumbledore cornered!" said a lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer, as he wheezed a giggle. Orion immediately recognized him as Amycus Carrow, just when the wizard turned to a stocky little woman who was grinning eagerly. "Dumbledore wandless! Dumbledore defenseless! Well done, Draco, well done!"

"Good evening, Amycus," said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. "And you've brought Alecto too... charming..."

The woman gave an angry little titter, and she jeered, "Think your little jokes'll help you on your death bed, then?"

"Jokes? No, no, these are manners," replied Dumbledore pleasantly, and Orion couldn't suppress an amused chuckle.

Oh, even if he was going to kill the old man, he could still enjoy the wizard's unique way of countering. Indeed, the man had style. But his chuckle must have been loud, because the four Death Eaters, who had apparently been unaware of his presence, rounded on him.

"You – here?!" spat Bellatrix in a shrilly voice, her dark eyes sparkling with true hatred.

"Auntie, you're looking well," said Orion sarcastically, shooting her a smirk.

"Try saying that to your father," sneered Bellatrix, eyeing him venomously. "I cannot grasp how that bloodtraitor is still alive – it's rumored you brought him back to life, but I don't believe it. You're nothing now, are you? Not after My Lord got tired of you and discarded you as the used fuck toy you were-"

"Still jealous, Bella?" interjected Orion impassively, before he instantly aimed his wand at her, and hissed icily, "And if you did something to Sirius, I'll rip your eyes out and slowly torture you until you lose the bit of sanity you have left. And then, I'll use your corpse and turn you into an Inferi, and I'll obliterate your soul, and you'll be nothing but rotting flesh, an empty carcass, forever."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at him, and she was about to say something, spitting with fury, when a raspy voice growled behind Orion's back, sounding angry and heated, "Remus' cub. It's been a while."

Orion spun around, and was confronted by a big, rangy man with matted grey hair, in whom the black Death Eater's robes looked uncomfortably tight. He supposed the man might have been handsome once, with the silver-hued hair, strong masculine features and deep amber eyes. But he certainly wasn't at present. He hadn't seen the werewolf in years, but Greyback looked awful; his mouth revealing sharp, thick and blood-stained incisors, his lips curled upwards, his robes stained and ragged, blood dribbling from his chin, his face gaunt and dark shadows under his eyes, and with filthy hands with long yellowish nails. Furthermore, Orion could smell a poignant mixture of dirt, sweat, and of blood coming from him. He grimaced in distaste. This was the man he had promised Connolly to bring to Lycaon, and to Remus? He must be out of his mind. And he had thought that his relationship with Voldemort was messy and troublesome; it certainly paled in comparison with what poor Remus had. The fates had certainly been cruel when dealing with Remus, by making him the mate of the… creature before him. Why, he would choose Voldemort over Greyback, any day.

"Fenrir," he said dryly, "it has been a long while."

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely.

"That blood better not be from someone I care for," said Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at the werewolf.

Greyback's grin spread viciously, and he jeered nastily, "Ow, cub, I wouldn't-"

"Enough of this!" snapped Alecto impatiently, as she glared at all of them, while Orion merely glanced at Greyback, a bit puzzled since the werewolf had been 'nice' to him, for the man's standards. "We'll deal with the Dark Lord's spouse after-"

"He's not our Master's spouse anymore!" shrieked Bellatrix enraged. "He doesn't deserve any consideration or respect, not that he ever did!"

"He's still powerful," interjected Alecto sharply, glaring at the other witch. "Or have you forgotten what Rabastan-"

"Lies, all LIES!" bellowed Bellatrix, looking quite crazed. "No one can defeat My Lord, and even less this pathetic little boy!"

"Who is a Black," bit out Alecto, narrowing her eyes. "He's your relative, Bella, so I don't see why you scorn him so much, after the things he's proved to be able to do! He's an asset to the Dark."

Orion observed how the witches irately glared at each other, filing the information away, since it was certainly useful to know that they hated one another, for some reason – probably because they competed between them, being the only female Death Eaters. But what caught his attention was Dumbledore, who was gazing at him with a pale and pained expression on his face. So finally the old man knew that he had once been Voldemort's spouse… Then, he heard a gasp, and his gaze flickered to Draco. The young wizard was piercing him with his silvery eyes, and his expression was one of gleeful joy. Orion rolled his eyes, and merely shot him a faint grin. So now Draco knew that he was 'unattached'…

"We have to get going," growled Greyback impatiently, roughly grabbing Draco by the neck and pulling him forward. "Do it, lad."

"Fenrir Greyback…" muttered Dumbledore, gazing at the werewolf.

"Yes, Dumbledore, it's me," jeered the werewolf, grinning widely and revealing once again his bloodied teeth.

"Are you attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual... you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?"

"That's right," said Greyback. "Shocks you, that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?"

"Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little," said Dumbledore calmly, his eyes flickering to Orion with something he couldn't discern, before the gaze turned to Draco and back to the werewolf. "And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live..."

"I didn't," breathed Draco. He was not looking at Greyback; he did not seem to want to even glance at him. "I didn't know he was going to come -"

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," rasped out Greyback. "Not when there are throats to be ripped out... delicious, delicious..." He raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at Dumbledore. "I could do you for afters, Dumbledore..."

"No," said Alecto sharply. "We've got orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly."

Orion silently gazed at his friend, relieved when he saw that the young wizard was showing less resolution than ever. He looked terrified as he stared into Dumbledore's face, which was even paler, and rather lower than usual, since the old wizard had slid so far down the rampart wall.

But then, suddenly, Draco's silvery eyes gazed at him, and he saw the young wizard's jaw clenching, and a sparkle of determination glowing in his eyes. And just like that Orion knew one thing: Draco would do it, surprinsingly. He knew why as well. Because he was there, observing. He knew Draco hated when others perceived him as weak, but the boy would even hate more to give him reason to believe that Draco wasn't ruthless enough. After all, Draco always thought that he had once chosen to become Voldemort's spouse because the wizard was powerful, ruthless, strong, and vicious. By killing Dumbledore, Draco believed he would be proving his worth. And yes, Orion would have agreed, if circumstances were different, but he couldn't allow the boy to do it – Dumbledore was his.

And when he saw the fury and hatred growing like a tempest in Draco's silvery eyes, as the boy called forth those emotions to be able to cast the Killing Curse, Orion swiftly aimed his wand at him, and yelled, "Expelliarmus!"

The Death Eaters roared in anger, and Draco stared at him, stunned, bewildered, and then furiously, but Orion ignored them and deftly caught Draco's wand in mid-air. And he inwardly smirked, highly satisfied, knowing that by having disarmed Draco he had just become the Elder Wand's Master.

Abruptly, a violet beam of light careened towards him and he jumped to a side, before he glanced around with narrowed eyes.

"TRAITOR!" bellowed Bellatrix, her dark eyes spitting fire, as she shot him another curse.

"You stupid witch," snapped Orion angrily, swiftly rising up a shield to block the spell. "I'm no traitor. You of all people should know why I'm doing this!"

"The Unbreakable Vow you took," snarled Bellatrix in a low voice laced with fury, "doesn't bind you to kill the old goat! You only had to do it if Draco failed, and he was about to kill the mudblood-lover!"

"I have reasons to kill Dumbledore myself," interjected Orion curtly.

"And My Lord will torture Draco if he doesn't do it!" hissed out Bellatrix, narrowing her eyes at him. "Haven't you thought of that?! I would have never agreed to you taking the Vow if I had known that you would do this-"

"What Unbreakable Vow?" demanded Alecto sharply, glaring at Bellatrix. "Our Master said that no one had to interfere with Draco's task, and you made Lord Black take an Unbreak-"

"He isn't Lord anything!" screeched Bellatrix, looking deranged in her fury.

"Tell me something, Bella," interjected Orion crisply. "You care about what happens to Draco, your nephew, yet you don't care two figs about me, also your nephew, even if I'm twice removed?"

"You're just a bloodtraitor's son, his spawn with a mudblood. You're nothing more than a filthy half-blood," spat Bellatrix, her tone contemptuously sneering. "You are no nephew of mine."

"Fine," said Orion, eyeing her with a cold expression on his face. "But know this, I won't let anything happen to Draco – I certainly care more about him than you proclaim to- and I will be the one to kill Dumbledore." He glanced at Draco, and said quietly, "Trust me, Draco. I would never let anything happen to you, but I want to kill the old man myself. Do you trust me?"

Abruptly, there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a voice shouted, "They've blocked the stairs - Reducto! REDUCTO! It doesn't work!"

Orion's heart thundered in his chest; the Order, and possibly Aurors, would soon find a way in. He didn't have time to spare, and he dearly wanted to find out how his father was faring.

Draco intently gazed at him, and then replied firmly, "Yes, I trust you."

"Thanks," murmured Orion, shooting him a warm smile while he handed over the wand he had taken from him.

"Someone better kill Dumbly now!" yelled the lumpy Amycus, his eyes flickering from Draco to Orion. "Draco, Lord Black, either of you do it, or stand aside so one of us-"

At that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open, and there stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, to Draco, and finally, he pinned Orion with his obsidian gaze.

"We've got a problem, Snape," said Alecto, her eyes and wand fixed alike upon Dumbledore, "Draco was about to kill the old codger when -"

Suddenly, somebody else spoke Snape's name, quite softly.

"Severus..."

Orion's gaze fell upon Dumbledore, whose eyes were flickering from him to Snape, as he continued in a weak voice, "The boy took the Unbreakable Vow, not you?"

Snape said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed Draco roughly out of the way, to stand besides Orion. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word, as did Greyback.

"Why?" murmured Dumbledore, and at that point, Orion did feel a twinge of – something; the old wizard's voice was faint, but also laced with pained betrayal, as he stared up at Snape.

Snape turned to narrow his eyes at Orion, and snarled furiously, "Do it. What are you waiting for? Do you want to unnecessarily torture him? Does your hatred for him run so deep?"

"No," said Orion shortly, before he gestured at the Death Eaters. "But we broke into arguments and wasted time." He pierced the wizard with his eyes, and added curtly, "I'll do it, right now."

Snape sharply nodded, and Orion took a step forward, just as Dumbledore gazed up at him with a saddened and vulnerable expression on his face, while the old wizard murmured faintly, "Don't… you can't…"

Orion stared at him, and grimaced. He had never wanted to kill the old man in this way, so unfairly, so ignobly, even Dumbledore deserved better than this. However, his time had run short, and he really didn't have any other alternatives. The Leader of the Light had to be killed. He instantly pulled a cold expression over his features, and made every ounce of fury and hatred bubble inside him, until he knew that his face was etched with harsh lines.

Then, he raised his wand, aiming at Dumbledore's chest, and started to say the words, "Avada Kedavra!"

But, suddenly, the words choked in his throat… He tried again, frantically, but they wouldn't come out… He side-glanced at Snape, his eyes wild and panicky, and the wizard frowned back at him, his black eyes flickering from him to Dumbledore. And abruptly, as Orion choked on the words of the Killing Curse again, unable to utter them, he remembered something… It struck him like a lightning bolt, carrying comprehension and a dawning realization that made his face drain from all color… He remembered but he had never thought it was consequential, he had never even imagined that the Avada Kedavra would have hit him if it hadn't been for Dumbledore… He remembered Dumbledore making the golden statue protect him, in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic… The golden statue had taken the hit of Voldemort's Killing Curse … Curse for which he had jumped to a side to avoid… the Curse hitting the statue instead, but he had jumped away, so he had never thought that the Curse would have hit him… But now, it was clear that it would have. Apparently he hadn't move quickly enough, and the only reason why he hadn't been hit by the Avada Kedavra was because of the statue, because of Dumbledore…

And if he couldn't kill Dumbledore right now, if the words couldn't come out from his mouth, he knew what it meant: he owed the old wizard a Life Debt, because the man had saved his life at the Atrium.

Orion gasped, and stumbled backwards, as he stared at the old man with round eyes. Without Dumbledore's intervention at the Atrium, Voldemort's Killing Curse would have struck him… He really did owe Dumbledore a Life Debt. He couldn't kill him – and the old wizard knew it. 'Don't… you can't…' Had that been a warning?

And at that precise instant, with his mind frantically whirling, he desperately clutched his head and screamed continuously when he was suddenly ravaged by unbearable waves of pain, of pure agony… Distantly, he realized why. It was his own magic attacking him, since it was doubly bounded by opposing forces: the Unbreakable Vow, which forced him to complete the task he had stopped Draco from doing, to kill the old man, and the Life Debt, which was forcing him not to kill Dumbledore. It was pain beyond anything he had ever experienced before, his own magic crushing him… He felt his eyes rolling upwards, sparks of white-hot blazes flashing through his obscured vision, just as he fell backwards... as shouts painfully clashed into his ears, agonizingly reverberating in his mind…


	21. Strange happenings

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Hi, I'm finally updating! Sorry that I took so long but I've been very busy with my studies and loads of exams. And I have to warn you that I'll probably won't be updating as quickly as I did before. Anyway, I want to thank all of you who have reviewed and who're still following this story.

Ah, there're some points I would like to clarify. Orion cannot absorb just any wizard's magic. He certainly can't absorb Dumbledore's magic because it's purely Light. The reason why he could absorb Voldemort's and Gellert's magic, if he killed them, is because their magic is alike. As Grindelwald explained in some chapter, since a wizard's magic returns to its Source once the wizard dies, the same happens with their type of dark magic only that it would go to the nearest focus, and if Orion was there, then he would absorb it since he would be the nearest 'focus', if he wasn't, then the magic would go to the Dark Source. And Voldemort, like Gellert and Orion, has this type of dark magic, only that not in quantities enough to realize it or use it. But, this doesn't mean that Voldemort is much weaker or less powerful than Orion or Gellert; the wizard still has astounding amounts of the 'normal' type of dark magic, not to mention his experience and constant studies of the Dark Arts. Therefore, it shouldn't be surprising that Voldemort knows how to do things which Orion still hasn't had the time to learn or find out how to do, like, for instance, how to break magical contracts. Someone mentioned why Orion simply didn't break the Life Debt and Unbreakable Vow that bound him. He simply can't because he has never found out how to do it, if possible. On the other hand, Voldemort has been studying the Dark Arts for decades, therefore he discovered ways of doing the impossible like breaking magical contracts. You have to remember that my Harry Potter isn't the overnight super-powerful type, everything Orion knows took him lots of efforts and time to accomplish.

Oh, and someone pointed out mistakes in Sebastien's French, and they are right! I will try to edit and correct past chapters if I find the time, and also, she had a valid point when saying that I overdid with his accent, though I merely copied JKR's way of making Fleur Delacour speak. Nevertheless, in the future I won't make Sebastien speak with so many 'z', though I find it funny. *grins sheepishly*

Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter, though I have to confess that it was hard to write since I hadn't written anything in a long while and I felt that my limited skills have diminished. But I hope to improve in the next chappie!

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**Chapter 21**

Scorching waves of blazing agony swept and ravaged through his body, his head throbbed as if it would split apart in any second, his throat felt painfully constricted, every haggard breath he took meant unbearable pain for him, every fiber in his body ached as if he was being stabbed by a thousand daggers… yet, suddenly, he felt a mantle of darkness washing over him, lulling the pain… It was magic coursing through him, gently, assuaging… it was dark magic… so familiar…

"Gellert?" Orion mumbled inaudibly, at the same time that his mouth was pried open, being forced to shallow a thick, slimy liquid.

The potion sluggishly slid down his throat, and he finally felt a modicum of relief. The pain didn't completely fade away, but at least he could think more clearly now, and he opened his eyes with great difficulty, groaning in pain. His foggy vision cleared and he saw Snape and Draco holding him up, while crashing sounds and yells thundered around him.

He realized they were still at the Astronomy Tower; only a few moments must have passed since he lost consciousness, amidst a blaze of agony. Draco was pale-faced, gazing at him with frantic worry, and Snape had a dark frown on his face, his obsidian eyes scrutinizing him, as the wizard forced him to drink another potion... But where was Gellert? Hadn't the old German wizard used his dark magic to help him? He didn't see the man anywhere-

"What's happening to you?" demanded Snape, inspecting him closely with his frown deepening, as he pressed the vial's brim to Orion's lips. "Tell me or I can't help you!"

Orion gazed at him, but he couldn't work his mouth to speak and he couldn't work the muscles in his throat to swallow the potion. More importantly, he wanted to see where his savior was. He glanced around wildly, looking once again for Grindelwald, but he only saw the other Death Eaters crouching while objects and pieces of stone flew and crashed over their heads. He didn't understand what was happening now; his body felt ignited, his magic unleashed, and he didn't see how Gellert could have been there. Potter Manor's blood wards would have made it impossible for Gellert to leave. And he didn't see anyone else there with them. So who had it been? Was Gellert truly there, invisible? Or perhaps some Aux Atrum had come to his aid-

Abruptly, he doubled over and coughed up spurts of blood. His eyes widened in alarm; his body was still being ravaged, and if he did nothing, his magic would continue attacking itself, destroying his inner magical core and leaving him as a squib – forever magicless. Frenziedly alarmed, he pushed his thoughts away from the mysterious person who had helped him minutes ago, and he quickly felt for his magical core; it was still complete, but it was disorderly and it would soon be torn apart and consumed. He had to act that very second, or he would lose all of it.

"Control it…" said a faint voice, the tone urgent and slightly fearful. "You're out of control…"

Orion's gaze rounded on Dumbledore, and then slowly around him once more, and he understood why the old wizard had said that. The Death Eaters still stood in the middle of the place, crouching and protecting themselves with casted shields, as pieces of stone wildly flew around. The ramparts were partly destroyed and blackened, and he saw tendrils of violent magic flaring from his body uncontrollably, lashing out, and destroying anything they touched… Dumbledore must fear that, in the process of being ravaged and rendered into a squib, his magic would explode outwards and kill everyone present; similar to what had happened to an unstable Ariana with her mother.

Quickly, feeling pressing urgency, while his heart weakly pounded in his chest, Orion swiftly encompassed himself in his Necromantic abilities. He felt a veil of detached numbness wrapping his mind, and he felt his magic outwardly calming down, yet it kept agonizingly ravaging his insides. But Grindelwald had made him feel unbearable pain so many times during their lessons -to make him get used to it, to allow his mind to dismiss pain in order to think clearly- that he could now force himself to string two thoughts together. And suddenly, he realized what the only solution was. He would ask it of Snape. Draco was possibly the best one for it, but he rather Snape did it. And he knew that he couldn't tell Snape what he intended to do. The wizard had to mean it.

Orion leaned all his weight on Draco, who instantly wrapped a supporting arm around his waist, and he side-glanced at Snape, and said hoarsely, "Kill the old man."

Snape's eyes slightly widened and his face paled, but Orion forestalled any retort, and he roared urgently, "KILL HIM NOW!"

The wizard's face darkened and Orion could see the hatred bubbling in the black eyes – hatred for him, he knew, since he was ordering Snape to kill Dumbledore, who had been a father-figure for the man. A father-figure for whom Snape still held some form of affection, even if Dumbledore had used him, manipulating his love for Lily Evans during so many years. Nevertheless, Orion knew Snape would do it; he had boxed in the wizard. The man couldn't refuse since Death Eaters were witnesses, since the wizard had to maintain his cover, and also since he wanted to help Draco in his mission. Furthermore, given the oaths they had given to one another so long ago, and given the terms of their allegiance, Snape had to obey him; Snape's loyalty was only towards him. The wizard was exclusively his. He would have liked to say 'Trust me', but he couldn't. Snape had to truly mean the Killing Curse, or his plan wouldn't work.

Just a few seconds had passed since he had recovered his consciousness, but everything seemed to happen in slow motion for Orion. Snape's features had now hardened with hatred, as he aimed his wand at Dumbledore.

"Severus, no… no…" murmured Dumbledore weakly, who was still slumped against the ramparts of the Tower.

Snape's face contorted with revulsion and fury, the scariest expression Orion had ever seen on the wizard, and he spat, "Avada Kedavra!"

A beam of bright green light instantly shot forth, careening towards Dumbledore's chest, and Orion flexed his muscles, groaning in pain, and jumped forwards, while he spread out a hand.

Immediately, his dark magic rushed outwards, forming a thick sheet of black ice right in front of the crumbled old wizard. It exploded when it was struck by the Killing Curse, shards of ice shooting in all directions, just at the same time that he saw comprehension dawning on Snape's face, while the unbearable agony he had been feeling rolled away from him, as if suddenly disappearing into nothingness.

Orion stumbled forward, loudly exhaling in relief, though he still felt the lingering effects of the pain which had ravaged him. Nevertheless, he had saved Dumbledore's life – he had repaid the Life Debt he had owed, and his magic was now lying peacefully inside him, no longer attacking itself. Moreover, he felt his magic washing over him, as if soothingly caressing his magical core, refueling it, and probably undoing any slight harm it could have endured during the seconds in which the Unbreakable Vow and Life Debt had been warring each other.

"I don't owe you anything anymore," he said hoarsely, advancing towards Dumbledore with a large smirk of eager anticipation on his face. "Now, I can truly-"

Suddenly, a commotion of yells erupted behind him.

"This proves it! TRAITOR!" shrieked a high-pitched, crazed voice.

"No – Bellatrix!" roared Snape's snarling voice, meshing with the sound of rushing feet. "Imbecilic witch, you don't understand-"

Startled, Orion turned around, in the same second that a beam of yellow light flashed in his vision. He gasped out when he felt scorching pain exploding in his left shoulder, blazing down his arm. And everything happened in the bat of an eyelash… the hit made him stagger backwards, crashing against a limp body behind him… he saw Snape jumping forth, the wizard's hand frantically shooting out to grasp him, but it missed… and he felt himself toppling over the battlements, along with something else… and he was plunged into darkness, his vision swimming, his aching limbs flailing in mid-air, his exhausted body free-falling, his robes flapping around him… while yells issued from above, becoming distant… Draco's scream, Snape's furious bellows, Bellatrix's deranged laughter… And he kept rushing towards the ground, which was speedily coming closer…

Finally, he realized that he was rushing to his death, and under the greenish light of the Dark Mark, still glowing high above him, he saw in the darkness of the night how Dumbledore was spinning and rotating a few feet away from him, like a rag doll… the wizard soon about to crash against the ground, before he did…. And without thinking about it twice, at last spurring into action, he concentrated as hard as he could, and with all the magic he could tiredly muster he swiftly transformed into Firebreath- his Wyvern animagus form; from scaled dragon-like wings and snout, to menacing eagle claws. Now, he was like a lion-sized dragon, emerald scales shinning under the green light of the Dark Mark; four sturdy, short and scaled legs in his strong body, a barbed and threatening-looking tail swaying from side to side; a long snout with smoke puffing from his round nostrils; grand, clawed wings; and golden basilisk-eyes sparkling with lethal power, on which he lowered his inner eyelids. He felt wild, savage, unbeatable and powerful, and he momentarily relished in it.

The hasty transformation had been successful but very painful as well, due to his injured arm, which cracked and snapped as it became a green-scaled wing. That left wing now hung limply, uselessly, still affected by the non-verbal curse Bellatrix had struck it with… but Orion simply folded it against his scaled body, and he frantically batted his right wing, the uninjured one. His free-fall suddenly halted, but flying with only one wing was tricky and difficult… Nevertheless, as he saw Dumbledore about to hit the ground below, he plunged into a sharp dive… and in instants, his claws clutched the old wizard, grasping an arm and leg… He wildly flapped his right wing, and he flew unsteadily until he carefully dropped Dumbledore on the grass-covered ground. Then, he landed himself, and swiftly transformed back.

Groaning in pain and exhaustion, Orion glanced around and upwards. They were a large distance away from Hogwarts' entrance, and the Astronomy Tower loomed before them. Moreover, he heard shouts and screams coming from inside the school, along with raised voices bellowing spells and curses. He could only hope that Snape was leading Draco safely through the school… the Death Eaters had probably taken the stairs to descend from the Astronomy Tower, and were now battling the Order of the Phoenix… That night had turned into a mess, and he really didn't see how Voldemort had planned for just four Death Eaters to take the school. It was clear the wizard had expected Draco to fail, as Snape and he had assumed all along. But Draco would have done it if he hadn't interfered, and now Draco's failure was his fault.

He shook his head and grumbled under his breath. Also, he now understood Trelawney's warning. Though he would have liked to know beforehand that she had meant it literally; the 'watch your back'. How could he have known that Bellatrix would curse him when he had his back turned to them, when he had been about to kill Dumbledore? One thing was certain, aunt or not, he would have to dispose of that witch soon.

Abruptly, a beam of blue light made his eyes snap to a figure a few feet away from him, and he saw Dumbledore unsteadily standing up as the Elder Wand came shooting into the old wizard's spread hand. Orion scowled as he observed the man, while he grasped his injured and limp left arm. Dumbledore still looked pale and weak, but somehow seemed reenergized, surely due to his pressing circumstances. Nevertheless, he knew that the Tormentis Memoratum potion that Dumbledore had drunk at the cave would soon kill the old wizard; he surmised that about fifteen minutes were left before the one hour period expired.

Hoping that his father was holding his own while battling the Death Eaters, Orion cradled his useless left arm and he approached the old wizard. Now, he only had the Unbreakable Vow to fulfill, even if he wasn't forced by it to utterly kill the old man, as Snape had once explained to him. However, he wanted the last Hallow and would thus duel and kill the old man for it. He was tired of having Dumbledore messing with his plans.

"I want it," said Orion sharply, without any preambles, piercing the old man with his eyes as he whipped out his Phoenix wand. "I'll duel you for it."

"Was that your intention all along?" said Dumbledore calmly, slowly drawing up to his full height. "To kill me for the Elder Wand?" A smile spread over his lips, and he gazed at him with twinkling eyes. "However, you saved me from plunging to my death. It seems it's me who now owes you a Life Debt-"

"Perhaps," interrupted Orion curtly, "or perhaps you would have saved yourself. We won't know until you try to kill me. If you fail and can't, then we'll know that you do indeed owe me a Life Debt."

"I would never kill you," said Dumbledore pleasantly, eyeing him over his half-moon spectacles.

Orion scoffed, and said snidely, "Then you're a fool." He pierced him with narrowed eyes, and snapped crisply, "You said you knew I already had two Hallows, and you implied that you knew about-"

"You want to know how I unveiled so much about your dealings," interjected Dumbledore placidly. "Once I discovered Gellert was still alive everything else made sense. Did he explain to you our shared past?"

"About Ariana, and what happened to your mother and father?" scoffed Orion, before he narrowed his eyes at him. "Yeah, I know everything about that. I also read your Treatise. Everything you discovered was exactly what Salazar Slytherin concluded from his research, yet you've kept the Light side ignorant all this time-"

"And as I imagined, you understand nothing," interrupted Dumbledore calmly, intently gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles. His expression crumbled into a saddened and remorseful one, and he said quietly, "Can you forgive me? I crave your pardon, my boy."

"Forgive you – for what?" spat Orion, glaring at him. "For not telling me how much you really knew? About the true meaning of the prophecy, and about your real plan of sacrificing me? You wanted me to confront Voldemort and die in the process, because you knew that I was a horcrux! And you thought I didn't know myself – I've known for ages!"

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore quietly, piercingly staring at him. "Did you discover it after Voldemort disapparated with you from the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic? Was it then when he discovered it himself? That's why he never truly tried to kill you after that, right, my boy? Is this also the reason why you steadfastly remained by his side, and why you bonded with him?" He shook his head and added in a low, repentant murmur, "If I had only known your intention of becoming his spouse, I would have done much more to help you, my dear boy. However, I'm asking forgiveness for something much graver-"

"What are you talking about?" demanded Orion icily, aiming his wand at him. "I only hold you accountable for your lies and manipulations-"

"The Hallows," muttered Dumbledore. "I ask forgiveness because I didn't have the fortitude to destroy them when I should have. The Hallows – a desperate man's dreams! Real, and dangerous, and a lure for fools. And I was such a fool. But you know, don't you? I have no secrets from you anymore. You know."

"What do I know?" said Orion, eyeing him closely. "Better yet, tell me how much you know and how you found out!"

"Master of death, Orion, master of Death!" burst out Dumbledore, tears sparkling in the blue eyes. "You saw me then, didn't you? You were the glamoured wizard passing off as a muggle thief… You where the one who dueled me at the Gaunt's house, who took the Resurrection Stone… you were there in my weakest moment, when I coveted the Hallow, when I wanted to use it to see Ariana once more… when I couldn't destroy it. And because of my weakness, the Resurrection Stone passed to your hands and you became its master – the Master of Death. That's why I ask for forgiveness, because in that same way I didn't destroy the Invisibility Cloak, the one you stole from my office during your fourth year at Hogwarts."

Orion stared at him with wide eyes, and murmured, "How do you-"

"Who else could have done it, but you?" interrupted Dumbledore gravely, pinning him with his eyes. "And to think you've known about the Hallows since so long… Tell me, when did everything start?"

"I'm not the one who's going to answer questions, old man!" snapped Orion angrily. "When did you realize that I already had the two Hallows in my possession?"

"As I said," replied Dumbledore quietly, "once I felt Gellert was still alive, many things started to make sense. Moreover, I'm sure he told you that he confided in me about his quest for the Hallows. Ever since that tragic summer, I never stopped researching to know all about them… Oh, and the things I found out about… the true meaning of the Tale of the Three Brothers… the Peverells meeting Death on a lonely road…" He gazed at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Indeed, Mordred and Morgana are truly Death for many, especially for you, my boy."

"How…" Orion cleared his throat, and continued less hoarsely and more firmly, "How do you know about them? There isn't a single book or text which indicates that they were behind the creation of the Hallows."

"Throughout history there have been clues about an interfering influence in wizarding kind's lineages," said Dumbledore quietly, piercing him with his eyes. "Moreover, irrefutable proof was handed to me the day Horace Slughorn died." Orion gaped at him with wide eyes, and the old man continued, "Yes, my boy, I'm perfectly aware that Rodolphus Lestrange has been passing off as Horace all this year, possibly with the use of a modified and improved Polyjuice Potion. Was it Severus who created the potion, under Voldemort's orders? I suspect it was so. Though it pains me that he chose to conceal this from me. It seems I have failed Severus as well. Tell me, my boy, did you kill Horace yourself or did you lead Voldemort to the house where Horace was hiding, just hours after I took you there?"

Orion had paled but remained silent, and Dumbledore gazed at him knowingly as he murmured, "I think you handed Horace over to Voldemort. You must have thought that Voldemort had more right to reap his revenge after what Horace had done to Tom Riddle. Does it surprise you that I know what Horace did when he had been an Aux Atrum? There's one thing you didn't consider, my boy; Horace's repentance for his actions and his subsequent determination to redeem himself if he was ever killed. Hours after we left Horace's hiding place, I received a package from Gringotts containing a letter to be submitted to me the instant the Goblins detected that one of their clients had died. Horace bequeathed this task to them, in the event of his death. In his letter to me, Horace explained in detail his work as an Aux Atrum, the goals of this society and who controlled them. It was this last piece of evidence which irrefutably revealed to me that Morgana and Mordred still lingered on this Earth."

"I see," said Orion numbly, while his mind wildly swirled. Slughorn had done that… Incredible. Indeed, he had underestimated just how much Slughorn had turned against the Spirits… To go as far as to reveal the existence and purpose of the Aux Atrum and the Spirits… To go as far as to give such information to the one wizard who could possibly do anything to halt anyone who'd want to become the Vindico…

"No, you don't," interjected Dumbledore, before he suddenly sprung forth and tightly clutched Orion's arm, as he continued firmly, "You must understand what happened so long ago and why I chose to conceal what I had discovered whilst researching to write my Treatise. Yes, my conclusions were correct and I believe you when you say that Salazar Slytherin discovered the same that I did – it's evident to me that you found the Chamber of Secrets, and thus his journals as well. But there's an imperative reason to conceal these truths from the general public – a reason why wizarding superiority over muggles shouldn't be acclaimed and why wizards shouldn't stop mixing their bloodlines with muggles and muggleborns, despite the consequence of weakening the magic of the bloodlines. Don't you understand what would happen if-"

"I understand that you've been living a lie," interrupted Orion in a steely tone of voice, his green eyes glinting with fury, "while purposely keeping such vital information from everyone else. Wizarding kind has the right to know what happens if they cross their bloodlines with muggles and muggleborns! I can only conclude that after what happened to Ariana, you were scared-"

"Scared!" interjected Dumbledore loudly, as close as yelling as Orion had ever heard him, with a stricken and pained expression on his face. "Of course I was scared – of myself! It was my own inaction and belief in my own superiority which caused my sister's death. And it was this belief in wizarding superiority which, above all, drew Gellert and me together. Two clever, arrogant boys with a shared obsession - we had lofty ideals about reshaping the wizarding world, with wizards triumphing over muggles and leading them, as superiors supposedly should do. Gellert... You cannot imagine how his ideas caught me, Orion, inflamed me! Muggles forced into subservience. We wizards triumphant. Gellert and I, the glorious young leaders of the revolution. Oh, I had a few scruples. I assuaged my conscience with empty words. It would all be for the greater good, and any harm done would be repaid a hundredfold in benefits for wizards. Did I know, in my heart of hearts, what Gellert Grindelwald was? What he wanted to become – a Dark Lord? I think I did, but I closed my eyes. If the plans we were making came to fruition, all my dreams would come true. And at the heart of our schemes, the Deathly Hallows! How they fascinated him, how they fascinated both of us! The unbeatable wand, the weapon that would lead us to power! The Resurrection Stone – to him, though I pretended not to know it, it meant an army of Inferi! To me, I confess, it meant the return of my parents, and the lifting of all responsibility from my shoulders. And the Cloak… though I didn't know it at that time, was the other Hallow needed for him to become the Vindico Atrum! Back then, my interest in the Cloak was mainly that it completed the trio, for the legend said that the man who had united all three objects would then be truly Master of the Hallows, which I took to mean 'invincible.' I know now what it truly means – the Vindico Atrum, that which you seek to become, and what Gellert failed to do. At least, I could stop him… though I, nevertheless, lost him in the process…"

The old wizard paused and shook his head, and said vehemently, "And I failed in everything else. Back then, only our dreams mattered, and for them to be realized we wanted the Hallows. To become invincible masters of Death, Grindelwald and Dumbledore! A month of insanity, of cruel dreams, and neglect of the only two members of my family left to me. And then... you know what happened. Reality returned in the form of my rough, unlettered, and infinitely more admirable brother. I did not want to hear the truths he shouted at me. I did not want to hear that I could not set forth with Gellert and seek the Hallows with a traumatized sister in tow, too unstable to control her immeasurable power. The argument became a fight. Ariana lost control, and Gellert... That which I had always sensed in him, though I pretended not to, now sprang into a terrible being... He fiercely countered without any compunction and stupefied her, and I'm ashamed to admit that I casted just as powerfully at her… And Ariana... after all my mother's care and caution... lay dead upon the floor."

Dumbledore gave a little gasp and began to cry in earnest, and Orion ripped his arm away from the old man's grasp, feeling awkwardly uncomfortable but also impatient to know what the wizard's point was.

"Gellert vanished after Ariana's funeral," said Dumbledore quietly, regaining control over himself, "with his plans for seizing power, and his schemes for muggle domination, and his dreams of the Deathly Hallows, dreams in which I had encouraged him and helped him. He disappeared from my life, while I was left to mourn my sister, and learn to live with my guilt and my terrible grief, the price of my shame. Years passed. There were rumors about him. They said he had procured a wand of immense power – and I knew it was the Elder Wand, yet I couldn't bring myself to stop him at that time. I feared that I would be once again entranced by him and his dreams, and swallowed by his promises. But I also feared the truth. You see, I never knew which of us, in that last, horrific fight, had actually cast the last stunning spell that killed my sister... In the meanwhile, I was offered the post of Minister of Magic, not once, but several times. Naturally, I refused. I had learned that I was not to be trusted with power. Nevertheless, I kept track of Gellert and studied as much as I could about the Hallows, realizing that there was much more to them that he hadn't told me about. In the end, even knowing that power was my weakness and temptation, I was forced to stop Gellert when it seemed that he would win the war. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to kill him and I simply imprisoned him in Nurmengard, under powerful wards." He shook his head and muttered, "I did what he wanted me to do. I'm sure he never realized that I knew that he truly wanted to be imprisoned, that he wanted to wait for his successor – for you." He gazed up at Orion, pinning him with a penetrating stare. "I also ask forgiveness for that, because I couldn't bring myself to kill him and when the Elder Wand passed to my hands, I didn't destroy it either. You see, if I had destroyed this wand-" he brought up the wand in his hands "-and if I had destroyed the Cloak before you stole it, and if I had obliterated the Resurrection Stone when we were at the Gaunt house, then all of this madness wouldn't have happened and you would be free to live your own life, instead of taking the same path Gellert did – trying to become the Vindico Atrum."

"Why do you fear someone becoming the Vindico?" said Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "All you do is ask forgiveness for not having destroyed the Hallows. It's clear that you don't want anyone to posses all of them, that you don't want the Vindico to arise. Why? Surely you must know what the Vindico is-"

"The legendary prophet awaited by dark wizards," interjected Dumbledore, gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Yes, my boy, I know about their legends – the Dark's avenger who will raise and cleanse the bloodlines, making them pure once more and who'll return power and glory back to dark wizarding kind. It isn't dark wizarding kind's predominance over the Light which causes unease in me, such things can be stopped. Hasn't Morgana and Mordred told you about the irreversible consequences of it? What the Vindico will cause with his quest?"

"What do you mean?" asked Orion coolly. "The one who becomes the Vindico has to protect the Dark –their customs, magical knowledge and beliefs- fight for them, and make sure that the bloodlines become purer and magically stronger. I see no fault in that. It's merely the Dark trying to survive and win over the Light, it doesn't mean that light wizards will be exterminated-"

"And what about the fate of muggles and muggleborns, my boy?" interrupted Dumbledore gravely.

"That's something to be considered," replied Orion nonchalantly. "I don't know enough to-"

"No, you don't. You know very little," said Dumbledore sternly. "Furthermore, the wars the Vindico will unleash are no laughing matter. You say you have no intention of exterminating light wizards, and I hope muggles and muggleborns neither. But how many will die during the wars, and how much will the Light be weakened if you succeed? How much will my kind lose?"

"I don't know," said Orion impassively. "My priority is making the Dark victorious. Certainly, many will die, even more from the losing side, which will be the Light side, since I'll do my best to attain that outcome. Therefore, yes, many will die, but many others will be saved as well, those whom I'll protect – I know that much."

"So it's all a matter of you protecting those you care about, and your own kind," said Dumbledore curtly, "without worrying about sparing those who you misguidedly consider your enemies – light wizards. I see. You have such a limited and bigoted scope of matters, my boy-"

"You accuse me of being a bigot?" scoffed Orion. "Please, don't make me laugh." He narrowed his eyes at him, and said crisply, "You did nothing to help Tom Riddle because he was a dark wizard, descendant from Salazar Slytherin himself. Don't accuse me of being something you're the epitome of."

Dumbledore intently gazed at him over his half-moon spectacles, and said in a low, quiet voice, "Tell me, my boy, how far along are you in your transformation? Do you hear a voice in your dreams?"

"A voice?" gasped out Orion, his eyes widening. He clamped his mouth shut, and demanded through gritted teeth, "What do you mean 'transformation'? And what do you know about my visions-"

"Visions, you call them?" interjected Dumbledore, his expression turning sad and grieved. "So you have them already? And what does the voice say, my boy?"

Orion frowned at him. "It says that-"

Abruptly, a wail-like sound reverberated over the grounds and he snapped his head around, his eyes wide when he saw the thick, stone was of Hogwarts trembling and shaking. Even over the shriek-like wail, he heard Dumbledore muttering, "Ah, it's out of my grasp…What will you do with it, I wonder..."

"What are you talking about?" snapped Orion bewildered. "What's happening at the school?"

In a flash, with unexpected swiftness and strength, Dumbledore tightly clutched Orion's arm and said urgently, "Tell me what the voice says and perhaps I can still save you, my boy."

"It says many incoherent things," bit out Orion, with a deep frown on his face. His eyes unwittingly widened, and he added fervently, "But it often repeats one phrase; that she wants to consume me-"

"No," breathed out Dumbledore, his face stricken, showing a hint of horror, while he tightening his grasp on Orion's arm with an urgent grip. "It will mean your end - you cannot let it happen!"

"You know who she is!" burst out Orion startled, his voice frantic and demanding. "You must tell me. I must know! I need to know who is calling, who wants me-"

"Come with me," interrupted Dumbledore pressingly. "Please, my child, come with me and I'll explain everything to you. I'll help you. We'll find a solution together."

Orion deeply frowned at him, and shook his arm to break free, though unsuccessfully. "No!"

"You must come with me!" repeated Dumbledore quickly, his voice grave but also holding a hint of alarm and pleading beseech. "Please, my boy, come with me. I failed before with Gellert, but I will not fail with you. I can help you-"

"I don't need help – and least of all yours!" yelled Orion angrily, finally ripping his arm from the old wizard's grasp and instantly aiming his wand at him. "Enough of this! I want the Elder Wand and nothing you've said has changed my mind."

"You haven't changed your mind because there are many things you're unaware of," said Dumbledore firmly. "I'll only have the time to tell you if you came with me. Leave Voldemort's side. Even if you're his spouse we'll find a solution-"

"He has nothing to do with this matter," snapped Orion impatiently. "Just duel with me or I will simply kill you and-"

"Of course Voldemort has everything to do with this matter," interrupted Dumbledore hastily, with a weak smile on his face. "You wish to spare him, but if you want to become the Vindico you'll be forced to kill him. Didn't I tell you, my boy, that Love would save you? And indeed, you love him, don't you? Then stop attempting to become the Vindico and we can work together in order to spare Voldemort and-"

Orion let out a sharp, mirthless bark of laughter. "Spare Voldemort? That's rich, coming from you! All this time you've wanted nothing else but cast us against each other, so that I die and the horcrux within me gets destroyed, only for you to later kill Voldemort yourself after all the other horcruxes are gone as well!"

"If Voldemort is required to be left alone and alive, in order for you to not become the Vindico," said Dumbledore gravely, "then you'll have it. I will no longer attempt to see him gone-"

"You aren't offering me a solution!" yelled Orion angrily. "I don't need your help because I have my own plans with which I won't have to kill Voldemort in order to succeed. Because I won't kill him – ever! But even if you offered something else I required or needed, I cannot stop it!" He rubbed his forehead, and added frenziedly, "Don't you understand it, old man? It happened to Gellert as well! I feel it inside me – the need, the urge, the pull… My own dark magic spurs me to go on! The voice, it never stops… so compelling, so enticing… " He shook his head, and said firmly, piercing the old wizard with his eyes, "I WANT to become the Vindico. I won't stop!"

"You're going to wage an endless war upon our world," said Dumbledore, pinning him with a fierce and stern gaze. "Don't allow us to sink into a devastating war which could decimate us. You're pitching towards your own destruction - just like Gellert was!"

"That won't happen. I will manage, I always have! Now duel with me!" snapped Orion, before he swiftly aimed his wand and roared, "Absentia respirae!"

In the bat of an eyelash, something flashed before his vision like a blur and he saw the choking dark curse he had casted being intercepted by a tree which had suddenly sprung from its roots to protect Dumbledore. The tree seemed alive, with its branches vigorously swaying and its roots wriggling like toes. And Orion knew that the old wizard had just used his transanimation abilities, like Grindelwald had predicted. Yet, the old man didn't do anything to counter-attack.

Seething with anger, knowing that the duel had to be short and to the point, Orion swiftly crouched, pain shooting along his injured and limp left arm, and he quickly pressed a palm on the ground. He instantly felt his dark magic crackling through his fingertips and he unleashed it just like Grindelwald had taught him to; his unique dark magic shifting into the power to shift and crack earth. Ripples of dark waves sunk into the ground and with a deafening, reverberating sound, the ground trembled and shook under him, a small indenture quickly running forth and widening as it produced a large wedge on the ground, as if a huge knife was tearing the earth open, rock and soil crumbling.

He saw the animated tree tumbling to a side, while Dumbledore, behind it, stumbled back, trying to regain his balance. Just when the old man was forced to launch himself to a side, as the crack on the ground tore into a pitch-like abyss under the wizard's feet, Orion aimed his wand at him, swiftly making his Necromantic abilities surge in him, and he bellowed, "Malsana maleficio!"

Just how it once had happened to Grindelwald, the curse struck Dumbledore as the wizard shifted to a side. It hit the old man's right elbow, quickly running to the hand. Orion watched with triumph as Dumbledore's flesh rotted and decomposed, leaving a blackened and deadened right forearm and hand. And when the man's grasp on the Elder Wand slackened, the wand falling to the cracked ground, he quickly yelled, "Accio Wa-"

A strepitous bang swallowed his words, and Orion snapped his head to a side, startled, and saw the oak, front doors of Hogwarts blasting open. Running people instantly poured from the school's entrance, casting curses over their shoulders. Under the green light of the Dark Mark still glowing above the school, he could distinguish the form of the Carrow siblings running at the forefront towards the school's gates, to pass the wards, with Bellatrix halting now and then to swirl around and battle the wizards who were chasing them. He distinguished about five people wearing red Auror robes, though he couldn't see their faces, and more people, certainly Order members, also casted spells towards the fleeing Death Eaters. He didn't see Greyback's large form anywhere, but what made his heart jump to his throat was Snape speedily running, dragging a disheveled Draco after him, with a bunch of wizards giving them chase.

"I cannot let you have it," said a calm voice, and Orion's worried gaze instantly snapped to glance at Dumbledore.

He gritted his teeth when he saw that the old wizard was holding up the Elder Wand in his left hand, seeming utterly unconcerned about his blackened right arm and hand, which the old man would never be able to use again.

"The Deathly Hallows must never be reunited, my boy," said Dumbledore quietly, gazing at him with a sad yet stern expression on his face. "I hope I'll still have a chance to make you realize the mistake you're committing by wanting to become the Vindico. There's much you don't know. Alas, I'll have to leave that conversation for some other time."

Orion stared at him disbelievingly. Where did the old coot believe he was going? Their duel hadn't ended and the old man was in no condition to flee. Furthermore, not even Dumbledore could apparate from there; the school's ancient wards wouldn't allow it, not even for the Headmaster. Moreover, the potion Dumbledore had drunk at the cave must be about to snuff out the old man's life in any second. Dumbledore didn't give any signs of it, but he knew that the old man must have been agonizing with pain during all that time.

Hearing the bellows of screams and curses resounding through the grounds, he realized that he had to help Snape and Draco who seemed overwhelmed by Auror and Order forces. And for that, he first needed to get rid of Dumbledore once and for all, even if done ignobly, since he didn't have the time for a fair and challenging duel, much to his disappointment.

Clenching his jaw, he pointed his wand at the old wizard in the bat of an eyelash, and he roared, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Still crouching on the ground, and panting with pained exhaustion, Orion observed as the bright green beam of light careened towards Dumbledore, with nothing being brought up to block its path. The green light illuminated the old wizard's face, the man blue eyes slightly widening, seemingly startled… Abruptly, Orion gasped when he had to shield his vision from a burst of a fiery explosion of red… And it happened so quickly that he didn't have time to react or really comprehend what was occurring… Dumbledore had slapped together, over his head, his left hand with his withered and blackened right hand, amidst a ball of fire which grew outwards into the shape of large, blazing bird… And fleetingly, through the fiery blaze, he saw the green beam of the Killing Curse inches away from the old man's chest… Suddenly, ripples of some force shot outwards and Orion was blasted through the air, painfully groaning when he crashed against a mould of cracked rock.

He blinked dazedly, with the yells from Death Eaters and from those giving them chase reverberating in his ears. And he finally stood up unsteadily, to gaze around with wide eyes. Dumbledore was gone. The old man had utterly disappeared.

Orion let out a scream of frustration while his mind frantically reviewed what had happened. It was clear that the man had called forth Fawkes, and that the Phoenix had taken them away in a blazing explosion of fire… something he hadn't known that such creatures could do, since at Durmstrang they rarely studied Light creatures' abilities. But that wasn't what concerned him the most. Had the Killing Curse struck Dumbledore? He couldn't make it out clearly from what he remembered. Fawkes had appeared just when the curse was about to strike the old man's chest. So, had it hit Dumbledore? Was the man dead? Even if he was, the wizard had the Elder Wand with him at that time, so the Hallow was out of his reach and presently wherever Fawkes had taken Dumbledore. But was Dumbledore alive? Had the Killing Curse struck him? And if not, at present, wherever the old man was, did he drink Fawkes' tears soon enough before the Tormentis Memoratum potion killed him, before the few seconds he had left expired?

He closed his eyes and fiercely rubbed his forehead, feeling intensely frustrated and agitated, as he tried to clear his thoughts. Whether the old man was alive or not, what mattered was that he had had the Elder Wand almost in his grasp. And now, he didn't have a clue of where it could be. He had been so close… and he had just lost the last Hallow he needed… He had learned much from talking with Dumbledore, but he had lost valuable time as well… He should have simply killed the man immediately, instead of looking for answers… Now, Merlin knew how he would find the Elder Wand again…

Orion heavily sighed and snapped his eyes open. Nevertheless, he had much to do. Moreover, he felt a strange sense of ease, as if a great pressure had just been lifted from his body. He fleetingly realized that it meant that he had fulfilled the Unbreakable Vow he had taken, by having shot the killing curse at Dumbledore and striking –almost or apparently. What was left to discover was if the old man had survived, with the help of Fawkes, or not.

When a bellow reverberated through the grounds, he swiftly pushed all thoughts to a side, quickly casted a standard healing spell on his limp left arm – since he couldn't really heal it until he discovered what non-verbal spell Bellatrix had used– and he instantly swirled around and speedily ran towards the group of wizards tumultuously battling each other.

He flew across the dark grounds, towards the three figures racing across the lawn, heading for the gates beyond which they could disapparate - by the looks of them, it was Snape and Draco, with Bellatrix aiding them as a group of Aurors and Order members chased after them. Surprisingly, it seemed that Bellatrix truly wanted to help Draco escape alive and undamaged. Alecto and Amycus Carrow had apparently already disapparated, and he supposed that Greyback had as well, since he didn't catch sight of him anywhere.

The cold night air ripped at Orion's lungs as he tore after them, while his left arm throbbed with pain; he saw a flash of light in the distance that momentarily silhouetted the Aurors - his quarry. He did not know what it was but continued to run, not yet near enough to get a good aim with a curse. Another flash, shouts, retaliatory jets of light, and Orion saw that the oaf, Hagrid, had emerged from his cabin, which was alight with fire, and was trying to stop the Death Eaters escaping.

"Run, Draco!" he heard Snape shouting, just as the wizard turned around to shoot a curse at Hagrid.

The half-giant stumbled backwards but seemed unharmed, and Orion slightly frowned, wondering why Snape wasn't truly trying to dispatch him. Nevertheless, he swiftly took aim and bellowed, "Crucio!"

His curse struck, and Hagrid keeled over with a scream. Abruptly, while maintaining the curse, his wrist was gripped in an iron-clad clutch, and he was confronted with Snape's hardened face.

"Did you kill Dumbledore?" demanded Snape sharply.

"I… I don't know," replied Orion, clenching his jaw. "I simply don't know."

Snape darkly frowned at him, before he snarled, "Then don't kill or seriously harm any light wizards."

"What?!" gasped out Orion. "Of course I will. There are Aurors-"

"Think, boy!" spat Snape angrily. "The Dark Lord will not be pleased by this outcome. You might find yourself in need of alternative allies. Leave the door open. After this, I cannot go back to the Order, yet, they might be useful to you-"

A loud scream interrupted the wizard, and they turned around as one, seeing Draco surrounded by two Aurors, his wand shooting into the air, while the young wizard crumbled to the ground. In a flash, Orion and Snape tore towards them. Orion saw Bellatrix fiercely battling with three Order members, close by, though she seemed to be holding very well by herself, while she cackled crazedly.

The moment they got a few paces away from the Aurors, Snape yelled a stunning spell, which took one of them by surprise. And Orion was about to viciously curse the other when he saw the Auror's young and handsome face, the wavy sandy hair, and the grey eyes widening when their gazes locked.

"Cedric!" blurted Orion, taken aback.

"What – you're helping them?!" choked out Cedric, staring at him. An expression of confusion and betrayal spread over his handsome features. "They are Death Eaters, Orion! What are you doing-"

"That's Draco's wand?" interrupted Orion with a stony face, pulling himself together, while he glanced at the wand that the young Auror was firmly grasping with his left hand.

"It's Malfoy's, yes," replied Cedric sharply, his eyes flickering from Orion to Snape, his posture tense and alert. "What's the meaning of this?! They are-"

"I know what they are," interjected Orion curtly, as he decided that Snape actually had a good point. He wouldn't mind killing the others, but the wizard before him was an exception. Furthermore, he could be useful in the future as well, given how his plans had just been messily muddled with after the disastrous events of that night. "I don't want to hurt you, Cedric. We are friends, right?" He pierced the young wizard with his eyes, and added sternly, "And you owe me, Ced. I saved you from Bellatrix during the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament, remember?"

"I do," said Cedric, with a deep frown on his face, his voice low and reluctant. "It's a debt of honor. You want me to repay you, now? How?" His jaw clenched, and he hissed out, "But I don't understand what you're doing with them!"

"Let them go and give me Draco's wand," said Orion hastily, ignoring the young wizard's question. "And I'll consider the debt fulfilled." He side-glanced, seeing more Order members rushing towards them, and added urgently, "And you have to do it now!"

"I don't understand-"

"You don't need to understand anything at present!" snapped Orion impatiently. "Give me the wand and don't try to forestall or attack them, or I'll have no choice but to hurt you."

Cedric's shoulders stiffened and he tossed the wand towards Orion, his expression hard and stern. "I want to believe the best of you, but you're making it impossible, Orion. Nevertheless, a debt is a debt. And I'll expect an explanation soon of why you're helping Death Eaters! You're the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"That I am," said Orion dismissively, catching the wand in mid-air and swiftly aiming his at Cedric. "Stupefy! Incarcerous!"

The young Auror plopped to the ground, unconscious and bounded, looking as if he had been suddenly attacked, just as intended, and Orion swiftly turned around. Snape was clutching Draco by the scruff of the boy's robes, making him stand up, though Draco didn't look well at all. He had several deep gushes along his robed torso, his face was pale and bloodied with lacerations, his eyes were scrunched, seemingly in pain, and his breathing was haggard and slow.

"Take it," snapped Orion hastily, handing Draco's wand to Snape. "Run and dissaparate as soon as you cross the gate!"

"What are you going to do?" demanded Snape, narrowing his eyes at him. "You must come with us as well, the Aurors will show no mercy if they catch you. They've surely seen you helping us, by now."

"I can deal with them. I'll help Bella escape, stop the others from chasing you, and then I must go fetch my trunk," replied Orion quickly. "I hadn't expected to have so little time or that everything would end up like this. But I can't leave my trunk behind. Even though I doubt anyone will be able to bring down the wards I casted on it, I have everything in there." He stared at him, and added pointedly, alluding to the Invisibility Cloak Hallow, his parsel-books and Cadmus' journal, "Everything, Severus. And I might not have another chance to get inside Hogwarts. Not after what I've done tonight-"

"STOP THEM!" bellowed a voice, just as a set of spells flashed over their heads.

Orion instantly pushed Snape and Draco forward, and spat, "Run! I'll portkey to Riddle Manor as soon as I can!"

In the bat of an eyelash, Snape hurtled forward, quickly dragging an injured and weakened Draco with him, who seemed too dazed to know exactly what was going on, and Orion spun around and rushed towards Bellatrix. The witch had taken down one of the Aurors, but she was still dueling with the other two, just as viciously as before. He had half a mind to leave her there, but he knew that nothing good would come if she was apprehended. Moreover, to his surprise, he saw 'Horace Slughorn' rushing to her aid. Obviously, it was Rodolphus Lestrange under the Polyjuice Potion, as usual. But he wondered why the man had decided to reveal, by assisting her, that he wasn't Slughorn at all. Rodolphus had no way of knowing that Dumbledore had known about him all along.

Regardless, he recognized one of the Aurors left, and he gritted his teeth as hatred and fury swelled inside him. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the one who had attacked Lezander at the Death Chamber and who had made Lezander jump in to save him, thus causing him to plunge into the Veil. Nevertheless, despite his fierce desire to kill the man straight away, he was going to follow Snape's advice. Merlin knew what the consequences of that night would be, in regards to his 'alliance' with Voldemort.

Shacklebolt was fighting with Bellatrix, with his back turned towards him, so it was with ease that Orion aimed at the Auror's back and yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!"

The Auror slammed against the ground, petrified, and 'Slughorn' didn't even blink before he lunged forwards, shooting the Killing Curse at the other Auror left. Without another hitch of breath, Orion yanked Bellatrix by her arm, pulling her away and forcing her to run with him towards the gates, just as he saw Snape and Draco vanishing in an apparition.

"Rush to the gates," said Orion hastily, between heavy pants as he run with her, with Rodolphus at their side. "Ruddy, you have to leave as well, Dumbledore knows who you really are-"

"I know, my Lord Black," interjected Rodolphus, frowning at him, before he casted a curse over his shoulder at the incoming group of wizards who were chasing them at some distance.

Orion blinked at him, befuddled, wondering when and how the wizard had realized it, but didn't press the matter and he continued to clutch Bellatrix's arm, pulling her faster into their sprint. "Right. So get beyond the school wards and apparate while I cover your back-"

"We don't need your help!" shrieked Bellatrix furiously, violently breaking free from his grasp though she kept on running.

"Fine," spat Orion, "but you're the only ones left and without my assistance you'll be overwhelmed by the Aurors. They have all already left, the Carrows, Greyback, and-"

"Greyback never left!" said the witch, letting out a cackling chortle.

Orion halted in his tracks, his face paling. "What do you mean? He's still in the school? You left him there?!"

"Who cares about the half-breed!" yelled Bellatrix over her shoulder, her voice contemptuous and sneering, without halting her dash towards the gates as she crouched when a beam of light careened over her head. "He disappeared during the fray, shame it wasn't you, filthy half-blood!" She let out a vicious cackle. "But My Lord will certainly dispatch you soon!"

And with that, she kept running into the darkness created by the night's shadows casted along the grounds, and Orion saw her nearing the gates.

"Don't pay attention to her words," said Rodolphus hastily, who had remained by his side. "Are you sure you don't require help?"

"No, thanks," said Orion quickly. "Go with her!"

The wizard nodded, still looking like Slughorn and thus making his protruding belly jiggle, and he ran after Bellatrix. However, a large volley of spells and curses shot forwards, towards the pair, and Orion spun around and instantly swirled his wand in the air in a hasty pattern. A shield of glowing magic erupted forth and the spells crashed into it, the beams disappearing in puffs of blue light. A group of Aurors and Order members were dashing towards him, and he could even distinguish some of their faces in the distance. Quickly, Orion aimed his wand at himself and muttered the parsel-invisibility spell. At last, he crouched, and once again pressed his palm on the ground, making his unique dark magic transform and suffuse into the earth. In a few instants, the ground quaked and grumbled, and it erupted under the Aurors' and Order members' feet, shaking as spikes of earth and rock soared upwards. The wizards jumped, rolled and tumbled, some shouting, startled, while some of them managed to wildly shoot spells towards wherever they could.

Orion glanced over his shoulder, and when he saw that Bellatrix and Rodolphus were gone, he fisted his hand and made his dark magic return safely into him, halting the cracking and shifting of the grounds. The couple had surely managed to disapparate just beyond the school's boundaries, and now he had other tasks on his hands. Still under his parsel-invisibility spell, he swiftly casted a muting charm over his feet, and proceeded to slowly walk towards the group to wizards, whom he had to cross by in order to reach Hogwart's entrance. Some of them were helping those who had crashed against hard mounds of rock and soil, but what captured his attention the most was that Shacklebot and Cedric were with them, surely the others had cancelled the spells on them as they gave chase to Bellatrix. Furthermore, as he surreptitiously reached them, their conversation reached his ears and he distinguished Alastor Moody in their midst, with his roving eye wildly spinning in his socket.

"Where is he? He vanished – he disapparated?" demanded one of the Aurors, with wand aimed forward with a luminous charm. "Did the boy do this?"

"Impossible! Must have been You-Know-Who…"

"He wasn't here tonight! It must have been the Black boy…"

"Cracking the earth?! Of course not, it was You-Know-Who, I tell you-"

"It was the Black whelp, don't underestimate him," said a gruff voice, and Orion slightly halted to side-glance at who had spoken, seeing that it was Moody. "He has switches sides, if he ever was on our side, which I doubt."

"Obviously!" spat an Auror, the man's face incensed. "We all saw him helping the Death Eaters - despicable! The Minister will want to hear about this betrayal at once. The Boy-Who-Lived helping You-Know-Who's minions, when the boy's mother was killed by You-Know-Who himself! Appalling-"

"Do you see him, Alastor?" interrupted a deep voice, and Orion silently glanced up again, to see that it was Shacklebolt who was speaking. "Is he still at the grounds, disillusioned, perhaps?"

"I don't see him," replied Moody gruffly, his magical eye spinning around wildly. "He's not disillusioned, or I would see through the charm at once-"

"Then he disapparated, like the rest of them… But I cannot believe that he betrayed the Light. Sirius Black is on our side," interjected a lumpy wizard with a perplexed expression on his face, wearing informal robes, and thus evidently not an Auror. "Surely the boy wouldn't go against his own father-"

"Sirius Black! And you believe he's truly a loyal Order Member?!"

"Dumbledore himself accepted him-"

"Constant vigilance!" barked Moody. "That's what I always say. Sirius Black cannot be trusted. The man's resurrection alone is very suspicious, certainly only a very dark ritual or artifact could have made it possible, and the boy did it, as sure as my name is Alastor! The boy is an irredeemable dark wizard, no doubt about that. He's dangerous! And the boy's father cannot be trusted, Dumbledore was too indulgent. We should seize Black now that we can, he's still inside tending to-"

"We cannot charge Sirius Black with anything," interjected Shacklebolt. "He received the Kiss. He completed his sentence. On what grounds could we apprehend him? He cannot be sentenced again for the same crimes and now we have reason to believe that he was innocent all along, and the man didn't even have a trial. To convict him again with no valid reason or evidence would be unlawful. Furthermore, Dumbledore believes in him-"

"Dumbledore is too good-hearted, Kingsley," snapped Moody gruffly, his eye spinning madly in every direction. "I say we capture Black and interrogate him again. And the boy must be found and brought to justice! I saw him myself through Hogwarts' walls– he killed Dumbledore while I was fighting Greyback inside-"

Disbelieving or demanding shouts and cries erupted, just as Orion cautiously made his way through them, careful not to touch anyone or his presence would be revealed. Most of them were already recovered, and seemingly had nothing better to do than discuss matters before they returned to the school or went back to the Ministry, in the Aurors' case. Nevertheless, he paid attention to their discussion while he mutely and invisibly trudged around them.

"Dumbledore killed!" croaked out a lumpy wizard, his face looking tremulous and pale, his eyes watery. "I don't believe it-"

"Then where is he now, Elphias?" said Moody gruffly. "Surely Dumbledore wouldn't leave at a time like this, with the school in such a havoc and the students frightened! I saw the Black boy casting the Killing Curse, and then Dumbledore disappeared, pulled away by Fawkes. If he hasn't returned, then Dumbledore is surely dead and the Black boy killed him!"

"Dumbledore cannot be dead! No mere boy could kill a wizard like him-"

"But the Boy-Who-Lived isn't a mere boy, is he?" said a wizard, his voice slightly shaky and revulsed. "If the rumors are true, he used Necromancy to resurrect his father and we all know what ruthless and despicable creatures Necromancers are! I thank Merlin that they have been extinguished! I think the Black boy must be one of the few left with such horrible abilities-"

"Then it is certain, the Boy-Who-Lived has betrayed us? He works for You-Know-Who?" interrupted a witch, with a stern expression on her face, who was wearing the deep red Auror robes. "And he killed Dumbledore?"

"We don't know that," said Shacklebolt, his voice deep and curt. "Dumbledore could have his reasons for not coming back-"

"Nonsense, Kingsley," barked Moody. "Diggory! You were out here at that time, weren't you? Tell us what you saw, boy!"

"I was dueling Draco Malfoy," replied Cedric quietly. "I think I had my back turned to them. I certainly didn't know that Orion was fighting Dumbledore. I didn't see them when I came out chasing Malfoy and Snape-"

"Snape, another traitor! I cannot be more disgusted-"

The rest of their argument dimmed away as Orion finally made his way through them and reached Hogwarts' entrance. His mind was a messy havoc of wild thoughts, and he could only discern that his father was in no immediate or real danger. He had to reluctantly grant to Shacklebolt that the Auror and Order member was honest and fair. Not that the Auror wasn't still his enemy, of course. Nevertheless, indeed, Sirius couldn't be apprehended. And if they tried to do so, going against the law as Moody eagerly suggested, then he would simply break him free before they could tightened their clutches around his father. Since, despite Sirius' precarious situation, he needed a spy inside the Order now that Snape's true loyalties were known.

It was with a sense of relief, given that the group of arguing Aurors and Orders members hadn't discovered him, that Orion finally crossed through the oak front doors which had been blasted open. Once inside Hogwarts, still under his invisibility spell, he saw that there were smears of blood on the flagstones, and several terrified students, huddled against the walls and some cowering with their arms over their faces, were being rounded up and escorted by teachers. He saw Professor McGonagall directing the proceedings, grim faced, disheveled and stern as ever, though her face revealed some worry – surely the old witch wondered about Dumbledore's absence. Indeed, he wondered himself, though he was clever enough not to cry 'victory' too soon, not before having the old man's dead corpse as evidence of his death.

As he carefully passed the teachers bustling around, he saw Madam Pomfrey attending a wizard, indubitably an Order member, who seemed badly injured. But it was when he saw another pale-faced wizard, this one young, that he had to swallow a gasp. It was Bill Weasley, he remembered him well from the time that Fleur Delacour had introduced the curse-breaker to him as her fiancé. The wizard's face had three gaping wounds wedging along his right cheek, with copious blood spurting from them. Bill Weasley's face was still recognizable and handsome, but those wounds seemed to have been inflicted by claws and didn't appear to be healing easily or anytime soon, since the wizard was drowning down several vials – surely healing potions supplied by Madam Pomfrey. Nevertheless, to his relief, he saw his father attending the older Weasley boy, casting over and over again healing spells which didn't have any effect.

He observed them silently for a minute, ascertaining that his father looked frayed, tired, and disheveled, but without any serious injuries. Then, he proceeded forth, knowing that he couldn't dawdled for long. He had to take his trunk and portkey as soon as possible to Riddle Manor. Voldemort was surely holding a gathering after that day's 'mission' and punishment would certainly be dished out. He clearly remembered Trelawney's words regarding Draco's safety. Furthermore, he clearly remembered his visions. He had confidence that Snape would protect Draco from Voldemort's fury, before he arrived. But he didn't want to linger long, just in case.

He passed under the giant Gryffindor hourglass which had apparently been hit by a curse, since the rubies within were falling, with a loud rattle, onto the flagstones below. And once he was careful in not steeping on any of them, lest he made some noise, he rushed with all his might along the hallway. He took staircases three steps at a time, he dashed along corridors, and he finally hurtled around a corner to reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. Abruptly, as he turned around the corner, he clashed against something and a startled yell echoed.

Orion blinked when he found himself on top of a waif-like girl, whose large and misty eyes blinked up at him, before she started calmly swatting her hand in the air.

"Ouch – that was my eye, Luna!" grumbled Orion, as he rolled to a side, pressing a hand against his poked and aching eye.

"Orion, is that you?" she said happily, calmly standing up and dusting off her school robes, with her wand's tip peering from her pale, blond hair, secured, as usual, behind her right ear.

"You've just been crushed by an invisible person and you didn't even grasp your wand to defend yourself," muttered Orion under his breath, as he stood up as well. "Does this happen to you on a daily basis?"

"No," replied Luna musingly, gazing contemplatively into vacant space.

Orion swallowed a snort and swiftly aimed his wand at himself, to cancel his invisibility. "What are you doing here, in front of Gryffindor's entrance?"

"Waiting for you, of course," said Luna airily, blinking up at him. "We were told that we weren't allowed to leave our common room, but I heard that the Dark Mark had been casted and I realized you had to be somehow involved, so I left Ravenclaw's Tower in search for you." She gazed at him with her large and misty eyes, and added serenely, "I saw people who looked like Death Eaters fighting the professors and some Aurors downstairs, before I finally made it here-"

"You went prancing around the school at a time like this?" snapped Orion with concern, clutching her shoulder. "Just to look for me? Are you mad, Luna?! You could have been killed!"

"I can hold my own," she said in her dreamy voice.

Orion gazed at her skeptically. "Yeah, well, regardless, you shouldn't have done such a foolish thing-"

"What's happening?" interjected Luna calmly, peering up at him. "I saw Professor Snape helping the Death Eaters and Malfoy was with him. Has this been an attack?"

"Yes, but I don't have time to explain," said Orion hastily. "Look, you have to return to your common room and don't leave until the teachers tell you it's allowed. And don't tell anyone that you've seen me. I have to fetch my trunk and get out as soon as I can-"

"You're leaving the school," stated Luna, boring her misty eyes into his. "And you're not coming back."

"I'm not," said Orion quickly. "I was involved in today's attack and the Order and Aurors know it. They saw me. I cannot come back. I'm sure the Ministry will post some Aurors at Hogwarts, in the hope that I'll be foolish enough to return, and they'll surely cart me off to Azkaban if they manage to get a hold of me. Or they'll at least keep me imprisoned somewhere else to interrogate me-"

"If you're leaving so am I," interrupted Luna airily. "You're my only friend. And you promised you would take me to that place where I could learn how to-"

"I cannot take you to the Guild now!" whispered Orion sharply. "And you cannot come with me." He lowered his voice, and said softly, "I appreciate it, really, but you have to stay at Hogwarts and complete your education. That was the deal. Furthermore, I'll need a good friend at the school, someone who can tell me what's going on during my absence. And perhaps, someday I'll need your inside-help. Would you do that, for me?"

"You'll need my help?" said Luna, her eyes widening happily. "Alright. Then I'll stay, and I'll wait for you."

Orion warmly smiled at her, and quickly pecked her forehead. "Thanks, Luna. Now you have to get back to your common room-"

Suddenly, the portrait swung open, and through the hole a group of four Gryffindors stumbled out, with raised wands, looking tense and wary.

"We heard voices, what – YOU!" spluttered Ron, the boy's freckled face instantly turning red with anger.

Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were on the boy's right side, and Hermione on the left, who stared at Orion with wide eyes, before a frown spread on her face, her gaze turning scrutinizing and gauging.

"We know there has been a Death Eater attack," said Hermione quietly, intently piercing him with her brown eyes. "We were involved in the fight before we returned to the common room. Where were you, Orion? Did you have anything-"

"Anything to do with what has happened?" interjected Orion coolly, surreptitiously taking a hold of his wand. He arched an eyebrow. "What if I have?"

"I knew it!" spat Ron heatedly, his face swelling with fury as he aimed his wand at him. "I knew all along that you had become a Death Eater. I told you, Mione-"

"Is it true?" interrupted Hermione, her gaze never leaving Orion's face, though her voice wavered slightly with a hint of grief and hurt betrayal. "Are you one of them?"

"Not quite… But you've known all along that I'm a dark wizard," said Orion nonchalantly. "However, that doesn't mean I want to hurt you. So just step aside and let me in-"

"You aren't going anywhere!" burst out Ron, his chest puffing in anger as he aimed his wand at him. "I'm going to fight you - yeah! And we're taking you to the Aurors!"

"We cannot let ye in if ye're one of them, mate," interjected Seamus firmly, while Dean, by his side, nodded while tensing in wary alert.

Orion briefly regarded them in silence, before he let out a sneering chuckle. "You're going to stop me? A bunch of pathetic, little Gryffindors? Please, do try. It will vastly amuse me-"

"We're four against one, we'll take you down," spat Ron, his face turning bright red with fury and insulted pride. "Stupef-"

"NO, RON!" yelled Hermione, instantly clutching the boy's arm and stepping in between them. "He's much more powerful than us, you know that!" She pierced Orion with her eyes, and said vehemently, "We don't want to fight. Nothing will be solved that way. But we cannot let you in and you should come with us and explain matters to the Aur-" Suddenly, she clamped her mouth shut, and something flashed in her eyes, before she slightly frowned and said quietly, turning to her companions, "You should go fetch the Aurors and I'll make him wait here."

Ron exploded into an argument with her, refusing to leave her alone, though Orion barely paid attention while Dean and Seamus swiftly ran down the stairs, seemingly going in search of any adult who would help them. Meanwhile, Orion was regarding Hermione with a deep frown on his face. He had caught sight of what had flashed in her eyes, though it seemed that he had been the only one. Something had glowed red in her black pupils, before it vanished in the next second: an ancient runic symbol, which written meant 'possession'. He was inwardly flabbergasted, someone had casted a very arcane, dark spell on her, and he certainly didn't know who had done it or what the consequences would be for her, and for him given his present circumstances. Nevertheless, his time was running short, and he was growing increasingly worried about what was happening at Voldemort's Manor.

He shot Ron a contemptuous glance, highly tempted to simply kill the boy. However, he swiftly aimed his wand at him and yelled, "SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Instantly, Hermione let out a cry as blood spurted from Ron's face and chest, as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. The boy staggered backward and collapsed onto the floor, his wand falling from his limp right hand.

"What have you done? WHY?!" shrieked Hermione in between sobs, as plunged besides Ron, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood. "We're your friends!"

"He was never my friend," snapped Orion, before he swirled around and tightly clutched Luna's shoulders. "Do you know the Lothrien healing incantation?"

"Yes," said Luna breathily, her misty eyes wide as she gazed from him to Ron.

"Then use it on him," ordered Orion in a hasty and low voice.

She nodded and immediately knelt down besides Ron, muttering under her breath as she aimed her wand at the boy's chest. In the next second, Orion ripped Hermione from Ron's side and forced her to stand up.

"You must understand why I'm doing this," he said sharply. "Remember what I told you after Neville's death? About how Dumbledore-"

"Death Eaters killed Neville!" yelled Hermione, thick tears still rolling down her cheeks while her gaze frantically flickered towards Ron. "And now you're helping them – you're one of them!"

She struggled to break free from his clutch, to run to Ron or grasp her wand, but Orion tightened his grasp on her shoulders, and said angrily, "I'm not a Death Eater but I am on the Dark's side, and it's precisely because of what happened to Neville! When Dumbledore thought that Harry Potter had died in the streets, he started grooming Neville as the one of whom the prophecy spoke of, but when it was revealed that I had been Harry Potter, he started grooming me for the same purpose – to die, as he had once known that Neville would have died if the boy ever confronted Voldemort! Don't you see, Hermione, that I'm escaping from that? From Dumbledore's manipulations! I will not be a puppet-"

"But Dumbledore has been trying to help you!" bellowed Hermione, her face pale, her expression unforgiving, with a hint of grief. "We trusted you, Orion! I TRUSTED YOU!"

Orion shook his head, and gritted out, "You refuse to acknowledge the truth about your precious Headmaster and the consequences of his manipulations. Neville would have died anyway because Dumbledore had singled him out. It would have happened eventually! Well, I refuse to allow the same thing happen to me. I will not follow that old coot's plans for me!" He pinned her with his gaze, and added softly, "I only ask that you consider my position, Hermione. There's much you don't know." And in the bat of an eyelash, before she had a chance to reply, he swiftly aimed his wand at her, and snapped, "Stupefy!"

She went down with a loud 'thud', crashing on the stone floor, her face set with a bewildered expression. Then, he turned around, to see that Luna was still mumbling the song-like incantation, Ron's numerous wounds slowly closing, though the boy was now unconscious.

Orion clutched one of Luna's shoulders, making her gaze up at him, and he said quietly, "He'll be fine. Just cast the spell two more times. You understand why I've done this, don't you? You're not… scared of-"

"Scared? No," interrupted Luna serenely, blinking up at him. "Not of you or the circumstances. I understand your motives, I always have. And you're my friend. I'll always help you."

"Thanks," said Orion, shooting her a small smile. "Okay, listen. Tell everyone that you tried to stop me. I'll be in touch with you. And take care, please."

"You too," she said calmly, placidly smiling back at him, before she focused back on Ron and proceeded to mumble the healing spell under her breath, once again.

Orion briefly gazed at the stupefied Hermione, who was lying stiff on the floor, feeling a twinge of regret. He doubted that the girl would ever see things his way. He was almost certain that the next time they saw each other would be as enemies. Nevertheless, he swiftly shoved those concerns to a side and quickly approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. She wasn't there and it didn't take much to realize that she must have gone in search of help. Without another hitch of breath, he swirled his wand in the air and blasted open the portrait. He heard frightened yells coming from the other side of the portrait-hole, and he quickly casted the parsel-invisibility spell on himself, before he rushed through it.

It seemed that every Gryffindor had gathered in the common room. The older students were trying to assuage the concerns of the younger, many of whom were sobbing, terrified. The majority of the other students were arguing among themselves, uncertain as to what to do, their expressions grave and some looking determined as well as worried. As he carefully made his way through them, approaching the stairs which led to his dormitory, he heard snippets of their loud and disorderly discussion.

"I say we should go out and see what's happening-"

"We should wait for Ron and the others to come back-"

"But we heard yells coming from outside! Death Eaters could have gotten them. We must help-"

"Professor McGonagall told us to stay put! For once, we should obey the professors-"

"I'm going out! Who's with me?"

"I'll go. We're Gryffindors, for Merlin's sake! If we don't do anything, who will?"

"I'm going too…"

Orion glanced over his shoulder once, seeing a bunch of older students rushing into the portrait hole, and as he took the first steps of the staircase, he heard their muffled voices coming from the outside.

"Loony Lovegood? What's happened?!"

"Is that – Weasley! And Granger too! Where's Finnegan and Thomas?"

"Who did this?!"

Soon he stopped hearing them as he entered the deserted dormitory. He quickly rushed to his trunk and swished his wand at it, pulling down the numerous wards and spells that he always used to safely close it. Once done, he hastily grabbed a stuffed sock and plucked out a stoppered vial from it. Orion gulped down the potion, and abruptly, he felt his stomach twisting in a painful cramp. He gasped and the empty vial crashed on the floor, as his vision turned foggy and as he felt pearls of sweat forming on his forehead. He grunted under his breath, damning that he still had to imbibe the potion which concealed his aura of dark magic. Though he would stop taking it as soon as he killed Grindelwald, since withdrawing from the potion would leave him weakened and in pain for a whole week, and he couldn't afford to lose a week in such way, not before he held the gathering at Durmstrang and killed the old German wizard... He swiftly turned his thoughts away from that subject. As much as he knew that he had to kill Gellert, he wasn't looking forward to it, and he certainly didn't want to dwell on it at present.

With his jaw clenching, he vanished the shards of the broken vial with a flick of his wand and quickly checked that all his things were inside his trunk. Then, as he heard loud voices coming once again from the common room, he grasped his Firebolt, spelled it invisible, and swished his wand at his trunk. Instantly, it was reduced to the size of his hand, and he pocketed it. And without another hitch of breath, he hastily mounted his broom.

In a flash, he flew down the stairs and over the heads of the Gryffindors congregated in the common room. Just as he hurtled through the portrait hole, he heard someone yelling in surprise, "I felt something! Something touched my head – and the air moved! There's someone in here, flying, I think!"

And there was a rushing of feet just as he flew over the older students who had come out several minutes ago, and who were presently interrogating a serene Luna, holding up a pale-faced but healed Ron, and enervating a wide-eyed Hermione. Before he plunged down the staircase which led to the lower levels of the school, Orion glanced over his shoulder to see a large group of Gryffindors running after him, their gazes flickering to all sides, attempting to catch sight of him, while others bellowed spells that flashed over his crouched head. He focused back on his path and pushed his Firebolt to fly faster, and in the next second, he found himself flying over Seamus and Dean, who were running towards Gryffindor Tower, with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick at their heels.

"Orion - Orion Black?" puffed out McGonagall, her voice curt and her face stern and lined with weariness. "Are you certain, Mr. Finnegan?"

"Aye, Professor," said Seamus, without halting his mad dash. "Hermione sent us to get some help, and Orion was trying to get in our common room. He's… he must be helping the Death Eaters, professor!"

"We must tell Albus about this, Minerva," piped in Flitwick, his small stature seemingly being no impediment since he moved just as fast as all the others.

"Yes, we must," said McGonagall quietly, her expression worried and frazzled, while her aged eyes glistened with swelling but unshed tears, "as soon as we know where he is."

Flitwick side-glanced at her. "Surely you don't believe what Alastor-"

"I don't know what to believe! But I don't want the Aurors to hear about Black still being at the school. Albus made it clear that…"

The rest of their dialogue faded away as Orion finally flew down another staircase. His heart was thundering in his chest despite his exhaustion, and his mind was barely registering everything that was happening around him. He simply saw flashes of colors rushing through his vision as he made it towards Hogwarts' entrance. He distinguished a meshed mass of Aurors and Order members dallying there… he caught sight of his father still tending to Bill Weasley… and he heard something about Scriumgeour and more Aurors getting there in a few more minutes… but that was as much as he allowed himself to comprehend, before he finally started flying over the school's grounds.

The moment he crossed Hogwarts' gates, he swiftly dismounted his Firebolt, shrunk it, and pocketed it as well. Then, taking a deep, exhausted breath, he cancelled his invisibility and plucked out his necklace from underneath his shirt. He hastily clutched the Black Heir ring which dangled from the chain, and quickly tapped it with his wand's tip.

And in the next second, the portkey activated, and he felt himself being plunged into a tightening whirlpool of colors.

* * *

He landed in the middle of dimly lit and vast room, and everyone around him seemed to freeze, the tension and threatening danger palpable. With a blink of his eyes, Orion realized where he was – the Summoning Chamber in Riddle Manor, and he had never seen so many Death Eaters gathered in one place. They were everywhere, the Inner Circle Death Eaters wearing their silver masks, some without, and the lower ranked Death Eaters with black masks, standing farther behind. And where he stood, rooted in place, was Snape, convulsing on the floor, froth bubbling from his parted lips, the black eyes rolling upwards, and next to him, an unconscious wizard laid on the floor, his thin chest slowly rising and falling, the man's face gaunt and pale, lined with agony, and partly covered by lank and long strands of platinum-blond hair.

Orion's eyes widened and he gasped. It was Lucius Malfoy, and he had never seen the wizard looking so weak, vulnerable and distraught. And finally, he caught sight of the hand that the unconscious wizard must have outstretched, towards another wizard… this one, younger and with similar features… A handsome, aristocratic face framed by silky platinum-blond hair, the body writhing on the floor, a parted mouth issuing an agonizing scream, blood spurting from it, contorted with horror, and silvery eyes losing focus, rolling to the back of his head, the puplis dilating… It was Draco… just like in his visions… And standing before his throne, Voldemort with his wand still aimed at the young wizard, the crimson eyes now piercing Orion, and he had never seen such an intense and murdering fury in them.

Suddenly, it was as if the scene erupted into motion, and the noise of angered yells crashed into his ears as he sprung forth and flicked his wand at Voldemort, screaming, "NO! It wasn't Draco's fault!"

Voldemort wasn't blasted away by his hastily casted nonverbal spell, but the wizard was forced to stagger a step back, and Orion jumped in between the wizard's line of fire and his friend. Instantly, feeling as if his heart had lodged in his throat, he kneeled down and frantically searched for Draco's pulse, grabbing the boy's wrist.

A loud sob echoed in the room, along with a frenzied cry, and he side-glance to see Narcissa Malfoy being forcefully held back by Bellatrix and Rodolphus, who still looked like Horace Slughorn. Streaks of tears were running down her pale cheeks, her blue eyes were focused on Draco's unmoving body, and her expression was one of heart-wrenching grief. Something horribly painful tightened around his chest as he gazed back at the unresponsive Draco, and he bit his lower lip and blinked back tears as he felt once again for the young wizard's pulse. His mind was a messy havoc of fearful thoughts, for he expected the worse – that he had taken too long, that he was too late, that Draco had been tortured too far and for too long, that his friend was dead…

But, abruptly, under his fingertips, he felt a weak thump of a pulse, very faintly, and Orion let out a heavy sigh of relief, and mumbled, "He's alive…" He swirled his head to a side, glancing at Narcissa, and repeated loudly, "HE'S ALIVE!"

The witch let out a sob, her face recovering some color, before she limply sagged against Bellatrix, who was fixedly eying him with scorching hatred, wand aimed at him, her fingers jerkily twitching, as if she was restraining herself from killing him right there.

"Not for long," said a silky, low voice, and Orion snapped up his face to gaze up at Voldemort, who was staring down at him.

The wizard's darkly handsome face was utterly unemotional, and Orion only realized just how enraged Voldemort was because of the fury glinting in the crimson eyes and the pain which abruptly surged in the invisible scar on his forehead. It felt as if a dagger was being plunged in his temple, and Orion gritted his teeth and slowly stood up, shielding the unconscious and tortured Draco from Voldemort.

"You have no reason to kill him," he said shortly, narrowing his eyes at Voldemort and tightening the grasp on his wand, his posture tense and alert. "Draco didn't fail. He would have succeeded if it wasn't for me. It was my fault, not his."

"I know," said Voldemort in a deadly cold tone of voice, his crimson eyes raking over him. "My Death Eaters have already informed me of your actions, and I saw what happened when I legilimized Draco." His lips curved into a thin, vicious smile. "And I saw many other things inside the boy's mind."

Orion's heart thundered in his chest, and he slightly paled, before he pulled a nonchalant expression over his face. "Oh, like what?"

Voldemort took a menacing step towards him, and Orion felt as if he was being approached by a lethal predator weighing on how to best crush his pray. There was a thick aura of dark magic violently pulsing and wrapping around the wizard, and the narrowed crimson eyes were pinning him in place. Nevertheless, much to his chagrin, he felt a rush of thrilling excitement prickling down his spine, and he intently observed Voldemort in silence, his gaze taking in every detail. It felt as if ages had passed since he had last been in Voldemort's presence, and now that he knew that Draco was alive, however tortured and weak, he felt relieved enough to allow himself to relish and absorb every feature of Voldemort's persona.

"_Like the way you've become close to the Malfoy boy,_" hissed Voldemort, now towering before him, piercing him with murdering crimson eyes. _"Sharing kisses, tender caresses, and even promises of becoming lovers… my, my, you've been double-crossing me for a long time-_"

"_I'm not your spouse anymore,"_ interjected Orion coolly, swiftly switching to parsel-tongue, since it was evident that the wizard wanted this conversation to be private. _"Those things shouldn't matter to you anymore."_ He shot him a smirk. _"Or do they?"_

Voldemort's lips curled upwards, and his expression turned icily cold. _"I couldn't care less about that. However, it does matter to me how you used my ancestors' ring, the one I gave you, the one you so vehemently wanted to keep, yet without telling me why-"_

"_I gave you the Black heirloom with the piece of soul that had been contained inside the Gaunt ring,"_ interrupted Orion curtly, though inwardly he was becoming increasingly nervous and wary. _"The Gaunt ring isn't important, it's not a horcrux anymore."_

Voldemort thinly smiled at him, but there wasn't any amusement in it, rather, it was dangerous and threatening. _"You lie so smoothly. It makes me wonder how many times you've lied to me, how duplicitous you've been with me." _In a flash, he grabbed Orion's chin, painfully sinking in his nails, and he snarled furiously_, "I saw what happened in the brat's mind, when you took him to Slytherin's private chambers. You told him you had been practicing a Necromantic spell and that you casted it wrong, but I'm not a fool like him. You were wearing the Gaunt ring and it affected you. You only came back to yourself when you ripped it from your finger, and you were fearful of it. I saw your expression, I saw what it made you do." _He pierced him with narrowed eyes, and hissed in a low voice, _"You acted like a Dementor, you fed on the boy's soul, and my ring was the cause. Evidently, there's much more to my ancestors' ring than I suspected, and you've known all along. That's why you never returned it to me. Tell me what it is!"_

"_You're mad," _scoffed Orion. "_The Gaunt ring is just a heirloom, with no special powers. I didn't lie to Draco, what happened was because I was trying to master a difficult Necromantic spell and I lost control of it-"_

"_More lies," _spat Voldemort, his crimson eyes flashing as he aggressively yanked his fingers away from Orion's chin. _"I shouldn't have expected any better from you. I want my ring back - now."_

Orion clenched his jaw, before he shrugged his shoulders and said indifferently, _"As you wish. But I don't have it with me. I left it in my dormitory at Durmstrang. I'll give it to you as soon as I can."_

"_Make sure you do,"_ hissed Voldemort, narrowing his eyes at him. _"I will not doubt to kill you if you don't return it to me."_

A surge of anger welled up inside him, and Orion glared at the wizard. He would never give Voldemort the Resurrection Stone; the last thing he needed was for the wizard to realize what the Gaunt ring truly was. Moreover, the ring was rightfully his, even if Voldemort was unaware of it. He was Cadmus' descendant; he had been Sextus Peverell, Cadmus' own son, for Merlin's sake. There was no way he was parting from the Resurrection Stone and the Guild had it at present. And though he understood the wizard's desire to discover more about a ring which was supposedly a Gaunt heirloom, he didn't appreciate the death-threat. Yet, there wasn't much he could do but lie to Voldemort again, and then figure out how to solve the problem.

"_Don't worry,"_ he said impassively, _"you'll have it."_

"I don't worry, it's you who should," said Voldemort in a steely tone of voice. He malignantly smirked at him, before he added commandingly, "Now, step to a side and stop inferring with my business."

"What business?" snapped Orion, as he saw the wizard lifting his wand once again, aiming towards Draco, who was still lying unconscious behind him. "I told you that it wasn't his fault! He was going to kill Dumbledore-"

"And is the old man dead?" demanded Voldemort coldly.

"I don't know," replied Orion gruffly. "I shot the Killing Curse at him but I don't know if it struck. Dumbledore summoned Fawkes and they disappeared before I could see what-"

"Exactly," snarled Voldemort, narrowing his crimson eyes at him, his expression holding blazing fury. "Dumbledore could be alive and Draco failed to kill him. Oh, I know it was due to your interference, therefore, I'll punish you as well. But first, I'll kill the boy. I won't have failures in my ranks."

Abruptly, apparently being able to free herself from Bellatrix's and Rodolphus' grasps, Narcissa rushed to them and swiftly kneeled in front of Voldemort, her expression beseeching and teary, her voice frantic, "Please, my Lord, forgive my son-"

"I'll deal with you later, as well," said Voldemort in a deadly cold tone of voice, eyeing her with enraged contempt. "With you and your sister. I told both of you that Draco couldn't receive any help, and now I know that you went to Severus asking for an Unbreakable Vow, which Orion took. If it hadn't been for that-"

"You have yourself to blame for how the mission turned out," spat Orion, piercing him with an angered gaze. "The Unbreakable Vow I took wasn't the problem. I owed Dumbledore a Life Debt, and you caused it because you tried to kill me at the Ministry of Magic, because you didn't want to listen to my explanations when you heard the prophecy, when you found out that I was Harry Potter!"

"A Life Debt and the Unbreakable Vow," said Voldemort sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "I see. However, when you stopped Draco in his attempt, you weren't being ruled by this supposed Life Debt, were you? You did that on your own accord, and Draco chose to obey you, disregarding my orders. I am his Lord and Master, and he disobeyed me - there'll be no forgiving!"

"My Lord," pleaded Narcissa, her beautiful face lined with frenzied beseech, as she bowed her head down to grasp the hem of Voldemort's robe, kissing it. "Please, spare my only son-"

"I'm willing to allow you and your husband to live," interrupted Voldemort coldly. "You should accept my magnanimity or you risk losing Lucius as well." He shot the unconscious Lucius a snide glance, and added, "If you interfere, as he did, I will not only torture you, as I did with him. I will kill you both, since it seems to me that the Malfoys give me more problems than benefits."

Orion stared at him, scrutinizing his face, and soon realized that the wizard actually meant it; he was going to kill Draco and couldn't care less if he lost the Malfoy's support due to it.

"_You're being an idiot, Tom,_" he hissed incensed, swiftly stepping before him and pinning him with a furious gaze. "_Why do you truly wish to kill Draco? Because he and I kissed? Because you saw that I wanted to sleep with him?! That's no reason to kill him-"_

Voldemort's eyes snapped to him, and he sneered venomously, "_I don't care who you spread your legs for-_"

"_I don't spread my legs for anyone!"_ spat Orion angrily. "_I will not tolerate how you speak to me, you hear?! I had to put up with it when I was your spouse and you were angry at me, but not anymore! And this goes as well for all your talk about 'punishing' me for what happened today; I'm not one of your minions, I'm your ally. Therefore, you have no right to punish me in any way!"_

"_Indeed, you're my ally," _snarled Voldemort, his crimson eyes darkening thunderously. "_An ally who messed with a Death Eater mission, making it fail-"_

"_You never expected the mission to succeed!" _interjected Orion heatedly._ "How could a group of only five Death Eaters take hold of Hogwarts? You knew there were some Aurors patrolling the school's grounds, I told you about it a while ago. You expected Draco to be unable to kill Dumbledore, you hoped he would be apprehended and carted off to Azkaban, and if not, then you'd have a reason to kill Draco for failing. But his 'failure' isn't your true motive-"_

"Enough!" roared Voldemort. "Bella!"

Instinctively and without a second thought, Orion leapt to protect Draco from any attack, swiftly throwing his body on top of his friend's, but he had misjudged, since he saw, too late, how a beam of light shot from Bellatrix's wand, striking Narcissa on the back. The witch, who had still been in her bowing posture, crashed on the floor with a muted 'thud'. Jerkily, Orion immediately stretched out a hand to touch her face, his heart frantically beating in his chest. However, his concern hadn't been necessary. Narcissa wasn't harmed, she merely looked asleep.

He glared up at Voldemort, still shielding Draco with his body, and sneered angrily, "A nonverbal sleeping charm will not catch me unawares. So how do you plan to kill Draco unopposed? You know I won't let you do it. Will you order all your Death Eaters to attack me? You know I can dispatch them quickly, and then you'll have a bunch of injured followers who'll be incapacitated for several weeks. Or, I could very well kill them all, and then who will you lead? Who'll take control of the Ministry and the rest of the governmental dependencies?" He narrowed his eyes at him, and added sharply, "Stop this foolishness now, and let me take Draco with me. You obviously tortured him, that's punishment enough."

Abruptly, he was aggressively yanked up to his feet by an invisible force, and Voldemort had his wand aimed at him, as the wizard hissed enraged, _"To protect the Malfoy brat you go as far as to directly oppose me in front of my servants? You'd be willing to fight me, to duel me? You'd be willing to die for him?"_

"_To die?"_ bit out Orion, instantly aiming his wand at the wizard as well, his shoulders tensing. _"You're assuming that in a duel you would win against me, Tom. But I am willing to duel you to save Draco, if humiliating you in front of your minions is what it takes."_

Voldemort's nostrils flared, and a sharp pain started stabbing Orion's forehead once again, as the wizard snarled, "Very well. Then we'll duel. And I will show you no mercy-"

"My Lord," interrupted a hoarse, weak voice, and Orion's startled gaze instantly zeroed in on Snape, who was slowly standing up, looking pained, yet the wizard had finally recovered his consciousness. "I beg forgiveness-"

Suddenly, the wizard clamped his mouth shut, and his black eyes imperceptibly widened as he shot Orion a frown and quizzical gaze. Orion stared back at him, puzzled, since he simply didn't know what Snape's eyes were questioning him about.

The wizard quickly straightened, his expression turning hard and resolved, and said beseechingly, "My Lord, allow me to redeem myself. Today I made many mistakes and I wish to prove myself to you, Master."

Orion gaped at him, though he saw that Voldemort seemed to be slightly pleased by Snape's sycophantic behavior.

"Indeed, you have much to atone for, Severus," said Voldemort coldly. "I am listening to how you propose to do it."

"Please, My Lord," said Snape quietly, "allow me to be the one to kill Draco Malfoy."

"WHAT?!" burst out Orion, shaking with fury and gazing at the wizard as if he had never seen him before.

This betrayal was something he had never expected from Snape, and his mind went in a frenzied overdrive as he tried to discern if the oaths they had shared would allow the wizard to do it… Given the oaths, Snape couldn't directly betray him or kill him, and it worked the other way around as well, but he didn't know if killing Draco could be considered as a betrayal… Furthermore, he still couldn't believe that Snape would go to such lengths to gain Voldemort's favor. He knew that Snape was ruthless in matters of war and his spying activities, and that the wizard did what was needed to insure his own survival and position, even if it would haunt him afterwards. But killing his own godson was too much. He knew that Snape had to care about Draco, and this didn't make any sense. If he was trying to appease Voldemort or gain time by promising to do such, and then he recanted, it wouldn't work. On the other hand, could Snape be willing to kill Draco to garner Voldemort's trust, so he could still spy on Voldemort for him? Or had Snape decided to be truly loyal to Voldemort? He didn't quite know what was going through Snape's mind, and he felt this betrayal most acutely, for he would have never suspected it from Snape. He had thought that the two of them had become trusted allies; friends, even, since they had shared so much about themselves.

Nevertheless, it was best if he assumed the worst from Snape, and he was about to round on the wizard and swiftly cast a curse on him before he could do anything to Draco, when Snape shot him such a look that made him still in his actions. The wizard's covert glance said it all; Snape had a plan.

Orion intently eyed him as Snape focused back his attention on Voldemort, yet he still didn't know if he could trust the wizard. This was too unexpected, and if he blindly trusted Snape and was mistaken, then Draco could be killed. On the other hand, if he stopped Snape, then he could be worsening matters for all of them. This was, indeed, a leap of faith. But he made up his mind in a second; Severus had never failed him before. Yes, he trusted the man.

"You wish to kill the Malfoy brat?" said Voldemort musingly, before a satisfied smirk tugged his lips. "Very well. Do so, and you'll gain my pardon."

"Thank you, My Lord," said Snape, bowing to him, before he swiftly aimed his wand at Draco.

Orion stiffened, his gaze quickly flickering from the passed out young wizard to Snape, and back, yet he did nothing to stop what was going to happen. And before he knew it, Snape's face contorted with hatred, and the wizard spat, "Avada Kedavra!"

The beam of bright green light careened towards Draco, nothing stopping the curse or shielding the young wizard, and Orion, feeling a sharp twist of betrayal clenching his chest, instantly sprung forth, though he knew he would be too late... As he flicked his wand, and threw himself in the air, abruptly, before him, Draco suddenly disappeared from his sight, and Orion landed on the floor where Draco should have been, aghast, and wildly looking around with wand in hand.

"WHO HAS DONE THIS?!" roared Voldemort thunderously. "Where's the boy?!"

Orion stared up at Voldemort with wide eyes, completely flummoxed and speechless, and the wizard must have seen his befuddlement since he instantly rounded on Snape. Yet, Snape looked as surprised and puzzled as everyone else, while many of the other Death Eaters were shooting spells right, left, and center, running around and trying to discover what had happened to Draco Malfoy.

He saw Voldemort furiously demanding answers from Snape, but he hardly paid attention to what was being said since his mind was dazedly spinning as he tried to make sense of the situation. Too many strange things had happened that night; the fake locket which had disappeared from the stone basin in the cave, the dark magic which had helped him when he was being torn apart by the opposing forces of the Unbreakable Vow and the Life Debt, the mark of possession in Hermione's eyes, and now Draco's disappearance. One thing was clear; someone was helping him... Gellert? The old wizard was the best candidate, but he was certain that Gellert wasn't able to pass through Potter Manor's blood-wards. Therefore, it had to be someone else who was on his side and who had enough information to know what had been planned for that night. An Atrux Atrum, perhaps? Romulus Rosier would have certainly known about the mission to break into Hogwarts, since the man was a Death Eater as well…

He surreptitiously inspected the Death Eaters present, and he soon caught sight of the wizard. Calypso's father was observing everything with a slight frown on his face, concentrated and puzzled. That ruled him out, but it could have been any other Aux Atrum. Sebastien Valois or Roman Komorov, perhaps? Both wizards were now in the highest echelons of power within the Aux Atrum; Komorov being their leader and Sebastien his right hand. And Sebastien had always been willing to help him out, but he doubted if either of them had known enough to be able to do so many things. Maybe the Spirits had known… maybe Trelawney had Seen everything that would happen, and she had told the Spirits and they had ordered Sebastien or Komorov to intervene and help him… But, the Spirits had a non-interference policy when it came to him. They wanted Vindico candidates to succeed on their own, without any external help… And he knew Komorov wouldn't go against that, so that left Sebastien… Or maybe it was Vulcan Vagnarov.... The old wizard was the one Aux Atrum who had always helped him disregarding the Spirits' wishes, but Vulcan was too ill to have done all these things… And Sebastien, who also covertly went against the Spirits to help him, was unlikely to be the one as well, since he doubted that the young French wizard knew enough to be able to be of any assistance during that night… That left…

Suddenly, the realization struck him like a lightning bolt, and Orion's eyes widened and he let out a gasp. He knew exactly who it had been, and he knew exactly how, and he didn't have a second to lose. Yet, he couldn't just leave or Voldemort, given the wizard's paranoia, would believe he had something to do with Draco's disappearance.

He instantly jumped to his feet, with a plan in mind, and quite eager to do it. Surely, it was the best way to briefly confuse Voldemort, and he had to reluctantly admit to himself that he wanted to feel the wizard's taste in his mouth once again, after so long. But, above all other things, it would serve as a distraction, even if he knew that he was complicating their relationship as allies by muddling the borders between their work and personal spheres.

Nevertheless, he had to act swiftly, so he ran towards Voldemort, seeing that Snape had apparently survived the interrogation unscathed, having been judged as innocent in the matter of Draco's disappearance. Voldemort was now crucioing some Death Eater, certainly just to vent his fury. Inwardly smirking, Orion wasted no time and grabbed the wizard by an arm and spun him around. Quickly, he cupped Voldemort's face in his hands and jumped forth to lock their mouths together. There was no tenderness in the kiss, but heated aggressiveness and passion as he plunged his tongue inside Voldemort's warm mouth. Thankfully, the wizard appeared to be too startled, and he could easily deepen the kiss without encountering opposition.

After a few seconds, he broke it, and peered up at Voldemort as he said hastily, "I'm going to look for Draco. I have to find who took him away and what they plan to do with him. I'll write to you as soon as I know anything."

Of course, it was a load of rubbish, since he knew already what had happened and who had done it. Nevertheless, before Voldemort had time to string two words together, he grasped the chain hanging from his neck and tapped his wand's tip on the Black Heir ring. Swiftly, he felt his body being pressed in a swirl of space, and the last thing he saw was Snape staring at him, his lips slightly curving upwards, his expression carrying a hint of pride and satisfaction, and with a glint of dawning comprehension in his eyes. And Orion regretted having ever doubted Snape, for one thing was certain, the man was loyal to him and the wizard possessed one of the sharpest and quickest minds he had ever known.


	22. The interfering force

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN:**

Hi, I'm finally updating! *grins triumphantly* Sorry that I took so long but this chapter was particularly difficult and time-consuming to write. Though, I must honestly admit that it isn't that exciting, so I warn you before you have the chance to be disappointed… But I hope to post the next chappie in two days, Sunday at the latest, and I think it will be much more interesting than this one. Indeed, in the next chapters a lot of stuff will be finally resolved, long-held mysteries unraveled and the such, and we'll see a lot more of war-planning, for those who like that. And I will attempt to pick up the pace, though I won't be sacrificing important plot details and descriptions for it.

Nevertheless, I do hope you get some enjoyment from this chapter!

Oh, and if someone picks up some mistake, be it in writing or plot, I would love you forever and ever if you could tell me in a review, since I didn't have the time to proof read the chapter, and as you know, I have no beta. *sniffs*

* * *

**Chapter 22**

His feet landed on solid ground, and Orion swiftly secured his necklace under his shirt. He immediately crouched, seeing that he had been portkeyed right back to where he had left, as expected - a few paces away from Hogwarts' gates.

His gaze zeroed in on the school, casted in the shadows of the night, and even from that distance he could distinguish a group of wizards coming out from the blasted front oak doors. The Dark Mark had disappeared, it wasn't glowing green above the Astronomy Tower anymore, but the moon still shed some light over the grounds. Thus, he could distinguish the faces bathed in moonlight, and he tensed with alertness.

Scrimgeour was barking orders, standing at Hogwarts' entrance with a grim and stern expression on his face, while his entourage of Aurors busily flocked around the wizard. It was evident that the Minister had been fetched minutes after he had portekeyed to Riddle Manor, and the wizard was now trying to establish some order in the school, and the lack of Dumbledore's presence was significant.

There wasn't any doubt, in Orion's mind, that Dumbledore would have been standing right next to Scrimgeour, if possible. Since the old coot wasn't there, it could only mean two things: that the Killing Curse had indeed struck the old wizard before Fawkes had taken him away, or that Dumbledore was alive but too weak to show up… Orion frowned, and bit his lower lip uncertainly. Or, it could be possible, that Dumbledore was perfectly recovered but chose not to disclose that he was truly alive. He remembered clearly the time when Snape had disclosed Dumbledore's plans to him, when he entered his guardian's mind in order to see, first-hand, the revealing memories… Dumbledore would have been forced to slightly alter his plans, but, regardless, if the old coot was alive and following said plans, then he was in deeper trouble than before…

Orion's jaw clenched and he shook his head, pushing those thoughts to a side, as he checked his wristwatch. He would muse over that matter later, now he had to act; as indicated by his watch, he didn't have a minute to spare. There was only one person who could have done all those inexplicable and strange things that had happened that night – himself.

It had struck him like a stunning revelation before, but it was obvious to him now. Surely, he was perfectly aware of the danger involved if he was caught or seen –Calypso had incessantly nagged him about it- and he knew that if he made one mistake he could be altering reality with unforeseeable and devastating consequences, but it was necessary – it had already happened, after all! And he was no novice when it came to time-travel. Certainly, he had only used it to gain more time to study Cadmus' journal and to be able to attend Durmstrang during the weekends while also going to Potter Manor to train with Grindewald. Though he had never before interfered in matters at the same time when his past self was present.

Nevertheless, the textbook that Calypso had forced him to read from front cover to back, when she had told him about her plan to ask Vagnarov for a time-turner, sufficiently gave him the necessary information for him to proceed with caution in order to succeed. Therefore, without another hitch of breath, he plucked out the golden chain from his robes' inner pocket, swiftly threw the chain around his neck, and grasped the tiny hourglass dangling from it.

He checked his wristwatch again, committing the present time to memory, before he turned the sparkling hourglass over three times. Immediately, his surroundings dissolved in darkness, and Orion had the sensation that he was flying very fast, backwards. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past him, his ears were pounding, and his heartbeat accelerated… and then, he felt solid ground beneath his feet once more, and everything came into focus again…

He was still standing besides the school's gates, but now the grounds were bathed with the dimming light of dusk, the sun just a flimsy orange streak which shinned over a hill. The school grounds were deserted, and he could distantly hear boisterous voices coming from Hogwarts, surely students making their way to their common rooms before curfew.

Orion quickly checked his wristwatch, ascertaining that he had gone back in time three hours, which was as far as he could go given his time-turner's limits. He muttered under his breath as he impatiently casted the parsel-invisibility spell on himself, and waited. Just a few minutes crept by, while he reviewed in his mind every step that he had to take – or had already taken, given how things had already turned out- and before he knew it, it was dark. Time-travel was a tricky business, especially when he had to do what he had already done, but he pushed those convoluted thoughts and preoccupations to aside when he saw a figure calmly strolling out from Hogwarts.

It was Dumbledore, looking as pleasantly unconcerned as ever, as the wizard approached where he was standing. With a few more strides, the old wizard crossed the gates, and Orion stood in absolute stillness as the old man passed along him. And, unexpectedly, he saw a shimmering figure walking side by side with Dumbledore – it was himself, under the Disillusionment Charm that the old man had casted on him before leaving the school. Of course, he had known that he would be walking with Dumbledore, but what came as a surprise was that he could see his past self, that he could see through a Disillusionment Charm, feat only accomplished by wizards as powerful as Dumbledore, Grindelwald or Voldemort. He instantly realized that this was one more proof of how powerful he had grown, thanks to Grindelwald's training.

"...yes," a disembodied, quiet voice was saying, "but I haven't got a license."

"No matter," murmured Dumbledore dismissively, his spectacled gaze fixed on the path leading to Hogsmeade. "I can assist you."

Orion observed how the old man descended along the lane, with the shimmering figure of his past self striding along, and he waited a few more minutes before he casted a muting charm on his feet and then silently followed them.

Darkness descended fast, and it was already night-time when they reached Hogsmeade. Once again, Orion stood still, a good distance away, as Dumbledore encountered Madam Rosmerta. They traded a few words, and the old man and his disillusioned past self proceeded ahead, turning the corner into the side street in which the Hog's Head was located. Then, they suddenly vanished from sight.

Forcing himself to be patient, Orion waited for the minutes to tick by, as he stood in the middle of the street, invisible to anyone. When he surmised that enough time had passed, he swiftly closed his eyes and concentrated to bring up in his mind the image of the towering cliff and rocky shore nearby the cave. Then, still focusing on the image of his destination, he was summarily thrown into the whirlwind of an apparition.

A cold breeze slapped his face, his lungs filling with fresh, salty air, and Orion opened his eyes, and quickly glanced around. From his position, on top of the rocky cliff, he immediately caught sight of the pair; Dumbledore and his past self –no longer disillusioned- were swimming down bellow, reaching the obscured entrance of the cave. He saw them clambering up some rocks, and they soon disappeared from his sight as they entered the cave's opening. It was then that Orion debated how to proceed forwards.

He knew what he had to do; obtain the fake locket without being seen, and he understood his reasons for having done so. If the locket hadn't disappeared, no matter how ill the potion had made Dumbledore, at some point the old man would have seen the fake locket, and probably opened it to find the message inside. And the last thing he wanted was for Dumbledore to know that the message had been written by Regulus Black. Given the old wizard's sharpness of mind, the man would instantly realize what it meant; that Regulus had known about Voldemort's horcruxes, that he had taken the real horcrux, and, more importantly, that the real locket had obviously not been destroyed but stashed in Regulus' bedroom in Grimmauld's Place.

Given that everyone knew by now that he had escaped from the Dursleys when he was ten years old, found that very evening by his escaped father, and that they had lived in Grimmauld's Place for several weeks before going to Black Manor, Dumbledore would certainly piece it all together. The old man would certainly conclude, correctly, that he had found the Slytherin locket all those years ago, and that he had befriended the Tom Riddle of the portrait.

Whether Dumbledore was alive or not, it was better to work with the worse-case scenario, with the assumption that the old man had survived. Therefore, he didn't want the old coot to know that he had grown up with Tom Riddle by his side. The less the old man knew the better, since it would give the wizard less chances to manipulate him with the knowledge that Regulus –supposedly, only his uncle- had turned against Voldemort in the end, and died for it. Furthermore, Dumbledore believed that he was loyal to Voldemort because he had found out, over a year ago, that he was a horcrux. Therefore, he certainly didn't want the old man to discover that he had known Tom Riddle since the age of ten: that their 'friendship' had influenced him since childhood; that it had in some way helped him decide to support the Dark; that he had known about the horcruxes, in some measure, for so long; that he had been mentored by Tom; and that his feelings for Voldemort had much to do with the locket Tom Riddle as well.

Not to mention, of course, that if the old man discovered that one of the presumed horcruxes was fake, then the wizard would have cause to ponder if his suspicious regarding the rest of the horcruxes were incorrect or flawed. And that would lead to a whole lot of trouble for Voldemort, but also for himself. Indeed, the less the old coot knew, the better.

Now, the matter was how to procure the fake locket, swiftly, without being detected, without using the boat and without disturbing the cave's lake, since the Inferi had only risen when he had used Dumbledore's conjured goblet to get some water for the old man. Orion slightly frowned when he remembered that he _had_ been detected in some way – he had heard a fluttering sound…

Suddenly, his eyes brightened and a smirk tugged his lips. It had been the fluttering of wings, of course! Yet, he had to have been small enough to pass through the cave's hidden entrance, and his wings surely couldn't have been the large, powerful ones of his wyvern animagus form or he would have made a ruckus. No, he certainly had to turn into Blackwing, his eagle form, the one he had learned as a child with his father's help, and which he hadn't used in ages, since it wasn't his real animagus shape. He recalled that, according to Durmstrang's Human Transformation professor, he had transformed into Blackwing as a child, when trying to find his animagus form, because turning into his real wyvern shape would have been impossible at such young age, since a wyvern was a magical creature, thus a very uncommon animagus form, difficult to master. Furthermore, he was certain that his ability to change into a form which wasn't his real animagus one –and his scarcely used ability to half-way transform into Firebreath- had much to do with the Metamorphagus trait carried in the Black bloodline.

With the obvious solution in his mind, Orion slowly flexed his invisible left arm – and winced. It still ached painfully and it still didn't work perfectly, though he could use it better than before after having casted some standard healing spells on it. Bellatrix had certainly done a number on his arm. Nevertheless, he could move it, and that was good enough. And without another hitch of breath, he concentrated in shifting his limbs. The transformation happened slower than ever before, as expected given that he hadn't turned into Blackwing in ages. But in a couple of minutes and after several painful cracking of bones, he found himself with a white-and-black vision, his surroundings looming above him as he flapped his wings and teetered from side to side, becoming used to his stick-like legs, small but sharp claws, and his small size.

Then, he quickly flapped his wings and soared up into the dark skies, before he dived down towards the wild waves of the sea. His tiny heart was now quickly pounding in his black feathered chest, the heartbeat so unusually fast that it felt uncomfortable, yet he was encompassed with an exultant, thrilling sensation as he flew over the spikes of waves, and he relished in it – in the feeling of carefree, simplistic freedom that he always had when flying.

Rushing through the chilly wind, he flew directly into the cave, his sharp vision greatly helping, and he perched himself on top of a towering boulder in the middle of the cave. His golden eyes instantly inspected the rocky wall of the cave – the secret entrance had closed itself. He squawked, not at all happy that he would have to shed his own blood to reopen it, but there was no other way. He landed on the ground and quickly hopped forward until he stood before the cave's wall. Then, he brought up his invisible right wing –the parsel-invisibility spell still holding even in his animagus form- and he pecked it repeatedly with his sharp beak. He felt tiny drops of blood trickling down the small feathers and he swiftly rubbed his right wing against the rocky wall, smudging his blood on it.

Suddenly, a blazing silver outline of an arch appeared in the wall, and the rock within it vanished, leaving an opening into darkness. Knowing that it would close again in a few minutes, and thus that he had to act quickly since he didn't want to stop on his way back to shed more blood to reopen it, he jumped into the air and swiftly flew through the archway.

He came through the other side and soared over the edge of the lake, slowing down and doing his best to flap his wings quietly, since he could be heard even if he was invisible. He flew in small circles as he gazed down at his surroundings, and he immediately caught sight of Dumbledore and his other self. They were already in the tiny island in the middle of the lake, and he flew towards them, flapping his wings as less as possible and spreading them wide in order to be suspended in the air and move forth, instead of quickly flying forward. Thankfully, in this smaller form, an eagle, he didn't need to flap his wings as forcefully and constantly as when he was a wyvern, so his actions were quiet.

He swiftly landed on the edge of the stone basin, clutching it with his claws and precariously maintaining his balance by spreading his wings wide beside him, just at the same time that his past self scooped a gobletful of potion.

"Only one more, sir. Drink this, drink it," was his other self murmuring, sitting down on his haunches and placing Dumbledore's head on his lap as he forced the old man to drink.

He blinked at the scene, feeling that it was bizarre to see himself from that perspective. His past self looked tired yet determined and smug, while Dumbledore seemed to be in agony.

"I want to die!" abruptly shouted Dumbledore, the aged face contorting with anguish, "I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die – KILL ME!"

"I will, soon," whispered his past self, as he gently caressed a silver lock of hair from Dumbledore's face. "Tell me about Ariana."

"Ariana… mother… Abe! Please… no, my fault!… Gellert…"

He forced himself to stop paying attention to them, the scene was disturbing and he was starting to feel greatly tempted to do something about it – namely, to steal the Elder Wand. Yet he knew he couldn't, he hadn't done it and if he tried, his past-self would surely detect that someone was there. And if his past-self was confronted with his current-self, there was no way of knowing how he would react. Would he understand that he had time-travelled and that he wasn't someone passing off as him? Or would he attack before asking questions? He would like to believe that he would instantly realize what was going on, but he wasn't about to test himself. The last thing he wanted was to die under his own wand, killed by himself. That would indeed be ironic and pathetic. Oh, no, he certainly wouldn't complicate matters. That evening had already turned out to be a giant, messy failure.

"Hyperion… Hyperion Dionysius…"

"That's a middle name, Albus-"

"Gellert!" suddenly cried Dumbledore, and he moved into action as the old man grasped his past-self's hand. "Please… please, listen, I-"

Abruptly, the old man let out a piercing scream of pain and doubled over, landing face-first on the stone floor, his body lying unmoving. And seeing his other self distracted, he swiftly hopped inside the stone basin. Almost nothing was left of the potion, and the fake locket was innocently lying inside the basin's depth. Swiftly, he squatted and nipped the locket in his beak, and then stood in absolute stillness, concentrating in hearing what his past-self was doing, since he couldn't see over the basin's edge.

"Ennervate!" snapped his other self, then he heard a string of muttered cursing, and there was a scuffling noise. "Aguamenti!"

He took that as his cue and instantly flapped his wings, once, soaring into the air with the locket trapped inside his beak, but he immediately dived down when he caught sight of his past-self snapping his head up and gazing around with suspicious alertness. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the moment in which he had heard the fluttering sound. Thus, he landed on the ground, inches behind his other-self's shoes, standing on his small claws, motionless and quiet.

Suddenly, he almost squawked when his past-self leapt to his feet and his boots almost squashed him. He flapped his wings once and hopped to a side, but then his past-self turned around once again and he was forced to hop to the other side, feeling increasingly irritated with his other self. Surely, yet again he was forced to hop repeatedly to stay out of the way of his past-self, dancing around him and the unconscious Dumbledore. He had half a mind to stab his other self's ankle with his beak, his impatience growing, though, thankfully, his past self finally approached the lake.

Nevertheless, he didn't spring forth into a flight, lest he be heard or the locket be seen dangling from his invisible beak. He needed his other self to be distracted, therefore he simply observed -with a twisted kind of amusement- how his past-self halted in his way towards the lake to jump forward towards the basin and gape at its emptiness.

He hopped and ducked behind the stone pillar which held the basin, and poked his small head up and around to peer up at his past-self. That Orion was still gazing down at the basin, jaw hanging agape, with a confused frown on his face. Then his past-self's eyes widened and frantically glanced around, tightly clutching his wand, shoulders tensing.

Thankfully, a pitiful moan echoed through the cave, and his past-self's attention focused back on Dumbledore. He inwardly sighed with exasperated relief when his past-self finally crouched on the edge of the island and plunged the goblet into the lake.

He impatiently observed how his other self made Dumbledore drink another gobletful of water, before the goblet clanked to the ground as a slimy white hand abruptly shot from the lake, grasping his past-self's ankle. In a few more seconds, the lake's surface rippled and more Inferi sprung forth. At last, he saw his past-self's eyes turning into all-black glowing pools, an eager smirk curving his lips as he yelled exultantly, "Domino necrocorpus!"

Then, knowing that his other self was finally distracted, he jumped into a flight and quickly flapped his wings. He soared into the air, flying inches away from the cave's rocky ceiling, while bitterly musing that dealing with the Inferi had been the highlight of his day – that, and shooting a Sectumsempra at Ron Weasley, though he would have infinitely preferred that it could have been the Killing Curse. Yet, he had to reluctantly admit that Snape's advise to spare light wizards had been a wise one, considering how things had turned out.

He flew through the secret entrance of the inner cave, which was thankfully still open, and he didn't stop until he was soaring up into the dark skies, with the sea's waves cresting under him. At last, he perched himself on a rock and swiftly transformed back. He spat the locket out from his mouth and quickly pocketed it, before he patted all over himself to make sure that he had all his things with him; his clothes, and his shrunk Firebolt and trunk inside his pockets. He ascertained that he hadn't lost anything in his transformations, since one could lose his clothes and any other thing one had with himself when transforming without the required concentration, much like it happened when one lost a limb when apparating incorrectly. Then, without wasting any more time, and just when he saw his other self plunging into the sea, dragging a weak Dumbledore, he swiftly closed his eyes and apparated away.

* * *

Orion landed in the middle of Hogsmeade, and he hesitated for a fraction of a second, wondering what he should do next. Finally, he unshrunk his Firebolt, spelled it invisible, mounted it and rushed towards Hogwarts. He was still under the parsel-invisibility spell so he wasn't concerned about being seen, but he didn't quite know how much he could do without anyone finding out that there was a time-travelling Orion moving about the school. Nevertheless, he made up his mind when he caught sight of the Dark Mark already glowing above the Astronomy Tower.

Dumbledore and his past self would soon apparate into Hogsmeade, Rosmerta finding them before they took her broomsticks to fly to the Tower. Therefore, he estimated that he had about ten to fifteen minutes before matters erupted in the Astronomy Tower. He inwardly grimaced; that part would indeed be tricky, saving himself without being noticed, while surrounded by Death Eaters who would notice anything suspicious and then tell Voldemort.

He frowned, his mind jumbling with plans and thoughts, while he flew through the school's gates, deciding to make his way to the Astronomy Tower in order to be prepared… Yet, he still had a couple of minutes, and perhaps he could find and speak to his father, since Merlin knew when Sirius would be able to contact him now that the wizard was under suspicion. Though, he realized that people like Moody would always suspect Sirius, even if that night's events hadn't happened at all.

Nevertheless, it would truly be helpful if he could speak to his father, and even for more reason since he hadn't caught sight of a single Auror, disillusioned or not, patrolling outside the school. It was clear they that had already seen the Dark Mark and that they must be inside the school, probably already battling Draco and the Death Eaters. Thus, as soon as he reached the school's entrance, he dismounted the Firebolt, shrunk and pocketed it, before he slipped through the front oak doors.

The instant he stepped into the main hall of the school, he became aware of the confused havoc inside. A group of befuddled and fearful students were being swiftly escorted by Professor Sinistra, who had a curt and no-nonsense expression on her usually amiable face. When he gazed upwards, towards the maze-like lattice of moving staircases, he caught sight of Professor Flitwick escorting a gaggle of Ravenclaw students, Luna and Cho Chang among them, before they disappeared into a corridor which he surmised led to the entrance of Ravenclaw's Tower. Noises of a distant scuffle echoed throughout the castle, and all the while a voice was booming, "…all students are to remain in their common rooms. Anyone found outside will earn a severe detention-"

Abruptly, an explosion resounded through the school, accompanied by yells and crashing noises, and McGonagall's stern, booming voice became more urgent as she continued rambling about security measures and the dire consequences for anyone who didn't abide them. Though the witch didn't give any explanations, and she certainly didn't mention the Dark Mark which had been casted over the school.

Nevertheless, Orion didn't pay attention to what she was saying and he quickly took two steps at a time to rush towards the origin of the bellowed curses. As he ran with all his might, he puckled out the Marauder's Map from his pocket, tapped it with his wand, and muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good…"

Never halting, he quickly glanced down at the map to discover a group of black dots, all bunched up in one place, some scattering without direction while other dots were swiftly moving forward – all in the sixth floor's corridor. And he instantly realized that that corridor connected the Room of Requirements to the only entrance of the Astronomy Tower. Furthermore, as he glanced down again to read the names labeled over the dots, he discovered that his father was there, among a group of Aurors and Order members, some names he knew and others he didn't. And more importantly, Draco was there, with the Death Eaters, and they were greatly outnumbered. More dots started to appear in that corridor, but he swiftly pocketed the map and wasted no more time.

With a couple of more turns and sprints along stairways, he finally reached the landing which gave way to the sixth's floor corridor. But, abruptly, he heard the rushing of feet behind him, and he flattened himself against the wall just in time when a group of four students passed by him at full speed.

"Ron!" panted out Hermione, running along with Seamus and Dean, looking disheveled and frantic. "We should wait for Professor McGonag-"

"She knows what's going on!" snapped Ron, without glancing back at her and never halting in his mad dash. "And we saw the Dark Mark from our common room's window. And the yells are coming from here – my brother is with the Order, 'Mione! He's in there and I wanna help. And I bet you anything that Black is with the Death Eaters, that he's one of them-"

"Orion is the Boy-Who-Lived and he's been working with Dumbledore on something. He cannot be helping the Death Eaters-"

"THEN WHERE IS HE?!" bellowed Ron, his face puffing with rage. "You told me yourself that he's been acting strangely these past few weeks. And I knew from the start that he was Dark. That he's bad news - evil! That he couldn't be trusted-"

"But I never said that Orion-"

"Blimey - wake up, Hermione! He's a traitor – he's Dark!" bit out Ron, as the group made a turn around the corner. "I'm gonna bring him down and he deserves everything that he's getting-"

Suddenly, their voices were muted by a resounding crash and by a messy roar of simultaneous spells and curses, before a curt, authoritative voice yelled angrily, "What are you children doing here?! This is Auror business-"

"We want to help-"

"Someone get these brats away from here!" commanded a gruff voice. "Diggory!"

"Yes, sir-"

"The Death Eaters, block them – get them! Arggh, what's this?!"

Orion didn't think about it twice and he quickly turned around the corner, but as soon as he stepped into the corridor he was suddenly startled when he found himself in absolute darkness, before it was cut through by streaks of light as voices started bellowing spells. He squinted and finally discerned the scene before him. The battle among the patrol of Aurors and Order members against the Death Eaters was chaotic and fierce, and a mantle of darkness seemed to be encompassing everyone, no matter how many spells were being casted. The only source of light came from Draco, who was in the further end of the corridor, holding a shriveled, decomposed arm in his left hand – the Hand of Glory, which Lucius had given him as a present, a long while ago.

Draco seemed to be the only one who wasn't getting the brunt of the Aurors' attack, though he was busy dueling against a young man, who, given his casual robes, had to be an Order member. Moreover, Draco looked extremely impatient and frazzled, shooting curses quickly, as if he simply wanted to create a window of opportunity to flee from there. And Orion understood why when he saw that Draco was several feet away from the spiraling staircase which gave way to the Astronomy Tower.

On the other hand, the rest of the Death Eaters were fiercely battling the Aurors and Order members, clearly creating a wedge through which Draco could ran through in relative safety once he got rid of the young wizard he was dueling. The Carrow siblings were fighting against a group of five wizards, back-to-back, displaying an extraordinary coordination between them, and apparently managing quite well on their own. Bellatrix was in the middle of the battle, cackling with thrilled and vicious enjoyment, her wand swishing in the air with amazing speed and dexterity, as her lips constantly spat a continuous string of dark curses. And she was, admittedly, probably the best dueler present there, only surpassed by the Carrow siblings.

Orion's eyes narrowed when he discerned who she was battling against; his father and Bill Weasley. But his attention was captured when he saw Moody and Shacklebot fighting against a ferocious-looking Greyback. Though the werewolf didn't seem too interested in them, since the man frequently shot leering glances at Bill Weasley, who was a few feet away. There was no doubt in Orion's mind that the werewolf preferred to tear apart handsome, young wizards like Bill, instead of wasting time with old, disfigured men like Alastor Moody.

Meanwhile, the Auror left, Cedric Diggory, and one Order member who Orion recognized as the one who had been addressed as 'Elphias', were protectively surrounding Ron, Hermione, Dean and Seamus, casting shields against any wayward or ricocheting curse, while trying to drag them away from the battle. But they didn't have much success, since Ron repeatedly tried to get into the fray, apparently thinking that he could in some way help his older brother. And Orion had to thank Gryffindorish stupidity, since their presence there certainly counted in the Death Eaters's favor, given that Cedric and Elphias had to protect the four Gryffindors instead of directly involving themselves in the battle. Hermione seemed the only one to realize this, since she kept trying to pull away the other three, yet the boys paid her no attention as they shot whatever paltry curses and spells they could manage. Admittedly, it didn't seem as if Bellatrix was giving them any chance to escape, since she frequently shot vicious dark curses at the group, whenever she could manage while dueling against Bill and Sirius.

Orion had been about to surreptitiously aid his father when he caught sight of 'Slughorn', who was among the group which was protecting Hermione and Ron. That definitely gave him pause, and he frowned. The polyjuiced Rodolphus was acting as if he was on the Light's side, putting up his act as Horace Slughorn, and only shooting spells against some distant Auror when no one would notice his 'mistake'. Yet, he didn't understand why Rodolphus was still behaving like Slughorn. The Death Eater had known that Dumbledore knew the truth about his identity, so there was no point in Rodolphus maintaining his cover when he could be directly helping the other Death Eaters…

Abruptly, he remembered something; how Rodolphus had frowned at him when he had told the wizard that Dumbledore knew his real identity. There had been confusion in Rodolphus' frown… and suddenly, it dawned on him why; he had already told Rodolphus about it. And he wouldn't have a better chance than now. The Death Eaters had seen him fall over the Astronomy Tower's battlements, therefore he couldn't speak to Rodolphus after that incident or the wizard would later suspect that there had been two of him. However, no one knew what his other self was doing at present, and he could spin some lie if asked, since only Dumbledore knew the truth.

Furthermore, he had been extremely cautious all this time, waiting and observing before acting. But, at present, in the midst of such a havoc of a battle, he would need to simply jump into it. He realized that this was his only opportunity to do three vital things quickly, one after the other – he wouldn't have a chance later. Moreover, his time was running short –Dumbledore and his other self must be about to reach the Astronomy Tower- and he could no longer do things with the carefulness he would have liked.

Orion crouched, his muscles tensed, and just when he saw a spell careening towards the group composed by 'Slughorn', Hermione and Ron, he ran forward and slammed himself against 'Slughorn'. They flew in the air for over a few feet, before Orion landed on top of the disconcerted and winded wizard. Orion swiftly straddled the man's waist, casted a protective shield and muting bubble around them, and covered the Death Eater's mouth with a hand.

Then, he leaned his face into the crook of the man's neck to whisper urgently in his ear, "I'm under a disillusionment charm, Ruddy, but by my voice you'll be able to tell that it's me, Orion. Now, I need you to listen carefully. Dumbledore knows who you really are, so if… things turn wrong, then you'll need to leave. It's your decision when to show your true allegiance, but if you're planning on staying at the castle because Voldemort ordered you to pose as Slughorn for as long as you could, then I suggest you reconsider. Voldemort surely isn't aware, but Dumbledore knows who you are and there's a high chance that the Aurors will find out if you stay, and you'll be carted off to Azkaban before you even blink. Now, nod if you've understood."

Slughorn's eyes marginally widened, and the man quickly nodded, the chins flapping wildly.

"Good," breathed out Orion, instantly jumping to his feet. "Oh, and tell no one about this." He smirked down at the man, even if he knew that the wizard couldn't see him. "After all, you owe me one for this."

The polyjuiced Rodolphus scoffed, swiftly standing up, but other than that, the man didn't do anything that could indicate that there was someone else near him. And surreptitiously nodding again, now respectfully, the wizard instantly jumped back into action, as if nothing had happened other than he had been toppled down by some spell. Orion was certain that the wizard must be wondering about his invisible presence there but he was also quite certain that the man wouldn't later blab about it to anyone else. Rodolphus, despite his outgoing and brash exterior, was a cautious one - much like his younger brother, who wouldn't freely offer information unless it directly benefited him. And Orion was aware that even if Rodolphus said nothing, Voldemort would eventually find out the truth about that night, including his time-travelling interference in that night's happenings.

Suddenly, an explosion of green light shot outwards and he instinctively crouched down on the floor. Though, after feeling no pain or any other symptom, he realized that it was just harmless light, seemingly some type of signal or alarm.

"DRACO, NOW!" yelled Bellatrix, casting a defensive shield against Bill Weasley's and Sirius' volleys of attacks, in order to shoot a curse at the wizard who was still dueling Draco. "The old goat is there – get up there now!"

And in that second, the battle seemed to become fiercer and harsher, everyone redoubling their efforts, as Draco jumped over the limp body of the wizard he had been fighting against and made a dash towards the spiraling staircase which led to the Astronomy Tower. The rest of the Death Eaters remained behind, and they certainly looked as if they were ready to fight till death.

"Someone follow that boy, and stop him from doing whatever he intends to do!" roared Moody, shooting a violet beam of light at Greyback, who was flung into the air, crashing with a sickening noise against a wall. "Diggory, stop protecting the brats – let them get injured, that will show them to not get into battles uninvited! Leave them and go after the Malfoy boy!"

At the same time that Greyback got back to his feet, apparently in the next second after being smashed against the wall, and with a mere grunt of pain while resetting his arm and leaping to attack Moody, Cedric ran towards the stairs into which Draco had disappeared. Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were left behind, protected by Elphias, the old Order member, though the two boys certainly didn't look happy about the situation. And Orion saw how they were managing to inch their way out of the battle now that Bellatrix was more focused on dueling her enemies rather than in keeping Gryffindor students trapped in the fray.

Suddenly, when his gaze was scanning the area to locate his next target, a surprised scream resounded through the corridor, even heard above the bellowed curses, and Orion caught sight of Cedric shooting by above everyone's heads, limbs flailing in alarm. Shacklebot paused his joint-attack with Moody against Greyback and flicked his wand at the flying young Auror, and Orion saw Cedric suddenly, yet carefully, landing on the floor, as if buffeted by invisible pillows.

"There's some sort of barrier, sir!" yelled Cedric, slightly swaying as he stood up. "I couldn't get through!"

Shacklebot started barking orders, but Orion was now certainly not paying attention to them, his gaze was riveted on the entrance to the stairway which led to the Astronomy Tower, his mind rushing with alarm. A barrier? That was something he hadn't expected. How would he get through then? Draco was already up there, Dumbledore and his other self with him, without a doubt, and soon he would need to be there in order to save himself from the clashing warring between the Life Debt and the Unbreakable Vow. And he still needed to do other things before going up there. And where was Snape? His other self must have sent the patronus with the message about ten minutes ago, so what was the man doing that it was taking him so long to show up?

Orion frowned and shook his head. He would worry about the barrier and Snape afterwards. At the very least, he had to accomplish one more thing before he went to the Astronomy Tower. He doubted he would have the time for it later. His gaze scanned the area, he immediately located his next target, and flicked his wand at Hermione, Ron, and 'Slughorn', who was back pretending to be protecting the pair, helping them to make their way out of the battle unscathed. They were blasted away by his nonverbal spell, 'Slughorn' and Ron smashing against a wall, then sliding down, temporarily knocked down.

Meanwhile, Orion immediately jumped forward as a flailing Hermione was about to crash on the hard, stone floors, and with a bout of flashing speed, he wrapped an arm around her waist, rolled with her on the floor, away from the battle, and then quickly jumped to his feet and pulled her around the corner. Even if they were around the corner from the battle, he flicked his wand and casted a disillusionment charm over her and a silencing and anti-spying bubble over them.

Then, he unceremoniously slammed her shimmering figure against the wall, pulling up her arms over her head and tightly gripping her wrist in one of his hand, while he used the other to lift her chin up. Hermione's eyes were wide, confused and dizzied, blinking and flickering in every angle, trying to see who had grabbed her.

"What – who?" she wheezed out, starting to struggle weakly against his hold.

Orion stared at her for a fraction of a second, feeling a sudden twinge of regret which he forced himself to instantly dismiss. He had already done this, so he would do it now to make it happen; turning her into a mindless puppet, someone without a will of her own, since whenever he desired it, she would be nothing but a vessel for his own will. Even if she would be herself the rest of the time, this was something that couldn't be undone; she would always be under his domination and rule, and he would be able to turn her into an obedient puppet whenever he liked, as if turning on and off a switch in her mind.

But, whatever compunctions he felt about it, it was superseded by the realization that such action was necessary; he needed a spy in the Order, in the Light's side, someone who would never be suspected. Who better than a muggleborn girl despised by so many Slytherin students, the know-it-all Gryffindor who had been Neville Longbottom's best friend and who had later been betrayed by the now infamous Boy-Who-Lived? Indeed, no one would ever suspect her, and Dumbledore –if alive- would never imagine that he had casted such an arcane, obscure, and devastating spell on her. He even doubted that Dumbledore knew about this particular dark curse at all; it was ancient and had been tabooed and prohibited over a millennium ago.

All in all, it was a pity - doing this to her. Such a waste. If only she had been willing to be turned to the Dark's side. But it wasn't to be so, and he had to admit that there really wasn't a place for her in the Dark – a muggleborn would cause more problems than be useful, even if it was someone as bright as Hermione. Yet, he wanted to give her some sort of explanation, so that she could someday grasp what had happened to her and why.

He observed her face, and said quietly, "Hermione, listen to me-"

"Orion, is that you?" she said frantically, her eyes snapping in every direction, her unease and alarm increasing. "Why can't I see you? Why are you holding me down-"

"Keep still and listen to me," interrupted Orion, tightening his fingers around her jerking wrists. "I want you to remember this part, what I'll say next. Tonight, and probably for many to come, you'll try to find out my motives and you'll try to unravel what I've done to you. I can only tell you one thing which will help you understand, partly, what has been going on and the reasons behind my actions of tonight." He leaned forward, and whispered softly into her ear, "Remember this clearly: find the Treatise written by Dumbledore in 1899, and read it."

Hermione glanced upwards to where she thought Orion's invisible face was, her expression turning bewildered. "What-?"

Instantly, Orion pressed a hand over her mouth and released her wrists to slap a palm on her forehead, carding his fingers through her frizzy hair, raking her scalp, as he intently bore his gaze into hers, and said sharply, "Possesso mentis subservia!"

Glowing, red claw-like fingers burst forth from Orion's hand, and instantly dug into her skull, like a vise intent on snapping around and trapping a pray in between its steel jaws. As the magic of the dark curse sunk into her brain, the scream that tore from Hermione's mouth was muffled by Orion's hand and by the sounds of the nearby battle. But he was forced to grip her head tighter when her body started to violently convulse, her legs giving way underneath her, and the only thing keeping her up being her hair being fisted in Orion's hand and his body being pressed against hers, pinning her on the wall.

She continued screaming against the hand he had pressed against her mouth, gripping her cheeks, and he started murmuring soothingly in her ear while her muffled voice began to turn hoarse and even more desperate and agonizing, while thick tears rolled down her cheeks, her wide, glazed eyes staring up at him, unfocusedly, "Everything will turn out fine, Hermione… I'm not killing you… don't worry… this pain is nothing, it will end soon… just a few more seconds, let the magic seep into your mind… don't fight it or it will hurt even more…"

She started sobbing uncontrollably, and Orion sighed and gently cleared her tears, still pressing a hand against her mouth, as he continued softly, "Sshhh, don't cry… you'll still be yourself after this - partly... you'll remember your life and you'll act as yourself, the only difference is that you'll be unable to do anything which would constitute a betrayal towards me… you'll never be able to turn against me, you'll automatically help me whenever you can, even if you can do it without being suspected if others are around, and you'll be unable to bring me physical harm be it by action or inaction… you'll find yourself forced to communicate with me, to tell me everything you consider that I might want to know, and you won't be able to fight against it… you'll only be losing your free will, nothing more. No harm will come to you, but you'll never be able to tell anyone about this, nor show or share this memory… you'll only be able to remember this in your dreams and you'll only be able to think about it when you're alone. So, in some way, your mind is still your own, only that now I can have absolute control over it whenever I want."

He pierced her with his eyes, seeing the pupils dilated, the eyes glazed over, her expression slack, and he finally muttered, "I posses your mind now. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said in a drone-like monotone, and in that instant, her eyes flashed red, the runic symbol glowing in the black depths of her expanded pupils, and Orion's lips tugged upwards as he felt a strange sensation in his mind.

He wrapped an arm around her waist just in time, just when her head lulled to a side and her body sagged limply. And Orion's expression turned into one of wonderment as he touched his temple. He felt a distant, fluttering beating to one side of his mind, a pulsing link at the edges of his awareness… He realized what it was; the connection he could open to Hermione's mind, no matter the distance between them. It was the means by which he could communicate thoughts into her mind, orders to be obeyed, patterns of behavior to be followed, and opinions to be absorbed by her mind. It was the channel through which she could also feed him back the information he requested… It was, in short, the chain between slave and master, and the feeling of it, from Orion's side, was wondrous and thrilling, vibrating with power and a sense of endless opportunity for exploitation.

He shook his head, clearing it from its dazzlement, remembering that the connection he had opened was a fragile one, since if he overexerted it he could easily end up snapping her mind in two and she would be left as a mindless automaton. He would need to be careful and gentle with her, at least at first when he started practicing in how many ways he could control her, when he started testing the limits of his domination over her mind and thoughts.

Orion gazed down at the pale-faced girl who hung like a rag-doll in his arms. With unwitting possessiveness, he gently stroked a frizzy curl away from her tear-stained cheeks. Yes, he would need to go easy on her in the beginning, and he would patiently test just how much he could do.

Still holding her up in his arms, he quickly cancelled the disillusionment charm on her, and then brought down the other spells he had casted around them. In an instant, the racking sounds of the nearby battle came clashing into his ears and he quickly jumped around the corner, and flicked his wand at the unconscious Hermione. She was propelled into the air, before Orion flicked his wand again, making her crash on top of Ron, who had his back turned. The boy cried in startlement, and Orion wasted no time in scanning the area again, looking for his father.

"Hermione?!" Ron was yelling, now having rolled the girl to her back, gazing at her with frantic worry, wand aimed. "Ennervate! ENNERVATE!"

"Uff…Ohhh…"

"What the hell happened to you? Where were you-"

"I…I don't remember… I must have been blasted away by some curse and hit something… Ow, I need to lie down for a bit, I think I have a serious concussion…"

Their conversation soon dimmed as it was swallowed by the noises of the battle, and by the grunts and groans of a couple of wizards who were trying to get into the staircase which led to the Tower. One after the other, like had happened to Cedric, they were bounced off by the invisible barrier, being hurtled through the air. In the midst of that scene, Orion caught sight of something which made his eyes grow wide. The Carrow siblings, Bellatrix and Greyback were rushing forth to form a frontline a few steps away from the entrance to the Astronomy Tower. And without a second thought, quite instinctively, he flattened himself on the floor and casted a shield over him, arms protectively flexing over his head. It was on the nick of time, because the next moment he blinked he saw all those present there hurtling up in the air, as if lifted and spun around by a tornado. They were smashed against the furthest end of the corridor, and the Death Eaters, after having casted their joint curse, dashed into the stairway of the Tower.

Groans, cries, and moans of pain started resounding throughout the corridor, along with cracks and grunts, and Orion's gaze instantly searched for his father amongst the group of wizards, witches, and four Gryffindors, who slowly started to stand up -those who could- to tend to their injuries and others'. Just when he caught sight of his father, who appeared to be disheveled and frazzled but unharmed, the sound of rushing footfalls reached his ears, before two wizards doubled the corner and rushed into the corridor; a tiny one, with glasses askew and a dizzied expression on his pointy face, Professor Filius Flitwick, and the man Orion had been waiting for, Snape, with black robes billowing and a grave expression on the sour face. Snape shot the moaning assembly of wizards and witches a scathing glance, and then completely ignored them as he pelted forward into the staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower.

"How did he cross the barrier?" wheezed out Cedric, perplexed, while wrapping an arm over his ribcage.

Orion saw Moody shooting Shacklebot a significant glance, the old man's disfigured face looking highly suspicious and fierce, and Shacklebot shook his head as he said in his low, deep voice, "He's trusted by Dumbledore and he was obviously fetched by Filius, under Minerva's orders." The imposing wizard shot a glance at the short Charms Professor, who nodded in affirmation, and then the Auror continued, "Alastor, all we can do is keep trying to bring down the spell that's blocking the stairway. If that fails, we'll wait until Snape comes back with the Death Eaters. He'll help us then, and we can ambush them right here, since there's no other way out for them…"

As Shacklebot proceeded to rattle off orders to his unit of Aurors while Moody organized the Order members, Orion stood up, dusted off his robes, and inspected the proceedings for a few seconds. Some Aurors were escorting Ron, Hermione, Dean, and Seamus away from the corridor, Ron being the only one actually complaining until one of the Aurors grabbed him by the scruff and unceremoniously dragged him along. The rest of the Aurors and Order members were moving around, following Shacklebot's and Moody's orders and strategically placing themselves along the corridor, for when the Death Eaters reappeared, since it was obvious that everyone knew that the Death Eaters only had one way out of the Astronomy Tower – the same they had taken to get in. And Orion saw his chance to act when a group of Order members –his father among them- started to disorderly take their positions, in stark contrast with the military-like, curt discipline displayed by the Aurors.

As silent as a ghost, Orion crept behind his father, casted a muting charm around them, and stood on his tip-toes. Then, he slowly wrapped one arm around the wizard's waist, in a way that couldn't be considered threatening, while he slid his other arm over the man's chest to be able to slap a hand on Sirius' mouth.

The wizard stiffened, but Orion whispered into his ear before the man had a chance to react, "It's me, Dad. I cannot tell you much now, but I need you to know that it's probable that Moody will interrogate you before the night is over, and possibly the Aurors as well. So ready yourself, use Occlumency, and remember that the mind web I casted on you will be of great help, so don't refuse to take Veritaserum if they request it. Whatever happens and whatever they say, you must keep acting as a loyal Order member and you must bemoan and condemn whatever I end up doing tonight, and you must act as a father desperate to save his son from Dark influences but also as someone who's starting to see that his son is in too deep and perhaps unsalvageable. That said, we'll meet at Lycaon a week from now – be sure that no one follows you. And, obviously, from now on you can't be seen going to Black Manor and you definitely can't attempt to reach me at Potter Manor. Above all else, I don't want Potter Manor to be discovered by anyone – Dark or Light. So don't send any letters at either manor, send them to Remus and I'll work out something with him to get them. Alright?"

Sirius nodded, looking a bit befuddled. Though the man then covertly placed a hand on Orion's arm, the one he had drabbed over the wizard's chest, and he gently squeezed. Orion briefly smiled, and whispered softly, "Take care, Dad. I'll see you in a week."

And with that, he swiftly released the man, cancelled the charm around them, casted a muting spell on his shoes, and finally rushed towards the staircase which led to the Astronomy Tower. Having seen the Aurors bouncing off when they had tried to enter while Snape and the other Death Eaters had encountered no obstacles, had made Orion realize that only someone baring the Dark Mark would be able to cross the barrier.

And now, knowing that he had mere minutes left -if not seconds- to save his past self, he dearly hoped that wearing the Black Heir ring would get him through the barrier. If not, he would have to find the nearest window and jump off with his broom and then fly to the Tower, but that would take him longer. Therefore, he tried his first option first and he tucked out his necklace from underneath his shirt and swiftly lifted up a hand to spear a finger through the Black Heir ring which dangled from the fine chain.

With his heart beating fast, he hurtled himself into the staircase, and immediately exhaled with relief when he wasn't bounced off. Taking two steps at a time, his footfalls muted and with himself still invisible, he dashed up along the spiraling stairway and at last stepped into the crenelated parapet of the Astronomy Tower. He instantly held up his breath, standing rock still, and took in the scene before him.

* * *

"Don't… you can't…" Dumbledore was weakly murmuring, who was slumped up against the ramparts, with a pained and scrunched expression on his pale, aged face.

And his past self was staring at the old man, grimacing, standing steps closer to Dumbledore than anyone else, with Snape and Draco lingering behind, observing, and the other Death Eaters getting increasingly jittery and impatient. That Orion aimed his wand at Dumbledore, his expression harsh, the green eyes turning cold with a glint of hatred and fury, and he parted his lips – and choked.

His other self's eyes widened, frenziedly side-glancing at Snape, and opened his mouth again, and spluttered and choked once more. Several expressions flickered across his other's self face; confusion, frantic alarm, and then horrified realization. Suddenly, his past-self's face twisted in agonizing pain, a scream tearing out from his throat, the green eyes rolling upwards, and body trembling, at the same time that he fell backwards, slumping against Snape.

All hell seemed to break loose, his past-self was endlessly screaming, his body convulsing while an outward explosion of magic blasted from him, black wisps of uncontrolled magic lashing outwards, wrecking the surrounding stone floors and walls, debris and shards flying everywhere, and his past-self didn't seem to be aware of any of it. The Death Eaters were crouching and protecting themselves with magical shields, Draco had a horrified and worried expression on his face as the boy held up his past-self with Snape's help. And Snape, with an alarmed frown on his face, was plucking out potions vials from his belt, now forcing open his past-self's mouth as he force-fed him a potion.

Orion finally snapped into action, and not moving from his spot, he quickly spread out his palms outwards. An expression of deep concentration spread over his features as he focused with all his might in summoning all his dark magic, making it rush out from his fingertips. In the midst of the confusing havoc, black waves of magic shot forwards, striking his past-self, and Orion forced it to plunge inside his past-self's chest, to mesh with that Orion's inner magical core. He saw his past-self's body suddenly jerking, as if struck by a ramming rod, as the magic violently seeped into him.

Waves upon waves of his pure and wild dark magic entered his past-self, and he saw his other's self body relaxing, the scream dying on his lips, the eyes rolling down and slowly gaining back focus… and he knew then that it was working. That his other-self's magic was now attacking the magic he had forced into his other-self instead of attacking the original magical core. The clashing forces of the Unbreakable Vow and the Life Debt were now striking that magic, leaving his other-self's inner magical core relatively unscathed. Nevertheless, his past-self would need to solve the problem soon, fulfilling the Life Debt, as he had done.

Still held up by Snape and Draco, his past-self mumbled something as another potion was forced down his throat, and then his past-self slowly gazed around, with a confused expression on his face. Orion knew that his other-self was searching for Gellert, believing that he had been helped by the wizard.

"What's happening to you?" demanded Snape. "Tell me or I can't help you!"

Abruptly, his past-self doubled over and coughed up spurts of blood, but Orion's attention wasn't riveted on him. He felt extremely weakened and exhausted since he was still channeling his black magic into his past-self, the waves of magic meshing with the tendrils that spiked and lashed out from his past-self's body, still destroying their surroundings. He wasn't worried about his presence being discovered by the Death Eaters, since the magic he poured outwards was merging with the uncontrolled magic of his past-self and it simply looked as if everything was coming out from his past-self. But there was someone who was realizing the truth.

Orion's attention was now completely focused on the old wizard who was sagging against the battlements of the Tower, Dumbledore's weakened gaze widening as it scanned the area. So Dumbledore suspected… Dumbledore knew… Dumbledore had felt him… and suddenly, everything started making sense… the strange words that Dumbledore had muttered, 'Ah, it's out of my grasp…What will you do with it, I wonder'... So he had done it, what he had considered doing now that he was back in the past, to take advantage of the situation since he doubted he could obtain it so easily afterwards… And Dumbledore had realized he had nicked it, the old wizard had known that there was a time-travelling Orion interfering with things… It was clear that the old wizard must have suspected him of having a time-turner; after all, he had used it constantly during the year. He had been very careful, but someone like Dumbledore was bound to suspect it, since the old man had known that Grindelwald was alive and under his care. Did the old man suspect that he had used the time-turner to have time to visit Grindelwald, to undergo training? Perhaps…

Dumbledore's gaze snapped back to the present Orion, and he said faintly, "Control it…You're out of control…"

Orion saw his past-self confusedly rounding on Dumbledore, before taking in their surroundings… tendrils of magic were still destroying the ramparts, the Death Eaters were still crouching and casting shields against incoming pieces of volleying stone… and suddenly, his past-self's eyes turned into glowing pits of blackness and everything settled down… his past-self was now forcing his inner magic to relax calmly inside of him and the storm of uncontrolled, flaring dark magic disappeared…

With an inward sigh of relief, Orion slumped against the wall, his legs threatening to buckle under him, and he closed his hands and stopped feeding his past-self with his magic. Now, he felt utterly drained and exhausted, he couldn't move an inch and every single muscle ached… He had overexerted himself and not an ounce of magic was left inside him for him to use… He calmed down his breath and entered a lulling, relaxing trance, knowing that he would need several minutes for his drained magical core to recharge itself with the magic carried in his blood, constantly pulsing in his veins…

"Kill the old man," said his past-self hoarsely, as he leaned on Draco who was wrapping an arm around the boy. "KILL HIM NOW!"

Orion simply observed how Snape's eyes slightly widened and his face paled, before the wizard's expression hardened and darkened, turning harsh and hateful, as the man aimed his wand at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's gaze flickered around… Was the old man looking for him? Was the old man waiting for him to do something? To help him? But, obviously, he didn't lift a finger and Dumbledore's expression turned grieving and sorrowful, as he focused back on Snape and murmured weakly, "Severus, no… no…"

Snape's face contorted with revulsion and fury, and he spat, "Avada Kedavra!"

And everything repeated itself for Orion, and he didn't do anything to stop it… He was tempted to prevent Bellatrix from harming his past-self, but he knew he couldn't… after all, no one had saved him from that and he knew why… He needed to hear all those things that Dumbledore had said to him… he needed to hear how Dumbledore had realized so much, how Slughorn had ordered the Goblins to send a letter to the old man, in the event of his death… how Dumbledore knew about the Aux and the Spirits… and all the rest… yes, in a way, that night hadn't been a failure because now he had the clues to find out more… so many little, yet vital things that he needed to make sense out of…

Therefore, he simply observed, in absolute silence and stillness, how his past-self jumped forward and shot out a sheet of black ice which protected Dumbledore from Snape's Killing Curse. The Death Eaters yelled angrily, and he did nothing when Bellatrix shrieked 'Traitor!' and casted a nonverbal curse at his past-self's back… and then, his past-self partly turned around, the yellow beam of light struck his left arm and his past-self staggered backwards against Dumbledore… Snape rushed forward, trying to grasp his past-self, but failed, and his past-self and Dumbledore toppled over the ramparts, into the free-fall, out of sight…

"Orion – NO!" shouted Draco, frantically reaching the ramparts' ledge, and seemingly with the intention to jump over.

Orion's eyes widened and he was about to rush forward and grasp his friend –being discovered be damned- but he halted when he saw Snape violently clutching Draco's scruff, pulling him back.

"What are you doing, you imbecile!" snarled Snape, jerking Draco around, a safe distance away from the battlements.

"He fell over!" gasped out Draco, pale-faced and staring at Snape with wide, frantic, silvery eyes. "They… they both… he was injured, he could die – let go off me!"

"And what were you planning to do?" spat Snape snidely. "Jump after him?"

"Yes, I can use my animagus form!" yelled Draco, furiously struggling against Snape's iron-clad clutch. "I can dive after him and get him before he hits the ground-"

"You haven't fully mastered your animagus form," snapped Snape, looking short-tempered and frazzled. "And Orion can take care of himself. He wasn't mortally wounded and he'll surely use his animagus form to save himself before crashing on the ground-"

"Ow, lil' nephew, don't worry," interjected Bellatrix, letting out a cackle of crazed and triumphant laughter as she approached the pair and leaned over the ramparts to squint down at the darkness bellow. "I also hope that the fall doesn't kill the half-blood, since I much prefer to see how the Dark Lord kills the brat!"

Draco jerked away from Snape's clutch and furiously rounded on her, aiming his wand at the witch. "Why did you attack him, Aunt?! He was trying to-"

"He's a traitor!" shrieked Bellatrix madly, darkly scowling at the boy, her lips twisted with disgust and hatred. "We all saw it! The filthy, little half-blood protected Dumbledore-"

"Idiotic witch, he wasn't betraying us," said Snape sharply, with a seething expression on his face.

"He stopped you and Draco from killing Dumbledore," spat Bellatrix, "and he shouldn't have. The Unbreakable Vow he took-"

"Exactly," snarled Snape furiously, narrowing his black eyes at her. "He was bounded by the Unbreakable Vow and he clearly tried to kill Dumbledore, but something prevented him from doing so. It's clear that he was being bound by something else-"

"Like what?!" demanded Bellatrix, bristling and hatefully glaring at the wizard.

Snape glowered at her with a murdering glint in his eyes, but said nothing. Orion was certain that he man had pieced it together by now. Surely the wizard suspected that there had been a Life Debt involved. Nevertheless, what had captured his attention were Draco's words. He hadn't known that his friend had been working on mastering an animagus form. He hadn't even known that Draco had the ability to become an animagus. Though it was obvious that Snape knew, and the wizard had probably been helping Draco with it.

"Enough of this pointless discussion," bit out Alecto commandingly, dusting off her robes from debris and small shards of stone. "The Dark Lord will be the one to determine if Lord Black's actions constitute treason." She rounded on Draco, and added curtly, "And you should be more concerned about yourself than about your friend. The Dark Lord will not be pleased by this mission's outcome."

Draco paled, and he stuttered out, "But I fixed the cabinet! And everything went as planned. You came through it and Dumbledore took the bait and came to the Tower, and then I was about to kill the old man-"

"But you didn't kill Dumbledore," interjected Amycus, taking his sister's side, harshly glaring at Draco. "You obeyed Lord Black when he asked you to let him do it." He let out a nervous, jittery chuckle. "Now we can only hope, for all our sakes, that Dumbledore's squashed body is lying dead on the grounds."

"Dumbledore isn't dead," said Snape flatly, with a closed expression on his face. "If the fall had killed him we would have known by now. We would have heard Fawkes' distraught and mourning cry for his master."

Alecto cursed under her breath, before she squared her shoulders and barked out, "Then we've failed and there's nothing we can do about it. We have to leave-"

"We can search for them!" interjected Draco vehemently. "We cannot leave Orion behind! And if Dumbledore is alive then I have another chance to kill him-"

"No, you had your chance already," bit out Alecto, angrily gazing at him. "One failure is enough. Our only concern now is to get out of Hogwarts, alive. The Dark Lord is expecting us to report soon and he'll be further displeased if one of us gets captured. Obviously, there aren't enough of us to take control of Hogwarts, given the number of Aurors and Order members we've encountered, and who must be, undoubtedly, waiting for us to come down. Our only priority is to escape and apparate to the Dark Lord's Manor as soon as we cross the school's gates, and that's exactly what we'll do. Now, we'll leave this place, ready to encounter the Aurors but we'll waste no time in killing them." She shot all of them a stern glance. "We are fleeing and if one of us doesn't make it, be certain that the Dark Lord will use the Dark Mark on your arm to torture you to insanity before you can blab anything if you're captured."

Orion's eyes grew large, his mind frenziedly working out what those last words meant for Draco, since he hadn't known that Voldemort could use the Dark Mark on his Death Eaters to torture them to such a degree - being able, through it, to wreck apart one of his minion's mind? He had obviously considered that Voldemort would make Draco feel pain through the Mark, but not this. This didn't bode well for Draco, not at all. And once again he was reminded that he didn't know in what condition Draco would be after the night was over. He had saved Draco, he had snatched the boy from underneath Voldemort's nose - he had no doubt about it. But he remembered how mangled the boy's body had looked, how the silvery eyes had rolled upwards, the pupils completely dilated, the face scrunched in agonizing pain, then the expression turning slack and empty… Something lodged in his throat and his chest constricted with frenzied worry… His most important task was to save Draco, it had been his main reason for travelling back through time, and now he realized that he didn't have much time left. There were still two things he had to do before getting to Riddle Manor, and his mind was quickly trying to plan how he would manage it…

"Fenrir," suddenly said Alecto, and Orion's attention focused back on them, seeing how all the Death Eaters were getting ready to hurtle down the staircase which led out from the Astronomy Tower, "it would greatly help us if you changed."

Greyback shot her a feral smirk, nodding, and tucking his wand inside his black pant's pocket. And before Orion's shocked eyes, the man started to transform; limbs cracking, shifting and lengthening, mouth turning into a long snout filled with razor-sharp fangs, long nails extending to claws, silver fur sprouting from the skin... And before he knew it, Greyback had fully transformed into a werewolf; on a non-full-moon night.

Snape and Draco seemed as startled and shocked as he was, though Snape also had a grave, pensive frown on his face –wheels undoubtedly churning inside that sharp mind- and Draco looked quite horrified.

Then everyone seemed to snap into action. The Death Eaters rushed into the staircase, wands aimed and ready, a full-transformed werewolf hurtling and snarling behind them, and Snape was running down the steps, clutching Draco securely by his side. And without another hitch of breath, Orion ran after them, as his mind quickly pondered what he should do next. Saving Draco was his priority, but he knew he still had about fifteen minutes or so before the Death Eaters managed to flee and apparate away. Thus, he had to decide how to best utilize that time.

He was highly tempted to reach Dumbledore and his other-self, to prevent Dumbledore from being rescued and snatched away by Fawkes, to perhaps kill the old man and get the Elder wand…doing it, somehow, without his other-self noticing… or perhaps he could somehow clutch Dumbledore's arm in the instant that Fawkes had apparated them away in a blazing explosion of fire… By clutching Dumbledore's arm, would he also be included in that apparition, or would he be splinched? Should he risk it? If it worked, he would be able to see if Dumbledore had made it out alive, if the Killing Curse had struck him in time or not, and he would be able to take the Elder Wand, since he was ready to duel and kill the old man if he had lived… But, where would he find himself and how would he get back in time to portkey to Riddle Manor to save Draco? He couldn't use the time-turner a second time, it was made so that no one could travel twice back to the same time, so that there would be no further overlappings… Furthermore, if he went after Dumbledore, then he wouldn't have an opportunity to do anything else…

And he knew that he had done something about Greyback… Bellatrix had told him that the man hadn't made it out from Hogwarts and the werewolf hadn't appeared in Riddle Manor. Greyback had disappeared and he knew that he was involved in it… Besides that, there were two other things he could do. Given Dumbledore's muttered words, he had obtained something… Yes, he had to do that, since he doubted he would have a better chance of getting his hands on it. After that night, Hogwarts would be greatly protected and he wouldn't be able to easily break in. On the other hand, according to what Draco had told him, Voldemort's first step to control wizarding England would be to take hold of Hogwarts. And if Voldemort succeeded, then the man would have access to two things, precisely the objects Orion was debating on which to take: Ravenclaw's tiara or Gryffindor's sword.

He hoped he would have the time to take both, but he doubted it. And he had to decide which was more important. Ravenclaw's tiara was still one of Voldemort's original horcruxes, and it would be vastly advantageous for it to be in his hands, in case he ever needed to threaten Voldemort with the destruction of one of his horcruxes. Furthermore, if Voldemort had access to it, would the wizard hide it someplace else? If he ever needed to gather all the horcruxes, to have something to threat Voldemort with, then he should get the tiara, now that he could. It would be much harder to get it later, when Hogwarts was either controlled by Voldemort or heavily protected by Aurors.

On the other hand, he already had a horcrux in his power –his Slytherin wedding ring- and despite what he saw in his visions, he didn't like the idea of starting to gather the rest of the horcruxes for the sole intention of utterly destroying Voldemort. Surely things between Voldemort and him wouldn't wither to such a degree… But they could, he couldn't keep fooling himself… Nevertheless, if worse came to worse, he would surely find a way to get his hands on Ravenclaw's tiara. And at present, it was safe from Dumbledore and other light wizards since it was obvious that no one knew that it was in the Room of Requirements. If Dumbledore had known about the tiara, then the man wouldn't have gone horcrux-hunting to the cave; the tiara would have been destroyed ages ago. Therefore, Dumbledore certainly didn't know about it, nor had he told anyone else.

Therefore, getting Gryffindor's sword should be his priority. It could be used to destroy horcruxes, but he had no need for that –not at present. And if he ever had a reason to do so, a horcrux could also be destroyed with basilisk poison. And even though it was very difficult to find a place which sold it, he could always surreptitiously break into Hogwarts and get to the Chamber of Secrets and ask Orssana to give him some of her poison. Indeed, Gryffindor's sword wasn't that useful to him, but there was a prime reason for him to want it. If it fell into Voldemort's hands, then -given the wizard's fascination for the Founders' heirlooms- it was highly likely that the wizard would turn the sword into a horcrux. And that was definitely something he didn't want to happen.

Indeed, in the minutes he had left, obtaining Gryffindor's sword would be his priority. And if he had the time, then he would get the tiara afterwards. And just when he finally made up his mind, the group of Death Eaters hurtled out from the stairway into the sixth floor corridor, and a fierce battle instantly erupted, and Orion flattened himself against a wall, quickly deciding what to do while he observed.

The Death Eaters were outnumbered even more than before; Minerva McGonagall and a bunch of other teachers had finally joined the Auror and Order forces, surely after insuring that all students were safe in their common rooms. The Carrow siblings were in full-battle mode, back-to-back, while they shot a volley of curses right, left and center, but it was obvious that they weren't trying to kill anyone, just disable in order to create a wedge through which to escape. Bellatrix and Greyback seemed to be the ones more disposed to create as much damage as they were able to, while Snape was dragging Draco with him, running as fast as they could through the tumultuous crowd of fighting wizards and witches.

Though, something was plainly obvious to Orion. The Light's forces, given their numbers, could have immediately dispatched the Death Eaters. Indeed, the Aurors could have killed them before – before they even had the chance to go up the Astronomy Tower. It was clear to him now that they didn't have orders to kill Death Eaters, but to capture them without mortally injuring them. And as had happened before, this gave the Death Eaters an advantage over their enemies.

"Let Snape and the boy through!" roared Shacklebot, as he flung a curse at Bellatrix. "Don't aim at them!"

Orion shook his head as he caught sight of every light wizard and witch obeying. They still thought that Snape was on their side. They probably believed that Snape had snatched Draco and was now trying to kidnap the boy in order to take him to the Order's Headquarters… And he understood why they believed this. When Snape had made him enter his mind to see the memories and explain Dumbledore's plans, the wizard had told him that the old man was planning on taking Draco to the Order – both to protect the boy and surely to get information from him about Voldemort's war-plans. And it was certain that Dumbledore had told Shacklebot and the rest of the Order members about his scheme concerning Draco.

Indeed, Snape and Draco were now reaching the end of the corridor, having safely ran through the crowd of dueling people without a scratch on them. Orion inwardly sighed with relief and flung himself off the wall, ready to proceed with his plans. He still felt exhausted, his body aching, his muscles sore, but he no longer felt magically drained. He had rested and spent enough time without casting and using his magic. Therefore, he could spring back into action. He was about to run down the corridor, to make it to Dumbledore's office with the single-minded purpose of obtaining Gryffindor's sword, when a distressed cry resounded above all other yells.

And for a fraction of a second, he paused as he caught sight of what had happened. A few feet away from him, a silver-furred werewolf was sinking his claws into Bill Weasley's cheek. Large wedges were carved on the young wizard's handsome face, copious blood spurting from the long slashes, as Bill screamed in pain and quickly shot a curse at Greyback. The werewolf momentarily staggered backwards, but then, apparently unscathed, the creature snarled and leaped forward again, claws aimed at Bill's face and fangs directed at the young wizard's throat.

Orion's heart leaped to his throat when another wizard jumped in between them, pushing Bill away from harm's way, shouting furiously – his father. And he didn't think about it twice, and he propelled himself into action. Just when Greyback rounded on Sirius, snapping his jaw inches away from the wizard's throat, Orion slammed himself against the werewolf. With an inward sigh of relief, he saw his father hurtling backwards, and then standing up with a confused expression on his face, before immediately reaching Bill, trying to ascertain the severity of the young wizard's wounds. Meanwhile, Orion had instantly shot a full-body bind at the werewolf, surely having taken the man by surprise, and he swiftly casted a disillusionment charm on him, finally remembering that he had to deal with Greyback first, before going in search of Gryffindor's sword.

The now invisible and bounded werewolf was snarling viciously, trying to free himself. Nevertheless, Orion could see through the disillusionment charm, the werewolf's form shimmering before him, and he wasted no time in flicking his wand at the creature. The bounded werewolf was suspended in mid-air, and Orion stood up, wand still aimed at Greyback, as he quickly ran into the nearest door he could find, the spell he was maintaining on the werewolf forcing the body to follow him. As soon they got inside the empty classroom, Orion closed the door and cancelled the spells on Greyback and then the parsel-invisibility spell he had casted on himself a long while ago.

The silver-furred werewolf instantly jumped to his feet, snarling at him, yet those golden eyes recognized him. It was obvious to Orion that however Greyback had managed to transform into a werewolf during a non-full-moon night, the wizard was still himself and not a mindlessly violent creature like transformed werewolves were supposed to be.

"That was my father you were about to maul, Greyback," spat Orion angrily, narrowing his eyes at the werewolf, wand still aimed at him.

The werewolf growled, taking a quick step forward, and snapped his jaws inches away from Orion's face.

Instinctively, Orion took a step back, but then he instantly dug his wand's tip into the creature's furred neck, and said sharply, "Truly try to bite me and I will not doubt to shoot a Killing Curse at you. I have no wish to be bitten and infected. Now, change back. I need to speak to you."

Greyback didn't move an inch, the golden eyes narrowing suspiciously and furiously at him, and Orion sighed with irritated exasperation and quickly parted his robes to dig a hand into his trouser's pocket. He grasped the tiny earring he had been carrying around ever since obtaining it, and he spread out his palm to show it to the werewolf.

The creature's golden gaze instantly focused on it, and in the bat of an eyelash, Greyback transformed back and swiftly took the tiny, half-moon earring from Orion's hand, intently inspecting it.

"This is Sharpfang's," growled Greyback, his golden eyes snapping upwards to gaze suspiciously at Orion. "Why do you have it-"

"Connolly gave it to me," interrupted Orion promptly, "so that you would know that I'm doing this in his behalf." He pierced the wizard with his eyes, and added dourly, "It seems that they need you back in Lycaon. Your former pack, the werewolves you had sired, want you to be with them. Connolly told me about you and Remus and the whole mate-issue, and I agreed to do something about it – namely, to get you to Lycaon so that you could solve matters between Remus and you." He narrowed his eyes at him, and added sharply, "But make no mistake. I don't like you and I certainly don't trust you. I'm doing this because I know that in the end you're supposed to be with Remus, given that you're his first mate and all that stuff. But if I see or hear that you harm him in any way or that you attempt to steal from him the position of the Alpha of the packs, then I'll kill you. Remus has gone a long way and he's the Alpha now, and damn good at it-"

"I don't need to steal that position from him," growled Greyback, with an angry and possessive glint in his eyes. "I'm an Alpha and Remus is my mate, and as such we'll lead the packs jointly, as mated Alphas have done throughout history. And I'll make sure to make matters perfectly clear to my wayward mate-"

"You do that, but don't you dare hurt him in any way," hissed out Orion, narrowing his eyes at him. "I know what you did to him, that you raped him when he was ten years old-"

"HE'S MY MATE!" snarled Greyback furiously. "I found him and I turned him as any werewolf would have done in my place-"

"I don't give a flying gnat about the paltry excuses you've made up to justify it!" spat Orion incensed, digging his wand's tip deeper into the wizard's neck. "Don't you ever try to force yourself on Remus again! I'm not going to assist you to get to Lycaon just for you to make his life a living hell, as you've evidently always done. And I don't care how much you've suffered without your mate or how much your inner creature influences you when dealing with Remus, you will not act like a brutish mutt in heat – that's no way of ingratiating yourself with Remus. You'll have to change your tactics. Connolly told me how you treated Remus when he went back to you, to spy on you under Dumbledore's orders. You kept forcing him to accept you – you kept raping him even when you knew that he was only there because of Dumbledore and not because he truly wanted you. And the subsequent increase in his hatred towards you should have made it perfectly clear, shouldn't it? He'll never accept you unless you gain his trust and affection, and there's no way you'll succeed in that if you don't control yourself around him!"

"And you speak from personal experience, do you, boy?" snarled Greyback, his golden eyes flashing with fierce anger. "You know nothing about werewolves, how we act with our mates, or how our inner wolf affects and determines our behavior-"

"But I know Remus," interrupted Orion curtly, "and being forceful with him is counterproductive. From the start you've treated him as someone who should submissively accept his role as your mate and you never tried to earn his affection! I bet that you thought he would instinctively accept you as his mate, longing for you, but you forget one thing; he was a child when you bit him and you certainly traumatized him, and no one was there to tell him about mates and werewolves. And then he was brought up like a light wizard, when he went to Hogwarts. He found friends who accepted him, even when he despised himself. And when he lost his friends and went back to you to spy, you gave him more reason to hate you and his werewolf condition by forcing yourself on him – again! Now, he embraces his inner wolf –it's clear for everyone to see- and he's become a great leader but you could wreck it all if you act as you've always done with him. The only way you'll succeed is if you take it slowly."

Greyback narrowed his eyes at him, and growled sneeringly, "Let's hear it, oh wise one, how should I treat him, then?"

"For Merlin's sake, must I spell it out for you?" snapped Orion with exasperation. "Woo him, court him, treat him like a wizard and not as someone who has no other choice but accept to be your mate. Be gentle-"

"Gentle?" interrupted Greyback with a disgusted expression on his face. "I'm not gentle, boy! Werewolves are not-"

"Oh, but you will have to learn to be gentle with him," interjected Orion, nastily smirking at him. "Indeed, you'll have to behave like a tamed werewolf. Surely you can do that, Greyback. How difficult can it be to play nice with your mate? If you need him so desperately, then you'll have to try your best, won't you? You have to redeem yourself in his eyes, you'll have to beg for forgiveness after everything you've done to him. Say it with words, say it with actions, I don't care, just do it. Simply, for once in your life, work to gain his affection, since he'll surely won't accept you until you do so."

He pierced the wizard with his eyes, and added sharply, "And that means that you'll have to take it slow, that you'll have to calmly discuss matters with him, and that you'll have to restrain yourself and never attempt to shag him until he's ready and asks for it himself! If I have the slightest suspicion that you've taken him against his will and that you've hurt him in any other way, I'll find you and I'll kill you. And I'll rejoice because you might be his first mate but I know that once you're dead he'll find another mate. And he or she will surely treat him better than you have so far. This is your one and only chance to do things right. Got it?"

Greyback pierced him with enraged, narrowed eyes, and he snarled, "You dare threaten me-"

"Of course I do," scoffed Orion impatiently. "I couldn't care less about you. I care about Remus and, unfortunately, you're his first mate. That's why I'm doing this. That, and because I know that Lycaon's packs will be more powerful with you as their co-Alpha, and I want my allies to be as strong as they can. Now, let's cut through the crap, we've wasted enough time. If you want to get to Lycaon, and if you want a chance with your mate, you'll have to obey everything I've told you. So, do you agree?"

"Yes," growled Greyback reluctantly, looking as if he was still seething with anger, yet the werewolf said nothing else.

"Good," said Orion, smugly smirking at him as he lowered his wand.

Greyback shot him a lethal glare, and demanded crisply, "How are you going to take me to Lycaon?"

"Give me a second," said Orion absent-mindedly, while he unclasped his necklace from his neck. He quickly freed the Black Heir ring from the chain, pocketing it, and then offered to Greyback the chain with the remaining pendant –which was shaped as a dog, wolf, and stag, huddled together.

"Remus gave me this on Christmas," explained Orion. "It's a portkey to Lycaon. Remus will not be expecting you, so I suggest you find Connolly first and talk to him, before attempting to see Remus." He wryly smiled at the man. "Connolly will surely tell you further how to best approach your mate without making him hate you more."

Greyback yanked the necklace from Orion's hands, and growled under his breath, "I don't need further help to know how to deal with my mate." He pierced him with his eyes, and added sharply, "I'll heed your advice, boy, but only because I want my recalcitrant mate to accept me once and for all, not because I'm submitting to your orders." He narrowed his eyes, and said scathingly, "I dislike you too, and I certainly don't care who you are, and even less that everyone's suddenly calling you 'Lord Black' and rolling over when you say so. I'm doing this for my mate."

Orion rolled his eyes, and snorted, "Point taken. And I expect to have my necklace returned to me. Send it to me by owl to Black Manor the moment you reach Lycaon – I still need that portkey."

He flicked his wand at himself as he hissed the words of the parsel-invisibility spell, before he said as an after-thought, "Oh, and the keyword to activate the portkey is Padfoot."

Greyback nodded, and then a large smirk spread over his curling lips. "So this is how you've been prancing around undetected? What I wonder now is how you're here with me when I saw you toppling over the ledge of the Astronomy Tower…" His smirk suddenly spread wider, and he took a step forward to whisper with smug satisfaction. "Oh, there are two of you, aren't they? I thought I had gotten a whiff of your scent when we were back there fighting-"

"Yeah, yeah, but you better not say a word about this," snapped Orion. "And I'm not about to tell you how I'm doing it, so don't even ask."

He saw how the wizard's nostrils were now flaring and sniffing, though the golden eyes weren't completely focusing at the right spot. Greyback might be able to smell him but he certainly couldn't see through the parsel-invisibility spell.

Orion swiftly opened the door, but then he halted and gazed over his shoulder at the man. "How are you able to transform if it's not a full moon night?"

"A couple of months ago, the Dark Lord finished creating a new potion he had been working on for some time," replied Greyback gruffly, as he pushed through the threshold, knocking Orion to a side. "He's planning on making it accessible to all werewolves on his side, so that we can transform whenever we want and thus battle in our strongest form. He's soon going to offer it to the Alphas of the packs in continental Europe."

Orion grasped the man's arm, his fingers tensing jerkily around the muscled and bare limb, and he hissed out, "Are you sure about this? Through Remus, the other Alphas accepted to support me. The werewolves are my allies, not Voldemort's."

"Well, then it seems that the Dark Lord is trying to steal your allies away from you, doesn't it?" sneered Greyback maliciously. Then he growled, his tone of voice gruff and reluctant, "Fear not, I'm sure Remus will not abandon your side, no matter what the Dark Lord offers. My mate seems to be blindly loyal to you. He seems to feel an inexplicable attachment and fondness for you – why, I don't know. You've certainly always been an arrogant, disrespectful, nosy, little brat. And if it wouldn't cause grief to my mate, I would gladly kill you and take great pleasure in it. Or at least bite you, so that you're equally loyal to my packs, as they apparently are to you."

And with that, the wizard swiftly transformed back into a werewolf and pelted down the corridor. Orion stared at him, seething with anger at Voldemort's underhanded machinations, but he soon casted it to a side for later perusal when he saw that the corridor was now empty. And he shot after Greyback, the sounds of a distant battle soon reaching his ears. It was obvious that the fray had moved closer to Hogwart's entrance, as the Death Eaters made their escape.

With the silver-furred werewolf running a few feet ahead of him, Orion rushed down staircases and corridors, also aiming to reach the main hall, since he had to go through there in order to then take another stairway to reach Dumbledore's office. Finally, both of them took a turn and entered the main hall, where a full battle was taking place.

Orion glanced at the werewolf by his side, and warned threateningly, "Don't attack my father again, Greyback." He grimaced, and added wryly, "Don't attack Bill Weasley either, since it seems that my father is bent on protecting him."

The werewolf snarled, and jumped forward into the fight, and Orion didn't quite know if the man would do as he had said. Nevertheless, he had other things to attend to, so he started to swiftly make his way around the battle, to reach the staircase which would most quickly lead him to Dumbledore's office. Suddenly, he paused when he caught sight of someone attempting to surreptitiously leave the hallway and trudge up along a staircase.

It was Luna, and suddenly, when a ricocheting spell careened towards her, Orion flicked his wand at her, his heart beating fast in alarm. Thankfully, the shield charm glowed above her head just in time. And Luna merely blinked upwards at the shimmering sheet of silver light which had saved her. Her expression was one of curious acceptance and she smiled absent-mindedly, before she quickly took several steps up and disappeared from sight. It was clear to him that she had gone to investigate the battle, surely looking for him, and that she was now making her way to Gryffindor Tower, to see if she would find him. It was also clear to him, that she had thought that the nargles or some such non-existent creature had just saved her from the curse that would have otherwise obliterated her. Or perhaps she had realized the truth… even for a Ravenclaw, the girl was amazingly perceptive with the most perplexing things…

He shook his head, and took a second to gauge the battle before him. Greyback, in his werewolf form, was now leaping at Moody –thankfully, it seemed that he would leave his father and Bill Weasley alone. The rest of the light wizards were huddled along the front oak doors, 'Slughorn' included, who was obviously waiting to reveal his true allegiances, and they were forming a barrier to prevent the Death Eaters from escaping. Snape had Draco flattened against a wall, doing nothing but casting protective shields around them, and otherwise not involving himself in the fray. But it was obvious that the moment Snape fled from the castle, dragging Draco with him, and following the Death Eaters out instead of taking Draco to wherever the Order's Headquarters was located, the Aurors would know that Snape had betrayed them. And, as he already knew, Cedric and others would try to stop Snape and Draco from escaping. But for now, the Aurors still believed that Snape was on their side, since no one was attacking the pair. Meanwhile, the rest of the Death Eaters were trying to blast away all the light wizards from the school's front doors, in order to rush outside as soon as possible.

Seeing that, Orion's heart lodged in his throat and he quickly checked his wristwatch - and paled. He had wasted too much time in talking to Greyback, giving relationship advice of all ridiculous things! Who was he to give relationship advice to begin with, his own 'love life' was pretty messed up and chaotic, for starters. What had he been thinking?! Well, in Remus' wellbeing, that's what. But, obviously, but those wasted minutes meant that he didn't have a second to spare.

His other self was surely outside, still listening to what Dumbledore had to say. But he remembered clearly the wail-like sound that had reverberated through the grounds, and seeing the castle's walls shaking, before Dumbledore had muttered about 'it being out of his grasp'… And that would surely happen in a few more minutes, since after that, they had talked for a bit longer and he had finally attempted to accio the Elder Wand... just when the school's front doors had been blasted open, and the Carrows had rushed out, followed by Bellatrix, and then Snape and Draco, with Cedric and others giving them chase… And Greyback had surely stayed behind, dueling with Moody for a bit, before using the pendant to portkey away, probably seconds before his other-self shot the Killing Curse at Dumbledore, since Moody had said that he had been fighting against Greyback at that time, and that he had seen Dumbledore and him through the school's walls …

Therefore… Orion's heartbeat accelerated… Therefore, that meant he had just minutes left to get his hands on Gryffindor's sword… He didn't take a second hitch of breath, and he swiftly transformed into Blackwing, not sparing a second glance at the battle before him. And he soared up, and flew with every ounce of energy he had left… Corridors and staircases flashed by, and he believed that he had never flown as quickly or frantically in all his life… He simply batted his wings as fast and continuously as he could, swerving, diving, and twisting, and in a few moments, he finally reached the stone gargoyle.

He swiftly transformed back to himself, and snapped out the same password he had previously used hours ago. The gargoyle shifted to a side, revealing the entrance to the spiraling staircase, and Orion rushed up and instantly flicked his wand at the office's door, blasting it open. He hurtled himself forward, and the moment he stepped inside he flicked his wand and froze all the portraits in their frames – no former Headmaster or Headmistress would even know what had hit them. Suddenly, he heard Fawkes squawking, but he didn't spare the bird a second glance. He knew that he could not prevent Fawkes from apparating Dumbledore away, because he had no way of killing the magical creature. Even if he shot a Killing Curse at him, Fawkes would simply be reborn from his ashes.

Though, it was curious that the Phoenix was simply intently eyeing him, as he rushed before the glass case which held Gryffindor's sword. Since he was now aiming his wand at the case, surely his intentions were clear to Fawkes, but apparently the bird didn't feel inclined to do anything about it… There were few things that he knew about a phoenix who agreed to become a wizard's familiar, and one of those was that the magical creature could communicate mind-to-mind with the wizard or witch he accepted to be bounded to… Therefore, Dumbledore had to know that he was there, and since Fawkes was doing nothing to stop him, it could only mean that Dumbledore wanted him to get the sword…

Orion gritted his teeth together in anger. It didn't matter. Whatever Dumbledore's schemes were, whatever the wizard hoped he would use the sword for in the future – which was pretty obvious, to destroy the damned horcruxes!- he was now going to get the sword, and he didn't need to be surreptitious about it.

Therefore, given his urgency, he simply slapped a palm on the stone wall in which the glass case was embedded, and he forced his dark magic to rush out, violently, urgently, and certainly without any worries about the damage it could cause and the evidence that would be left behind. He didn't have time to do things covertly, and Dumbledore already knew, after all. Immediately, his dark magic flew outwards, obeying his orders as he willed it to crack the stones surrounding the glass case. A strepitous sound crashed in his ears, as the stone walls shook and cracked, pieces falling to the floor, and in the next second, the glass panes of the embedded case fractured and splintered, and then shards exploded outwards.

Orion didn't even wince when some sunk into his face, he simply keep pouring out his dark magic. Abruptly, a wail-like, painfully loud siren pierced the silence and the walls violently shook, as the glass case was finally blasted apart, without any stone wall left to support it. Now, that part of the office was wrecked open, and Orion could see the black skies and the darkened grounds bellow.

There was a clinking sound, and his gaze snapped down and landed on the sword that had clashed to the ground. He instantly crouched down and swiftly grasped it in his hands. Suddenly, Fawkes squawked, and Orion shot him a glance over his shoulder. The bird was piercingly staring at him, flapping his fiery wings, but the creature did nothing else. Then, he finally realized something; Fawkes was staring right at him – the creature could see through his parsel-invisibility spell.

Orion darkly glared at the bird. He was certainly starting to deeply dislike Fawkes, but not phoenixes in general, of course. He always felt a deep attachment towards his phoenix patronus, after all. But Fawkes was another matter entirely. The damned bird was loyal to Dumbledore and had possibly saved the old coot from the Killing Curse, and even probably given the old man his tears to annul the effects of the Tormentis Memoratum poison which would have otherwise killed the wizard, if the Avada Kedavra hadn't.

Wasting no more time, he flicked his wand at the sword – but nothing happened. Orion blinked. He had shot at it a nonverbal shrinking charm, but the sword hadn't been affected. Grumbling under his breath, he plucked out his shrunk trunk from his pocket, laid it on the floor, and flicked his wand at it. The moment it reversed to its original size, he yanked the lid open and started to place the sword inside; he would then shrink the trunk and be done with it. Surely the sword would shrink as well, once inside, since all the other stuff always accommodated in size when lying inside a recipient which was shrunk. But, to his great irritation, the sword was too long, it didn't fit. He tried every angle and position he could think of, yet, it was finally evident that the sword wouldn't fit. Next, he proceeded to enlarge the trunk and try again, but, inexplicably, every time he tried to force the sword inside, it just wouldn't budge.

Orion cursed under his breath, exasperated and irritated beyond measure. Who had been the idiot who had spelled the sword so that it couldn't be packed?! Well, that explained why Dumbledore had kept it magically suspended inside a glass case, instead of shoving it inside a large desk drawer or the like… He spent several minutes casting spell after spell at the sword, trying to find out how to cancel the charm on it.

Suddenly, Fawkes loudly squawked and Orion glanced up to see the bird encompassed in a ball of fire, and in the next second, it was gone. Orion's jaw clenched – the damned creature had just been summoned by Dumbledore, there wasn't any doubt about it, and the bird was surely now taking the old man away in a blazing explosion of fire, the Elder Wand included.

He gritted his teeth together, and glanced at the sword in his hand, fleetingly feeling a modicum of despair. He couldn't go around holding the sword, it would be highly inconvenient since he still had to get to Riddle Manor and take Draco away. On the other hand, he couldn't leave the sword here, nor did he have the time to find a proper hiding place for it. No, he had to take it with him… Yet, it couldn't be shrunk, forced into the trunk, or otherwise transformed into something else. But surely Gryffindor himself hadn't strut around always with the sword in hand, without being able to carry it in some other way…

Orion narrowed his eyes at the irritating sword, gauging it for a second, and finally, he tried a measure of last resort. He briefly concentrated, picturing the item in his mind, and then flicked his wand, conjuring it. Immediately, a long, leather scabbard popped into existence in his hand; it was simple, just with a long strap that could be looped across his chest, leaving the sheath at his back. Holding in a breath, he angled the sword's tip to the scabbard's opening, and then pushed it inside… and it slid in without a glitch.

He let out an exhalation of breath, finished sheathing the sword, covered its handle with the scabbard's flap, and casted a spell, tying and bounding sword to sheath. He didn't even try to make the sword invisible, he doubted it would work, but he didn't need to since the scabbard was now utterly covering the sword. So he simply flicked his wand at it and hissed out the parsel-invisibility spell, and the scabbard disappeared from his sight, leaving nothing of the sword to be seen.

Finally, he looped the invisible strap across his chest, and felt the heavy weight of the sword on his back. It would still inconvenience him, restricting his movements, but he could come up with no better solution, and he definitely didn't have the time to keep dawdling with it. Orion glanced at his open trunk, and paused pensively. Quickly making up his mind, he brought up the Invisibility Cloak from its depth and stuck it in the largest pocket of his robes, before he flicked his wand, shrunk the trunk, and pocketed it as well.

His gaze scanned his surroundings, making sure he didn't leave anything behind, and then he aimed his wand forward, and said hastily, "Vanquio meuprintus!"

A mantle of magic swept down the office, erasing any trace of the use of his magic, and that was the only measure he would take to disguise that he had been there. The wall where the glass case had once been was utterly destroyed, part of the office opened to the outside, but he certainly had no reason, inclination, or time to repair it. Let the Aurors wonder what had happened, they could suspect, but they wouldn't have evidence to acclaim that it had been him, anyway.

At last, Orion checked his wristwatch for what seemed the umpteenth time during that night, and he realized that the Death Eaters must have apparated to Riddle Manor by now. Suddenly, just when he was considering to take a chance and attempt to get Ravenclaw's tiara, a rushing of feet and alarmed voices echoed and came through the blasted door of Dumbledore's office, and he could discern the commanding voice which was barking out orders – Scrimgeour's. Merlin, had he taken that long? The Minister was already there, making his way up the spiraling staircase, with a large entourage of Aurors, by the sound of it. Any ideas of getting the tiara vanished from his mind, and he rushed to ledge of what was left of the office's floor. And without thinking about it twice, he jumped into the abyss, just when he heard Scrimgeour's appalled yell – no doubt regarding the destruction of what had once been the office of Hogwarts' ruling headmaster, room in the highest tower of the school, which now precariously teetered and swayed on the castle's foundations.

In the next second, Orion transformed into Firebreath. But, abruptly, all breath left his lungs and he was momentarily choked as the scabbard's strap dug into his now larger and scaled chest. He should have known that Gryffindor's sword wouldn't go along his animagus transformation, as the rest of his clothes and things he had with him did. Nevertheless, the scabbard magically bounded to the sword seemed to hold, and even if he had difficulty breathing, he kept soaring into the skies, only diving down when he passed Hogwarts' gates.

The instant his clawed paws touched ground, he transformed back, checked that everything still remained invisible, himself included, and he casted a muting charm on his shoes and took out the Invisibility Cloak. Once done, he plucked out the Black Heir ring from his pocket and tapped it with his wand's tip. Afterwards, he swiftly jerked his wrist, making his wand shoot up underneath his sleeve and tuck itself safely inside the wand-holster strapped around his forearm.

In the bat of an eyelash, the portkey activated and he was thrown into a whirlwind of rushing colors, the pressure mounting uncomfortably around his exhausted, aching body. He sincerely didn't think he had much energy left inside him. It had been the longest and most complex day of his life, always worrying about making a mistake which could irrevocably alter the timeline, with unknown yet surely devastating consequences… He just wanted to rescue Draco, get the hell out, and sleep… yes, he wanted to sleep forever, if he could…

But then, his feet silently landed on hard, stone floors, and Orion armed himself with valor, determination, and the last ounce of energy left in him, and he glanced around his new, dimly lit surroundings.


	23. Saving Draco

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Hello everyone, I'm finally back! For those who didn't know, I was in a car accident and I've spent the last month in a hospital bed. I had a friend post this news on the Yahoo Group but I know that many of you don't check it. Regrettably, I didn't have any other way of letting you know, since I didn't have Internet access in my hospital room. Anyway, it's been a hellish month for me and I was released about five days ago, but I've been very busy catching up with my studies since I missed a lot of classes and I have finals coming up in a month and a half *whimpers*. Thankfully, I mostly studied when I was in the hospital, since I had nothing else to do, so I'm not that unprepared.

I'm writing much slower than before since my whole right arm is in a cast; it broke in three places *grimaces* though it doesn't hurt any longer since I'm taking pain-killers, which make me kind of drowsily high. It's damn hilarious when it happens *sniggers* And you should see my arm, only my fingertips show and I sluggishly punch a keyboard key every thirty seconds, it's really funny. Well, it's funny now that the pain is gone and that I know that I was very lucky. My doctor was afraid that my spinal column had suffered permanent and serious damage, but it hasn't, not really. I have three herniated discs, and those who know what that's like you'll surely know that it's extremely painful, but thankfully the physiotherapy paid off and now I don't even notice anything. There's a bunch of stuff I can no longer do, like high-impact sports and bungee jumping and stuff like that, and it depressed me for a while, knowing that I could never do a bunch of things, but now I'm cheerful again because I'm reminded every day that I should simply be thankful of being alive without any serious life-altering injuries. And when I finally read all your reviews and the 'get well' messages on the Yahoo Group, my spirits were uplifted *grins* Thank you very much for that!

So, in short, I'm back to writing though I won't be posting as fast as I would like since I have to concentrate on my studies. But, I'm continuing this story to its conclusion and I'll make it as long and detailed as I see fit, as the majority of you suggested *smiles* And it will take me even longer to write because I have to reread much of my story since I simply forgot many of the details *sniggers* So I would really appreciate it if you tell me of any inconsistencies you detect in the chapters to come.

Now, everything is well, all is jolly and summer is coming soon! *grins* So enjoy your day and, hopefully, this chapter too!

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Orion's gaze scanned the area, a worried frown spreading on his forehead while he made himself breathe as slowly and quietly as possible. He was back at Riddle Manor's summoning chamber, filled with silver or black-masked Death Eaters, but he had arrived at a much later time than before.

Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed that there was someone else with them. Unlike apparations, traveling by portkey was soundless, and he couldn't be seen –not even by Voldemort- since he was under the parsel-invisibility spell. Moreover, before arriving he had also casted a muting charm on his shoes, so even if he took some steps, no one would be the wiser. What worried him was whether Voldemort would sense his presence.

He doubted it, since his dark magical aura was being suppressed by the potion he daily imbibed, and which he had taken that day, hours later than usual, but still just on time. Nevertheless, even if his magic couldn't be sensed by others, Voldemort could perhaps still feel the link between them; the connection which had been forged between their minds the moment Voldemort had unwittingly made him his horcrux. Though, as always, he had his Occlumency barriers fully raised. Moreover, the last time he had been there, Voldemort hadn't seemed suspicious about anything untoward happening; the wizard hadn't looked as if he had detected any presence that shouldn't be there.

However, he was perfectly aware that the wizard would probably figure it out soon, or in a few days. Voldemort was nothing if not too damn clever. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't want to be discovered at present, so he knew that he couldn't cast any spells –wandless, nonverbal, or of any other kind- since the beams of light could be seen, and even if they weren't, Voldemort would surely sense the use of magic. Obviously, he couldn't speak, and if he moved, it had to be with extreme caution.

Orion's gaze gauged the situation again, and his mind worked fast to remember all the details he could about the last time he had been there, in order to know beforehand what would happen. Thus, he would determine what he should do; how he could escape with Draco, without being detected or suspected.

At present, Narcissa was slumped on the floor, at one side of Voldemort's throne, and Bellatrix was pocketing her wand, standing beside her sister's prone form. It was evident that Bellatrix had casted the sleeping charm on Narcissa, seconds ago. Snape was still convulsing on the open space before Voldemort's throne, but the wizard's mouth wasn't frothing anymore and the tremors along the thin body seemed to be reducing in intensity. He knew that in any minute the Potions Master would be recovering his consciousness after having been undoubtedly subjected to a round of Crucios. Again, he was certain that Snape had been tortured because, as Lucius Malfoy had done, he had attempted to protect Draco from Voldemort's fury - unsuccessfully.

Just as he remembered, Lucius was slumped besides Snape, unconscious and seemingly not about to wake up anytime soon, since he looked as if he had been tortured too intensely or for too long. Not to mention that the wizard's gaunt face and unusually thin body revealed that his one-year stint at Azkaban had left him weak and frail, to be begin with. And the man still had one hand limply on the floor, having remained outstretched towards his son.

Inches away from that hand, was Draco, now an immobile lump; the chest barely raising and falling, the silvery eyes wide open, unblinking and empty-gazed, pupils completely dilated, mouth parted agape, lips unmoving, and with a blank expression on his once handsome, pale face. Seeing that, Orion felt his throat constrict in worried alarm; there was no knowing how profound the damage inflicted on his friend was, no way to ascertain, at present, whether the boy would recover and if so, in what state he would be left.

Nevertheless, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand, and his gaze zeroed in on his past-self, who was lying on top of Draco, protecting him from Voldemort.

"…stop this foolishness now, and let me take Draco with me," was his past-self saying sharply, glaring up at Voldemort, who stood before his throne with his wand aimed at the pair. "You obviously tortured him, that's punishment enough."

His past-self was suddenly jerked up to his feet, by the flick of Voldemort's wand, and the wizard hissed enraged, "_To protect the Malfoy brat you go as far as to directly oppose me in front of my servants? You'd be willing to fight me, to duel me? You'd be willing to die for him?"_

His past-self started replying back in parseltongue as well, but Orion paid them no mind. His heart was frantically beating in his chest, since he realized that Draco had disappeared minutes after this scene, and he didn't quite know how do it…

But, abruptly, he remembered that Draco had disappeared the second Snape had shot the Killing Curse at the unconscious boy, and that reminded him of Snape's strange behavior… When the wizard had asked Voldemort to allow him to kill Draco to redeem himself, he had thought that Snape was betraying them. But it was obvious that it hadn't been the case… Then he remembered Snape's expression of dawning comprehension, so the man had certainly participated in the scheme of rescuing Draco without fully knowing or understanding what was happening… But why would Snape go through the act of wanting to kill Draco? How did that fit in the plan to get the boy out of there?

Suddenly, the realization struck him like a lightning bolt; to kill two birds with one stone, of course! Snape couldn't go back to spy on the Order for him, and the wizard was in a precarious situation with Voldemort as well, since the man had tried to protect Draco. Furthermore, Snape had known about the Unbreakable Vow he had taken, and hadn't told Voldemort about it, just as Bella and Narcissa hadn't done either. And those witches were surely going to be punished for it, since Voldemort had ordered that Draco couldn't receive any help.

Thus, Snape would earn back Voldemort's trust if he shot the Killing Curse at Draco, and Snape could keep spying for him without Voldemort suspecting too much about the wizard's true allegiances. Moreover, Snape's entire intervention would serve as a diversionary tactic, while he got Draco away from there… And he knew just how, it was simple, and perhaps Voldemort wouldn't suspect it for that very same reason.

He knew that there was only one way in which Snape could have known what to do, only one way to communicate with the man without anyone finding out. He had never tried it before, but it had been done to him. Well, somewhat; it had been done to Regulus. He still clearly remembered the feeling of being tied down on the stone altar, of Voldemort's crimson eyes coldly observing the rapes, the jeering Death Eaters surrounding him, the gaze on his nude and tortured body…

Orion grimaced, but his mind ploughed forward to the important part of that recollection… The pain of being entered by someone who clearly didn't want to do it nor knew how it was done… but then, the voice breaking into his mind, in between the painful thrusts… Snape's unique silky voice, tinted with despair but also sharply commanding, as he told Regulus to end his misery and kill himself, just before the man had surreptitiously conjured a shard of glass...

Snape had done it; the man had used his astounding mastery of Legilimency to communicate directly into Regulus' mind without the need of eye-contact, verbal spell, or wand use… And, indeed, that was quite an astounding feat. Surely, he wasn't as experienced as Snape when it came to Legilimency, nor remotely as gifted, but he knew that their minds had grown susceptible to one another after having shared so many memories between them. Especially after he had plunged into Snape's mind to see the recollections that his guardian had wanted to reveal to him… He had never had a reason to exploit that susceptibility between their minds, but he certainly had now… It seemed almost impossible to manage it in his first attempt, but he was instantly wrapped in self-confidence; he had done it already, so there was no doubt that he would accomplish it!

And without any further delays, his thoughts having taken mere seconds, Orion concentrated with single-minded focus and attention. He didn't lower his Occlumency shields; firstly, because Voldemort would surely detect him then, and secondly, because it wasn't required. He didn't have to pull Snape's awareness into his mind, after all. Quite the contrary; he had to project forward a thought. And that's exactly what he did.

He intently gazed at Snape, who was now starting to jerkily move his limbs, seeming as if he was slowly recovering awareness. Orion fixedly stared at him, his forehead scrunched in concentration, and he forced himself to remember how it felt to enter Snape's mind and the sensations that encompassed him when he was inside…

The wizard's mind had always felt like a vast, blank space, as if one was standing in the middle of white nothingness… Surely because Snape used his Occlumency skills to keep his mind in such way, so that his thoughts couldn't be easily found… But then, he remembered that when Snape voluntarily shared his memories, it felt as if they were coming from an infinite point in the distance, rushing forth and unraveling like a veil fluttering and stretching out, suspending in the midst of vacuum… And sometimes, Snape's emotions seeped through -those linked to the memories- and the man's mind felt as if it had suddenly turned into a black box, the darkness attempting to swallow up and hide the emotions, to suppress them, since the wizard certainly didn't want to share those…

Orion had learned enough about Legilimency at Durmstrang -mastering it though not as far as Snape had- to know that a wizard's states of mind were overlapped, one on top of the other. Meaning that Snape's 'vacuum' and 'black box', to name a few, existed at the same time in the wizard's mind, and the mind switched from one state to the other either by force, when the wizard willed it so with the use of Occlumency, or automatically, depending on the wizard's circumstances and what he was living through. For instance, he knew that Snape's mind was a 'vaccum' most of times, by default or when the wizard forced it to be so when he felt it was needed, either because he was spying or under the threat of his thoughts being perused by someone else, against his will.

On the other hand, he knew that Snape's mind became the 'black box' when the wizard felt inner turmoil, when he felt deeply affected by something and wanted to repress the subsequent emotions or thoughts… And it was clear that Snape's mind had to be in this latter state, since the man had just been tortured whilst trying to protect Draco from Voldemort's wrath. Surely, as soon as Snape regained full awareness, the wizard's mind would be bombarded by thoughts regarding his present dire situation, and undoubtedly regarding Draco's condition. Snape would certainly attempt to suppress all of that with the 'black box' in order to be able to think clearly without emotions getting in the way, so that he could find a way to help Draco without further incurring in Voldemort's anger.

Certain that his evaluation of Snape's mind was correct, Orion focused on what it had felt like to enter Snape's mind when the wizard had showed him the memory regarding his discussion with Dumbledore, when Snape had casted his patronus; a doe – Lily Evans. Back then, that memory had instantly sprung forth, as Snape willed it to do so, but it had been suspended in the midst of the 'black box'. Therefore, Orion knew what it felt like, and he invested every ounce of concentration and effort to focus on that feeling, while he continuously shouted outwards in his own mind, 'Kill Draco! Kill Draco! Kill Draco!'

"Very well. Then we'll duel," Voldemort was snarling, with wand aimed at his past-self, but Orion kept chanting the words in his mind and he didn't pay any attention to Voldemort or his past-self, his gaze still fixed on Snape. "And I will show you no mercy-"

Now, Snape was starting to slowly stand up, with a pained expression on his face, and the wizard said in a hoarse, weak voice, "My Lord…"

Orion's heart jumped in alarm, but he kept screaming the words in his mind, never losing his concentration, still wrapping himself in the feeling of what it had felt like to be in Snape's 'black box'.

"I beg forgiveness-"

'KILL DRACO!' Orion bellowed again, his mind's voice frantic, while he felt as if his heart was about to come bursting out of his chest with frenzied urgency.

Abruptly, he saw Snape clamping his mouth shut, the wizard's black eyes imperceptibly widening, and Orion almost roared with triumph. He knew that those words would pierce through Snape's mind, capturing the man's attention, since they were alarming enough.

Nevertheless, when he saw that Snape shot his past-self a frown and a quizzical gaze, his past-self then staring back at the man with puzzlement, Orion instantly yelled in his mind, 'Don't look at me! Act as if nothing is happening!'

Snape seemed to understand to some degree what he was attempting to do, since in the next second, he abruptly felt as if his mind was being propelled forward… It felt as if he had been pushing against a tightly locked door, and suddenly it had been yanked open from the inside, with him hurtling in… And when his own mind was encompassed in absolute darkness, he realized that Snape had just lowered his Occlumency shields to allow him in… A direct connection had been established between their minds, and since he was inside Snape's, now communicating required much less effort and concentration.

Thus, Orion didn't waste another second, and projected forward, urgently, 'I don't have time to explain! So simply trust me, and do as I say. Act subserviently, and tell Voldemort that you want to redeem yourself! This is to save Draco – so that I can get him out!'

Snape didn't beep a word, didn't even twitch. The wizard simply straightened up, an expression of hard determination flickering across his face, before he gazed at Voldemort and said beseechingly, "My Lord, allow me to redeem myself…"

'Tell him,' said Orion hastily in his mind's voice, 'that you want to prove yourself!'

"Today I made many mistakes," continued Snape, in the same pleading tone of voice, "and I wish to prove myself to you, Master."

"Indeed, you have much to atone for, Severus," said Voldemort coldly, though the wizard's expression was faintly pleased. On the other hand, his past-self was gaping at Snape. "I am listening to how you propose to do it."

'Now tell him,' Orion instantly projected forth, with his heart pumping fast and forcing his breathing to remain slow and silent despite of it, 'that you want to kill Draco!'

"Please, My Lord," said Snape quietly, "allow me to be the one to kill Draco Malfoy."

"WHAT?!" burst out his past-self, and Orion saw a tumult of expression flickering through his past-self's face; fury, hurt betrayal, suspiciousness, and then confused pensiveness when Snape shot his past-self a hard glance which made his other self stand still, yet the alert tenseness didn't disappear from his past-self's shoulders.

"You wish to kill the Malfoy brat?" said Voldemort musingly, before a satisfied smirk tugged his lips. "Very well. Do so, and you'll gain my pardon."

'Do it – shoot the Killing Curse at Draco!' snapped Orion in his mind. 'And you have to mean it; Voldemort cannot suspect you. It will work out similarly to what happened with Dumbledore. You'll cast the Killing Curse, meaning it, and at that same moment I'll save Draco – I'll take him away!'

"Thank you, My Lord," said Snape, bowing to Voldemort, before he swiftly aimed his wand at the prone and unconscious Draco.

Orion tensed, with his heart still wildly beating in his chest, since he knew that this was it. He hadn't moved an inch since appearing in the chamber, he was still invisible and crouching at the same spot; a few paces away from Draco and Lucius Malfoy. Now, he swiftly tugged out the Invisibility Cloak from his robes' pocket, and then the Black Heir ring. Since he couldn't use spells to make Draco invisible -or Voldemort would sense the magic- he would use the Cloak. But knowing that he would need both hands for the Cloak, he placed the ring in his mouth, clamping his teeth down on it, yet leaving half of the ring protruding from his parted lips. Immediately after, he extended the Invisibility Cloak in front of him, grasping the hem with hands widely set apart, and he flexed his knees, ready to jump forward at any instant.

'I expect to be given a full explanation about what has happened tonight!' suddenly blasted in Orion's mind, in Snape's sharp, demanding tone of voice, the echoing loudness of it making him wince.

'Of course,' rushed out Orion. 'I'm taking Draco to Potter Manor. I'll wait for you there, so apparate as soon as you can. And remember to triangulate! No one must know about Potter Manor, Voldemort least of all. This is more important now than ever before, since it's the only place where I can keep Draco safe, given that only us know about it!' He glanced at Lucius, and then Narcissa, and added with worry, 'What about the Malfoys-'

'Nothing further will happen to them, I'll make sure of it,' resounded Snape's voice in his mind, the tone flat and to the point. 'Taking care of Draco is now your responsibility. He'll need a healer - immediately.'

'I'll find one,' inwardly said Orion promptly, with his gaze fixed on Snape, feeling fully alert and expectant, yet he also felt as if his heart would pop out through his throat if the wizard didn't act soon. There was so much of rushing adrenaline that his exhausted body could cope with.

In the next second, Snape's face contorted with hatred, the wizard's wand aimed at Draco, and Orion leaped forth as the wizard spat, "Avada Kedavra!"

When the beam of bright, green light started to careen towards Draco, Orion had already landed on top of the boy, and he immediately flung the Invisibility Cloak over them, covering them completely, and thus making Draco disappear from sight. In a flash, he flicked his wrist and grasped his wand when it came shooting out from underneath his sleeve, from its holster. And without another second, he tapped his wand's tip on the ring he had clenched between his teeth, to activate the portkey. Just when he saw his other self about to land on top of them -since he remembered that he had had the intention of blocking Snape's Killing Curse, thinking that the man had truly betrayed them- he pressed his mouth against Draco's, forcing the ring to touch the boy's lips, just when the portkey activated and they were swept away, seconds before the curse struck them.

The last blurry thing he saw was his past-self on his hands and knees, with a perplexed expression on his face while trying to comprehend that Draco had suddenly disappeared. And the last thing he heard was Voldemort's enraged roar, "WHO HAS DONE THIS?! Where's the boy?!"

But he had little time to think, since he now found himself in a maelstrom of tightening space, colors rushing around him, as he tightly grasped Draco's waist, making sure that the boy wasn't flung out in the middle of the portkey's whirlwind.

Abruptly, they painfully crashed against solid ground, and Orion winced when he felt something stabbing his chest, a muted 'crack' faintly reaching his ears. He immediately spat out the Black Heir ring into his hand and pocketed it. Then, he disentangled himself from the Cloak and jumped away from Draco's prone form, before he grasped the Cloak and rearranged it so that it fully covered Draco once again. Still feeling his heart loudly thumping in his chest, he glanced around to ascertain that he was back at Hogwarts' grounds, just besides the school's gates. He was about to grasp Draco once more and swiftly apparate away, when, abruptly, he became aware of something tingling on his chest, and he quickly parted open his robes, with a frown on his face.

Orion's breath hitched when he saw a drop of blood trickling down from a tiny cut on his white shirt, just where the time-turner had once been dangling on. He quickly unclasped the golden chain from his neck and stared at the broken hourglass; tiny shards of glass were falling down, along with specks of golden dust.

The time-turner had broken, it was now useless. Orion frowned for a second before he straightened up and swished his wand, pointing at the wrecked hourglass. It vanished with a flick of his wand, and he didn't waste time dwelling on it. Honestly, he was partly relieved. He didn't think he would like to time-travel again in order to fix matters; for starters because he couldn't afford to depend on it to patch his mistakes and secondly because even though his other self hadn't seen him this time, if it happened in the future then there was no way of knowing how it would alter the timeline and what the consequences would be.

All in all, it was best for him to never use or depend on a time-turner again. He would only resort to that if someday in the future something catastrophic happened; then, he would have to decide if he lost less by attempting to alter the timeline to prevent it. And only then, would he consider breaking into a Ministry of Magic in order to get his hands on another time-turner.

Suddenly, a stern voice reached his ears across the distance, and Orion stood very still when he saw Scrimgeour and a group of Aurors making their way out of Hogwarts. The moment they stood at the entrance, with the Minister issuing orders right, left, and center, Orion caught sight of something from the edge of his vision, and he snapped his head around.

He sucked in a breath when he saw that his past-self had just portkeyed a few paces away from them. His past-self immediately crouched and gazed at the Aurors congregated far away at the school's entrance, and Orion observed his other-self in complete stillness and quietness. He was still under the parsel-invisibility spell and Draco, who was lying at his feet, was still covered by the Cloak, so they couldn't be seen. Nevertheless, he didn't want to make a single sound, just in case.

Immediately, he saw his past-self checking his wristwatch and then pulling out the chain of the time-turner and looping it around his neck. And in the next second, his other-self spun the hourglass three times and he was gone. Orion slowly let out an exhalation of breath; the cycle was now complete and he was pretty sure that he hadn't made any mistakes that would alter the timeline.

Without wasting another second, and becoming once again aware of the urgency of his present circumstances, he quickly kneeled down to tightly clutch Draco against his chest. And using another hand to grasp the Cloak, he instantly closed his eyes and swiftly pulled them into an apparition.

* * *

"GELLERT!" shouted Orion, as soon as his feet landed on the carpeted floors of one of Potter Manor's lush and cozy bedrooms. "Gellert, Daisy – quick, in here!"

With a grunt of exhaustion, he lifted Draco higher up with his arms, before he gently settled down the boy along the bed. Then, he summarily threw the Cloak unto an armchair and flicked his wand to cancel his own invisibility spell. Just when he tossed the sheath and sword to the floor, in order to unburden himself from the weight to inspect Draco closely, Potter Manor's chief house-elf popped into the room and Grindelwald barged in, running and with a frown on his face.

"Master Potter is injured?" said Daisy worriedly, already snapping her fingers to summon several vials from the Manor's potion storeroom, while her blue gaze was travelling along Orion, as if weighing how to best tackle her recalcitrant and difficult master to force-feed him a potion.

"Not I," interjected Orion urgently, pointing at Draco. "Him – help him! I need to-"

"It happened today?" said Grindelwald, his frown deepening and his voice carrying a hint of surprise, as he approached the bed.

"The Death Eater attack, yes. And many other things," replied Orion hastily, as he flicked his left wrist and caught the Phoenix wand that came shooting into his hand. He threw it at the German wizard, and demanded, "Here, can you help him?!"

Grindelwald had instantly caught the wand in mid-air and was already casting a volley of spells and charms on Draco, his expression turning more somber with each passing second.

"This is beyond my healing skills, mein junge," said the wizard gravely, shooting a stern glance at Orion. "I told you the Malfoy Heir was important; that we couldn't lose him, due to his bloodlines. Why did you allow this to be done to him-"

"I didn't!" snapped Orion frantically, his gaze flickering from Draco to Grindelwald, as he jerkily carded his fingers through his hair. "I did my best, Gellert… So many things happened…"

"What happened?" demanded Grindelwald curtly, his eyes narrowing, but then widening as they caught sight of the sword lying on the floor. "Is that-"

"I don't have time to explain!" said Orion, his alarm increasing when he saw that the wizard had stopped attending Draco, as if it was already pointless to do so. He stared at Grindelwald with wide eyes, and gasped out, "Then Severus was right. Only a professional healer can help-"

"Ja, indeed, and even then it's probable that the Malfoy boy won't ever be himself again," interjected Grindelwald sharply, before he carried on with harsh sarcasm, "And what do you intended to do, mein junge? Break into St. Mungo's to kidnap a healer?"

"If I must, YES!" yelled Orion, and he was already running out the room, as he added over his shoulder, "Do whatever you can in the meantime!"

In mid sprint, he was about to apparate into muggle London –be seen be damned- when he realized that there was someone else who would be much easier to kidnap. He instantly apparated into Black Manor and entered the nearest parlor. He didn't even acknowledge Arcturus Black's portrait and the stern wizard's arched eyebrow; as soon as he reached the fireplace, he grasped floo powder from the pot on the mantelpiece.

The second he was inside the fireplace, he flung the powder and snapped, "Headmaster's office, Durmstrang!"

After a dizzying whirlwind of green flames, he came out from a fireplace, coughing and covered in dust, and he quickly gazed around. The office was empty and not a single candle was lit; Vagnarov was probably asleep in his own chambers. Orion didn't waste another hitch of breath and he yanked open the door and pelted down the stairs. In a few seconds, he was already dashing along one of the dimly lit corridors of the castle. The only sound that reached his ears were his own footfalls, other than that, there was absolute silence; everyone at the school seemed to be sleeping, since it was probably way after midnight.

Panting loudly, he finally reached a door, located in the castle's wing for the professors' private chambers. He trailed his fingertips down along the thick, wooden door, feeling the tingle of several magical wards on it. He didn't waste a second in whipping out his Death and Life wand, swishing it repeatedly as he brought down the numerous wards. Finally, with a muted 'click', the door cracked open and Orion slid inside.

The interior was dark, but once his eyes quickly got used to it, he swiftly ran through the sitting room to reach another door. With his heart pumping fast, he yanked it open and let out an exhalation of breath when he saw that this room seemed to be a bedroom. It was cozy, with dwindling flames flickering in the fireplace, illuminating the soft blues and deeps lilacs which decorated a woman's chamber. And then, he spotted her, deeply asleep on the plushy bed, under a thin blanket which was scrunched, only covering her legs. It was Petra Podroff, their Healing Dark Arts teacher.

Orion's eyebrows flew upwards when he saw the satin, skimpy, form-fitting nightgown that the sleeping witch was wearing. She was, admittedly, a beauty – a seductive witch who knew the power she held over men, and mercilessly wielded it, according to Viktor Vlonski. Indeed, if Viktor could see her now, the hormone-driven teenager would undoubtedly be salivating. The boy –who, despite being quite smug and joyful about his 'serious' relationship with Titania- still had wandering eyes whenever their Healing professor was present. He vaguely wondered with amusement what Viktor would say if he saw Petra Podroff in this attire. According to Viktor –who thought of himself a sage guru when it came to girls, sex, and the female psyche- witches only bothered to dress smartly and to wear 'nice panties' when 'they had someone who shagged them'. And, 'oh, man, if they wear lacy lingerie it's because they want you to rip it from their bodies and fuck them senseless!'.

Well, he would take Viktor's word for it. After all, he felt no inclination to fathom the convolutions of women's minds; he was quite clueless when it came to unraveling Voldemort's psyche, let alone that of the entire female gender.

Urgently, he swiftly reached the bed and roughly shook her shoulder, as he said sharply, "Professor Petra, wake up, wake up!"

"Huh… niet…" she said groggily, her icy blue eyes slowly parting open. Instantly, as her gaze landed on him, her eyes flew open and she gasped out angrily while she jumped straight up, "What do you think you're doing, Mr. Black?! These are my private quarters-"

Orion pulled away from the bed, and interrupted hastily, "I need your help-"

"…breaking into a professor's chambers," continued rambling the witch, her Russian accent becoming thicker as her voice grew angrier and sterner, while she grasped the wand on her nightstand, flicking it and clothing herself with a robe which covered her entirely, "...in the middle of the night! The Headmaster will know about this, young man. Now, get out before I-"

"I didn't break in to see you in your nightgown," snapped Orion impatiently. "I'm not a pervy, love-sick student who wants to spy on you-"

"I demand that you get out immediately," bit out Petra, narrowing her icy blue eyes at him as she stood away from the bed and landed a hand on his shoulder, starting to force him out of the room. "And it's detention for you, Mr. Black-"

"I NEED YOUR HELP!" bellowed Orion, jerking away from her grasp while he swiftly rounded on her, tightly clutching her arm. "You're the first person I thought of. I know you can help with your healing skills!"

The witch leveled him with a skeptic gaze, and demanded curtly, "My help, for what?"

"My friend is badly injured," replied Orion hastily. "You have to come with me to see him-"

"If one of the students is injured or sick," interjected Petra curtly, "then take him to the Infirmary-"

"He isn't a Durmstrang student, and I can't bring him here, and a mediwitch isn't good enough," said Orion, his tone of voice growing urgent and desperate. "I need a healer and you were one before becoming a professor. Please, Mistress Petra, you must help me, he's in a very bad shape and every second counts!"

She narrowed her eyes at him, her smooth forehead slightly crinkling. "Who's injured? Why can't you bring him here? And what happed to him?"

"Er…" said Orion uncertainly, before he quickly made up his mind and rushed out, "It's Draco Malfoy. He was tortured and only a healer can do something for him. So please just come along-"

"Tortured? The Malfoy boy, you say?" interrupted Petra, her frown deepening and her gaze turning scrutinizing.

She must have found something in his eyes, finally believing that he hadn't snuck in just to see her in her nightgown, since she didn't wait for a reply. And in the next second she started to bustle from one room to the next, picking things from drawers and shelves.

"Tell me about his condition," said the witch, as she continued packing things into a black, leather bag, with Orion trailing after her. "I need to know every pertinent detail so that I bring with me everything that can be of use."

Orion nodded, and quickly rushed out, "He was tortured, I think it must have been for about fifteen minutes or so, and I'm quite sure he was repeatedly subjected to the Cruciatus Curse…"

At that, Petra snapped her head up to glance at him, halting in her actions. "Cruciatus Curse?" A grave expression grew over her features, and she demanded, "What else? Any internal damage, any bleeding, any exterior indication of some other curse?"

"I don't know," replied Orion, frantically rubbing his forehead, biting his lower lip with extreme worry. "I didn't part his robes to check his body. But he was subjected to a Legilimency attack, and I believe that his mind is what suffered the most."

The witch stood still again, and now she pierced him with her eyes, and said sharply, "He was crucioed repeatedly and tortured further by the use of Legilimency? Who-?"

"It was Voldemort," said Orion instantly, without giving her a chance of ending her question and without caring, for now, how much he disclosed.

Petra sucked in a breath, her chiseled face paling, before she muttered, "That's the first thing you should have told me… Tortured by the Dark Lord… that changes everything… I can only imagine that boy's state… the seriousness of his injuries…"

She kept muttering under her breath, seeming to be distressed and anxious about her patient, as she continued to fill her leather bag with renewed hastiness. Now she used her wand, flicking it continuously to make potion vials, bandages and the like, surge from the most unsuspecting places of her quarters to fly into her bag.

A moment later, she stood with straight shoulders and a determined expression on her face, a hand clutching the stuffed and bulging leather bag, and she said curtly, "I'm ready. Where to, Mr. Black?"

"I'll apparate us," was all that Orion said, before he tightly grasped her arm and plunged them into a whirlwind of rushing colors.

They landed right in the middle of the bedroom where he had left Draco, and he didn't get a chance to explain anything, since the instant they arrived Grindelwald turned away from the bed to glance at them.

"And who might this ravishing beauty be, mein junge?" said the wizard, crookedly smirking at Petra, who's eyes were wide and who seemed to have lost her speech.

Grindelwald's smirk widened even further, before he gallantly took her limp hand and kissed it, as he said charmingly, "It's always a pleasure to meet disarmingly gorgeous women as yourself, Miss..?"

"Po- Podroff," stuttered out the flabbergasted witch, her icy blue eyes round and fixed on Grindelwald. She shook her head, as if coming out from an entrancement, and gasped out, "You… you are Lord Grindelwald! How's this possible? You're dead-"

"Oh, no, Miss Podroff," said Grindelwald with open amusement, toothily grinning at her. "I'm quite alive and kicking." He gently dropped her hand, and his features suddenly turned grave. "I assume you're a healer, ja?"

That seemed to snap the witch from her dazzlement, since she curtly nodded, shooting at Orion a stern glance which clearly stated that she expected an explanation from him later, and she swiftly approached the bed. She showed no fear of Grindelwald, nor did she display any sycophantic reverence towards him. Actually, she seemed to have completely forgotten about them, as she started to cast several diagnosing charms on Draco.

With another flick of her wand, Draco was suddenly divested from all his clothes and Orion sucked in a breath when he saw the numerous, deep gashes crisscrossing the boy's pale torso, with blood and a thick, black liquid burbling from them.

A deep, worried frown spread over her face when another one of her charms resulted in Draco's head glowing in a bright red light, and Orion demanded frenziedly, "What? What is it?!"

"Out!" snapped Petra, not even glancing at them while she quickly waved her wand over Draco's forehead.

"What?!" said Orion in a shrilly tone of voice, as he lunged forward to be able to see his friend better. "I'm not leaving this room! I'm not leaving him-"

"Yes you are," interrupted the witch sharply, leveling him with a hard glance over her shoulder. "I cannot work with you hovering over me. His condition is much graver than I thought and you'll only get in my way. So get out! The house-elf can stay, I can use its assistance."

In the next second, Petra was rushing out orders to Daisy, who seemed to have decided quite on her own to obey the unknown witch, even if her master hadn't order her to. The tiny house-elf was already pulling out everything from Petra's leather bag and orderly setting it on the enlarged nightstand. In the meanwhile, Orion didn't get a chance to indignantly complain since he found himself being forcefully dragged away from the room by Grindelwald, who quite unceremoniously frog-marched him into the nearest sitting room.

* * *

"It's always better to leave a healer to work alone," said the German wizard, pushing Orion down onto a large, plush couch. "The witch seems to know what she's doing and healers always get into a horrendous mood when someone interferes with their work." He shot him a glance, and added curtly, "And you would have only become a nuisance, mein junge."

Orion slumped into the couch, and numbly nodded, the exhaustion he had felt all during that night mercilessly creeping back into his body. He rested his elbows on his knees, and stared down at his open and spread palms, feeling a sickly sense of impotence as he muttered quietly, "Will he be alright?"

"It's hard to say," replied Grindelwald, with a heavy sigh. "We can only hope that Miss Podroff is as competent as she looks. If we lost the Malfoy Heir… Well, it would be a setback but his bloodlines don't end with him. The Malfoys could still be… persuaded to have another offspring."

Orion's head snapped up and he darkly glowered at the wizard, as he fiercely spat, "You're speaking like Morgana or Mordred would! Draco isn't just the result of a crossing between the Malfoy and the secondary Black line, he's-"

"Your friend," interjected Grindelwald impassively, arching an eyebrow as he crossed his legs in a smooth and elegant move. "Ja, I know. But for the rest of us his only value lies, at present, in the blood he carries in his veins, in the possibility of the offspring he can produce in the future. If he had been properly trained, it would be another matter entirely." He waved a hand dismissively. "I guess there's still time for that, if he survives."

"Properly trained?" gritted out Orion through clenched teeth. "I assume you mean that he should have been trained to be a fighter, a-"

"A proper and useful follower to you," interrupted Grindelwald, piercing him with his hawk-like gaze. "Ja, that's exactly what I mean. You'll need someone you can rely on, someone you can delegate tasks and duties to, someone highly versed in the Dark Arts. Someone not only powerful, with diplomatic skills, and reared as a proper, pureblooded dark wizard, but also someone who has feelings for you. Since then, they would be more unlikely to betray you down the road. You know you can never truly trust any of your followers or… 'friends', but you should at least mold someone to be your right-hand." He clicked his tongue, and added with a disappointed tone of voice, "That's what I thought that the Malfoy boy could become for you. Pity, pity…"

"He isn't dead yet," snapped Orion angrily, glaring at him, before he huffed. "Besides, you never had a right-hand so I don't see why I would need one-"

"Oh, but I did," interjected Grindelwald, crookedly smirking at him. "Several, actually. You met one of them, Dietrich Emmerich, and he was only one of a long chain of close… followers."

Orion narrowed his eyes at the man, detecting the smug and self-satisfied glint in those hawk-like eyes, and he said bluntly, "You mean that you shagged them, don't you? Is that how you made sure that they had 'feelings' for you? You kept them happy so that they wouldn't have a reason to betray you?"

"Ja," said Grindewald, widely smirking. "Precisely. I detected promising young wizards, I feed their infatuation and reverence for me, I magnanimously bestowed my attentions upon them, I made sure they would never think about anyone else but me, and I tied them to me and to my ambitions." His expression turned stern, and he added sharply, "Yet I never forgot that even them could stab me behind the back. You have to be ever watchful, mein junge."

Orion shook his head, and asked with a dismayed tone of voice, "Is that why you wanted me to be with Draco? Why you so emphatically defended my right to have lovers? To be intimate with Draco?"

"Of course," said Grindelwald, staring at him as if he thought he was being particularly dim-witted. He waved a hand, and continued nonchalantly, "And also because he showed promise." He shot him a toothy grin. "In the Spirits' words, the Malfoy Heir is a 'diamond in the brute'. He only needs training and he could be a superb follower to you. And let's not forget the way you're bounded together since you took some of his soul's essence." A musing expression spread over his features, as he said quietly, "I'm quite sure that it has made him even more attached to you, and that means that he'll have less propensity to betray you if he ever had a reason to do so. Alas, now we'll have to wait and see if he lives or not."

"Enough!" bit out Orion, seething with anger. "I know that I have to be conniving, and that I have to use people for my benefit, but I cannot think of Draco in those terms. He's…" He frowned and pierced the older wizard with a suspicious gaze. "Are you saying all this stuff to make me angry and thus take my mind away from what's going on in the next room?"

Grindelwald shot him a devious grin. "Perhaps. Is it working?"

Without replying, Orion huffed and slumped back against the couch, his expression turning frazzled and worried once more. Though, in the next second, he frowned. Gellert would never say things like that only to distract him, it was clear that the wizard had wanted to introduce a new idea to him; that of having a 'trusted' right-hand, and of using any means at his disposal to make sure that that person remained loyal. But he didn't quite understand why the wizard brought this up now, of all times. He already had someone like that: Calypso. Though…

Orion's frown deepened. Though, she still didn't involve herself with the DA as much as she had done in the past. And Grindelwald had a valid point; he would need to start delegating more than before. After that night, things would be speeding forward, there was no doubt about it. And he already had the evidence that he couldn't manage everything himself; the mistakes he had been committing over the last months were proof of it. From now onwards, he needed to form a clique of his most capable and committed followers.

Furthermore, he couldn't really condemn Grindelwald's tactics. Hadn't he used his 'charms' on Rabastan? Hadn't he made Komorov feel pleasure through the VA mark on the wizard's nape? And in the past, hadn't he flirted with Sebastien as well? Not to mention that he knew that he could wield sex as weapon when dealing with Voldemort. Surely, the man wasn't stupid enough to fall for that, but it was useful. And Tom Riddle himself had used his charms to entice followers. Yes, the idea had merit, but he certainly didn't think that he could go as far as to sleep with people to tie them to him. In that regard, he rather follow Tom Riddle's example; promising and tempting but never truly delivering.

Something else caught his attention. Grindelwald hadn't mentioned Snape as a possible candidate to be his right-hand. No, the wizard had wanted Draco to be that, someone his own age. It was significant and he could only surmise that Grindelwald expected him to rely on the newer generations rather than on the older. And he understood why; younger witches and wizards were easier to impress and mold, and they were more eager to fight for their ideals and, more importantly, they weren't 'used'. Indeed, people like Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape had already served a Master for decades, they were already worn out, and highly suspicious of anyone who'd want to use them. But this was a problem, since for some time now he considered Snape to be his most trusted and useful 'follower', if the man could be pegged as one. Indeed, in matters of war, he trusted Snape over Remus or his very own father.

Orion sighed and tiredly rubbed his head. He would have to think about those things further along. At present, he didn't have the energy to scheme, and he reminded himself that there were other much more pertinent matters which he needed to resolve.

He glanced up at Grindelwald, and his eyes marginally widened when he saw that the wizard was intently inspecting Gryffindor's Sword. He hadn't even noticed that the wizard had taken it from the bedroom when they had left Petra to work on Draco. And apparently the Cloak as well, since its shimmering fabric was drapped across the back of the wizard's chair. As Grindelwald gazed at the sword, the expression on the man's aged, yet handsome face was curious, a mix between fascination and a certain revulsion – the latter no doubt due to the Light nature of the object.

The German wizard must have felt his gaze on him, since Grindelwald promptly glanced at him, arching a quizzical eyebrow. "Are you done with your musings, mein junge? Are you ready to tell me what happened tonight?" He lifted the sword, and added with a modicum of wry amusement, "And why you stole a Founder's heirloom from Hogwarts' halls?"

"I didn't want to leave it behind," said Orion without any preambles, with a grimace on his face, "in case Voldemort launched a successful coup on Hogwarts and used the Sword to make another horcrux."

"Ah, ja," said Grindelwald, his lips quirking, "I see why you'd want to prevent that." All dark amusement faded from the wizard's face, and he said gravely, "Now, I want a full account of what you've been up to this evening."

Orion narrowed his eyes at the wizard, feeling a surge of anger, and he said crisply, "Oh, you're getting it, and then you'll answer every question I have."

"Will I?" said Grindelwald impassively, utterly unfazed by Orion's fuming countenance. Indeed, he appeared to be amused once more, his lips curving into a crooked, eager smirk. "Well, go ahead, mein junge. I'm waiting for your narration with bated breath."

Orion's eyebrow twitched with annoyance, before he launched into a detailed explanation of everything which had occurred during the long day; starting with his discovery of Trelawney being an Aux Atrum. He never allowed the older wizard to interrupt, though the man didn't attempt it. Rather, the wizard listened with focused attention, his expression not even once revealing his thoughts. The man stayed strangely quiet.

* * *

Letting out a low, tired breath, Orion rested back on his couch, his throat slightly hurting from all the non-stop talking, yet his piercing gaze never left Grindelwald's face. He stretched out a hand to grasp the teacup that one of the house-elves had brought him a while ago, and he downed it in one swoop, relieving his dry throat.

Abruptly, he was startled by a loud clap, and almost spat out his tea, when the older wizard slapped his hands together, letting out a loud crow of chortling chuckles, as he exclaimed proudly, "Congratulations, mein junge! Superb, magnificent – your first possession! This merits a toast!"

Grindelwald glanced around, as if about to call for a house-elf to ask for champagne, but Orion forestalled any of that by disbelievingly gazing at him, as he said crisply, "That's it? After everything I've told you, you simply want to celebrate what I did to Hermione Granger?" He narrowed his eyes at the wizard, and added sharply, "Cut the crap, Gellert. You know very well that there're much more important matters to discuss-"

"You don't think that your first possession of another human being deserves to be celebrated? And with the use of such an obscure and ancient dark curse that not even I remembered?" interjected Grindelwald quite innocently, looking disappointed. Suddenly, the wizard leaned forward on his seat, and demanded sharply, his tone of voice now harsh, "Or is it that you regret what you did to that mudblood, mein junge?"

Orion gazed at him in silence, before he replied with curt honesty, "No, I don't. I know that what I've done to her is quite horrible. I wouldn't wish it to anyone I care for, but it's for the best." He sighed and carded his fingers through his hair. "I need a spy in the Light's side, someone who'd never be suspected and she was ideal for it. Moreover, in this way, I can use her intelligence to further the Dark's cause, but…" He frowned, and glanced up at the wizard. "But what slightly worries me is that I liked the feeling of knowing that I can completely control her, her behavior and her very thoughts, if I want to. It was similar to what I felt when Voldemort made me use the Mayan Stone… that feeling of absolute power-"

"You fear absolute power?" said Grindelwald flatly, narrowing his eyes at him. "You sound like Albus. Power in itself shouldn't be feared, rather, who wields it. And you cannot tell me that you don't trust yourself with power, mein junge." He scoffed, and added snidely, "Given your own scruples and the way you limit yourself, you're the best candidate to wield such power, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't want to enter pointless, theoretical debates concerning power," interjected Orion impatiently, leveling the wizard with a hard gaze. "You know what I want to talk about."

"Ja," said Grindelwald gruffly, standing up to pour himself a copious tumbler of Kristakoff's Aged Scotch. He took a long sip, and then pierced him with his eyes, as he said sharply, "And what I want to know is when you're going to stop taking the potion which suppresses your dark magical aura." His hawk-like gaze clinically inspected him. "You look about to drop dead on your feet, mein junge. You know what the consequences are." He narrowed his eyes at him, and commanded sternly, "You're going off it, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" said Orion, frowning at him. "I can't, I have to-"

"Kill me," interjected Grindelwald, shooting him a nasty smirk, before he took another long sip from his tumbler.

Orion stiffened, his gaze instantly snapping up to closely regard every feature of the wizard's face, and he said quietly, "You know I cannot do that yet. After what happened today-"

"No more excuses!" spat Grindelwald, a fierce glint sparkling in his eyes as he slammed his tumbler down on the low table and rounded on Orion. "That was the deal, mein junge. That you would kill me the day after you confronted Albus. Tomorrow, as previously planned, we'll go to Durmstrang, you'll gather all the students in the Hall, you'll give a speech, I'll reveal that I'm alive, that you rescued me, that I've been training you, and I'll proclaim you my successor – I'll proclaim you to be the new, true Dark Lord!" He swooped down, and tightly clutched Orion's chin, forcing him to look up, as he added sharply, "And after that, we'll leave the school, you'll kill me, and you'll absorb my powers. You owe it to me, for everything I've done for you!"

Orion clenched his jaw, before he pulled an impassive expression over his face, and remarked nonchalantly, "Funny, you said 'confronted Albus', not 'killed Albus'." He arched an eyebrow, piercing the wizard with his gaze. "Is that what I did? Just confronted him, I didn't kill him?"

"How should I know?" scoffed Grindelwald, releasing Orion's chin as if burned, before he once again made a move to grasp his tumbler. "I wasn't there, was I?"

"You do know!" spat Orion incensed, jumping up and clutching the wizard's arm before the man reached the scotch. He intently bore his eyes into the wizard's hazel ones, and demanded, "From everything I've told you about tonight, what has made you this disturbed? Was it finding out that Dumbledore 'feels' you, whatever the bloody hell that means? Was it knowing that he told me that you two bonded! When? Why, how?! And why didn't you tell me before, Gellert! Or is it knowing that the old man obviously still cares for you?!"

His eyes narrowed, and he continued, his voice getting louder in his anger, "And what did Dumbledore mean when he asked me how far along I was in my transformation? What bloody transformation?! And why did he say in the cave that my blood was worth more than his? Why was he scared when I told him about the voice in my dreams? Why did he say that it would mean my end? Why did he say that if I, or anyone, becomes the Vindico it would be catastrophic? And what reasons does he have to believe that it's best for wizards to keep crossing their bloodlines with muggles and muggleborns, even at the expense of losing magical power? EXPLAIN EVERYTHING!"

Grindelwald straightened to his full height, and said curtly, "You know very well that I have no clue regarding the identity of the voice of your dreams. I don't know if someone is giving you those visions, or for what purpose-"

"You don't know and Dumbledore does?" interrupted Orion crisply, and it didn't escape his notice that the wizard was completely disregarding all his other questions. "I find that hard to believe, Gellert. What are you hiding from me?"

"NOTHING!" spat Grindelwald, now looking even more angered than Orion did. He pierced him with a hard gaze, and snarled, "After everything I've done for you, the things I've sacrificed – the possibility of me becoming the Vindico, of taking back the reins and power!- after I've spent every single minute of my days in training you to help you develop and control your powers, you suspect me of doing it for my own benefit? Or what do you fear? That I'm colluded with the Spirits?" He violently shook his head, and added fiercely, "You know very well that I feel no loyalty towards them, that I myself rebelled against what they had planned for me and that I spurred you to do the same. That I've stood by your side and supported you in everything you've wanted to do-"

"Yes, you have," interjected Orion, his voice low, in stark contrast with the older wizard's. He pinned him with his gaze, and added quietly, "You have done much for me, asking for nothing in return, only for me to kill you when we were done. And it makes me wonder why you would do so much. As you've said, you could try to become the Vindico. You could kill me and Voldemort and succeed in your second attempt. The Hallows are near your grasp, more than ever before, so what's stopping you?"

Grindelwald took in a deep breath, immediately calming down and regaining his cool self-control. And, indeed, Orion was still quite surprised at the man's previous outburst. He had never seen him in such state.

"I told you that in the past I came to realize that I wouldn't survive the Vindico test," muttered the German wizard. "I feel the desire to try, of course… the temptation is there, caused by the 'pull' of my dark magic, as you call it, but I know I wouldn't succeed, mein junge."

"But you don't know what the Vindico test is!" snapped Orion, pressing on. "How can you be certain that you'd fail and die, if you don't even know what it involves?!"

"Because I feel it," snapped Grindelwald impatiently, angrily narrowing his eyes at him. "I admitted to you once that you have the capacity to become more powerful than I can ever be, didn't I? That you have greater magical skills than I do, such as parseltongue and Necromancy. All these are an indication of your power, junge!"

"So you're telling me that you're content to let me become the Vindico," said Orion slowly, closely gauging him, "just because you believe that I'm more powerful than you, and thus, what? – that I deserve to be the Vindico and you don't?" He scoffed, and said skeptically, "That doesn't sound like something a Dark Lord would accept, does it? And you still think of yourself as such, so why are you giving up on something you've coveted all your life? It doesn't make sense!"

"It does to me, mein junge," interjected Grindelwald curtly, his expression solemn, proud and closed off. He intently regarded him, and added shortly, "And I have my own personal reasons, as well."

"Yes, let's talk about those," said Orion, piercing him with his eyes. "The very first day I met you, when the pendant that Karkaroff had given me activated and portkeyed me to your cell in Nurmengard, you said you had been waiting for me. You said you had a personal reason for having stayed there, waiting for a Vindico candidate to arrive. Then, when I broke you out from Nurmengard, you said you were training me due to -among other things- a personal reason as well. What is it, Gellert?"

"It's just that - personal," said Grindelwald, his lips curving into a harsh smirk.

"I want to know," pressed on Orion, his voice hard and unyielding. "Is it because of Dumbledore?" He frowned, trying to unravel the wizard's true motives, and thinking of how to best express his convoluted and uncertain thoughts. He shot him a gauging, but also suspicious, accusing, and slightly hurt glance, "Is it because you still care about him? Are you in same way helping him?" He confusedly shook his head. "I don't know what to believe, Gellert… It simply doesn't make sense. Is all of this truly because of him-"

Grindelwald scoffed, and finally interjected, "If I was in league with Albus why would I be helping you become the Vindico? Enough of your ludicrous suspicions, mein junge."

"I want to know," reiterated Orion, displaying hard-headed stubbornness.

"Alright," said Grindelwald after a small pause, his expression one of sly deviousness. "I'll tell you tomorrow, the moment before you kill me. Does that sound like a good deal?"

Orion narrowed his eyes at him. "It would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? To find out once you're dead is rather pointless."

"Nein, it's not," quipped in the older wizard, nonchalantly dusting off his robes from imaginary lint. "You would never find out if I didn't tell you. So it's better than nothing, wouldn't you agree?"

With a dissatisfied grunt, neither agreeing to the terms or that he would be killing the wizard the next day, Orion turned around to take his seat again. But before he reached the couch, he shot the man a glance, and asked quietly, "Is he alive?"

"Ja."

Orion briefly closed his eyes, exhausted, wary, and frayed, and then plopped down on the puffy couch.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath, bowing down his head to tiredly rub his temples. "It would have been too good if Dumbledore was simply dead, once and for all."

A chuckle sprung forth from Grindelwald's lips, and Orion snapped his head up when he detected that there was a certain relieved cheerfulness in the wizard's laughter. It was satisfied and deeply felt, and something ugly tightened around Orion's chest. Furthermore, the wizard's mind seemed to be miles away, the man's eyes distant, as if looking into the horizon, the handsome, aged features oddly relaxed and content.

"You're glad he survived," whispered Orion, his gaze fixed on the wizard's face, as that ugly feeling reared its head once more inside him. He felt an increasing surge of anger, hurt, and –inexplicably- something he recognized as jealousy. His hands clenched into fists, and he yelled furiously, "WHY?! You knew all along that it was my intention to kill him, and you agreed – you wanted it yourself! And now… what?! You're happy that he's alive!"

Grindelwald's head snapped around to glance down at him, looking momentarily startled, as if he had forgotten where he was. Then, the wizard seemed to come back to present awareness, and a large smirk spread over his face, as he amusedly shook his head.

Taking down a seat, and nonchalantly crossing one leg over the other, he said calmly, "Ja, I'm glad Albus is alive. You, of all people, should understand why, mein junge." His smirk widened as he continued, "Let me answer now one of your numerous and rudely-asked questions. What you suspect is true, he and I bonded. It happened the day before the rather tragic evening in which Ariana died. It was a blood bond performed in a simple magical ritual. It didn't officially make us spouses, but rather… life companions. It was the sort of bond in vogue at that time, used by young couples, but with no serious repercussions. It was nothing like the magical bond you and Voldemort share, just simply what fiancés used before undergoing a more committing bonding ritual."

Amusement flickered across his face, and he added, "What can I say, mein junge? We were young, foolish, and hormone-driven teenagers who thought that our relationship would transcend every obstacle in our way. The bond simply meant that we were promising one to each other. And I didn't tell you about it because I never suspected that the bond's only effect still lingered. You see, the bond allows you to feel when your partner is alive, and his condition, no matter the distance. But it only works when… how should I put it? When the 'feelings' are still there." He let out a crow of chortling laughter, sounding smug, as he slapped a hand on his knee. "Of course, I never suspected that dear, old Albus still cared so much about me!"

Orion didn't know what expression he had on his face, but it must have been sour and angered, because the wizard arched an eyebrow, the amusement slightly fading from the man's face.

"Just now," said Orion acidly, "when you confirmed that he was alive, you used this bond to detect it, didn't you? So does that mean that you still have…" His lips curled, and he sneered, "Feelings for him? That you still love him?"

"Love?" interjected Grindelwald, his eyebrow rising even higher up, while his hawk-like eyes pierced into Orion's. "Who said anything about love? You misunderstand me completely, mein junge. I've never felt what I would call romantic love for anyone in my life. I have 'feelings' for Albus, sure, but I wouldn't call them 'love'. Love, as I understand it, is an emotion which weakens a person, constricting his liberty, clouding his judgment and all together negatively affecting a man's character. Oh, I could loosely apply the term and say that I 'love' him, as I have done once before, to you, but it wouldn't be what other people generally understand as love. Let me explain it to you, and I'm sure you'll see the parallelisms between our cases. Albus has always been my enemy and my life's partner, despite the distance and decades of estrangement. He's the only wizard I've ever truly been interested in, and the only one I could deign to be my equal in mind and magical prowess – not inferior or superior, but a true equal."

His eyes glinted with vicious contentment, as he added, "I'm the only one who can truly, deeply hurt him, and I revel in that knowledge. I'm deeply satisfied when I do so." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm a selfish being, mein junge. If someone is going to cause Albus pain, I want it to be me. If someone's going to decide when he dies, it's me. In that way, he's exclusively mine. And by telling me that he's still able to feel the bond between us, well, you just confirmed to me that he never stopped thinking about me, that he never found anyone who could compare to me, and that despite how much he has undoubtedly fought it, in his mind, he never stopped being mine."

The wizard shot him a wide smirk, and took a calm, brief sip from his scotch, before he murmured pointedly, "Doesn't this ring a bell, mein junge?"

Orion frowned at him. "If you're implying that my relationship with Voldemort is like that, then-"

"I'm mistaken?" interjected Grindelwald, hiding a dark grin behind his tumbler. "Really?" He pulled down the glass, cradling it in his hand, and continued loftily, "I have no doubt that he feels for you the things I've explained. That every time he hurts you, he revels in it. And, tell me, hasn't Voldemort always been both your enemy and life companion? Ever since you took that locket and befriended Tom Riddle, hasn't he been just that? Aren't you the only one who can truly cause him pain, and I'm not referring to the physical one. I'm referring that you can damage his psyche if you wanted to, if you took pleasure in it, as I do with Albus, if you liked to play in that way, knowing that only you can affect him so. That only you matter that much to him." He pierced him with his eyes, and added gravely, "And when the time comes, wouldn't you like that he died in the precise moment you did? Not long before or after, but as close as to your own death as possible? And that his death was carried either by your orders or your very own hands? Do you understand now why I'm glad that Albus has lived for one more day?"

He waved a hand, adding nonchalantly, "Oh, if you had killed him today I wouldn't have minded, since you're offing me tomorrow, but this rather expected outcome gives me a chance to see him one last time. And after I'm gone, I'm counting on you to dispatch him as soon as you can manage." He shot him a crooked smirk. "After all, if I'm to be floating about in the spiritual plane, as you Necromancers call it, then I want to have Albus by my side as soon as possible. All that time waiting to be reborn would be very tedious if I didn't have Albus to entertain me."

Orion blinked at him, not quite knowing what to make of it, or what to address first. "Er… you do understand that your soul will most probably lose all its memories, right? Perhaps not immediately but it will over time. I've already explained to you how it works, and… er … well, about Dumbledore entertaining you, I think you're forgetting that-"

"Oh, he'll want to be with me," interjected Grindelwald, flashing him a toothy grin. "After all, my soul has to be as charming as my mortal self, ja? How could it be otherwise? And about losing our memories, I'm sure our souls will manage to retain them if we want to." He clicked his tongue, sounding disappointed, as he added, "I know there can't possibly be any physical contact, since souls are basically immaterial, and it's a shame…" He sighed, shaking his head. "Indeed, it would be paradise if I could spend my eternity bedding him continuously. He was the best fu-"

"I don't want to hear it!" choked out Orion, his lips contorting into a grimace.

Grindelwald snorted. "Still so prudish-"

"I'm not," snapped Orion indignantly. "I simply don't want to hear about your sexual exploits with Dumbledore. Merlin, he's an old man!"

"Ja, it's a pity he never underwent any magical ritual to preserve his good looks and part of his youth," interjected Grindelwald, sounding remorseful. "You should have seen him when he was younger!"

Orion rubbed his forehead, feeling a bit out of his depth. Grindelwald had been in a strange, shifty mood ever since he had told the man about everything that had happened. And now he was starting to suspect that the wizard was drunk, given the carefree way the man was discussing such matters as his own death.

He forced his mind to get back on track, to the issues which mattered the most. But he recalled something which struck him as slightly suspicions, from the things that the older wizard had just said.

He pinned the wizard with a narrowed gaze, and demanded, "You said the outcome was expected, meaning Dumbledore's survival-"

"Of course," interrupted Grindelwald with a deep chuckle, arching an eyebrow. "I never expected you to kill Albus in your first attempt, mein junge. He's a lot tougher, resourceful, and slier than that. And that's a lesson I wanted you to learn; wizards like him are resilient." His lips curved into a wide smirk. "Admittedly, I didn't expect dear Albus to be so very well informed. It seems that we underestimated Slughorn and how much he knew, nein?"

"You think that Slughorn told Dumbledore about the Vindico test, in the posthumous letter?" said Orion quietly, his forehead scrunching in a deep, pensive frown.

"Ja, as I said, I know nothing about it except that the three Hallows are required, jointly," replied Grindelwald, looking untroubled and quite uninterested in the matter. "From what you've told me, it sounds as if Albus has an inkling about what the test involves, and I doubt that any other Aux Atrum has been his source. After all, none of them are told the specifics by the Spirits and they have no reason to want to betray the Vindico cause. Slughorn must have discovered it on his own, and probably, by accident."

Orion warily sighed, rubbing his forehead, as he mumbled, "It's possible, I suppose." Then, he snapped his head up, pinning the wizard with his gaze. "Can he destroy the Elder Wand? He threatened to do so-"

"Nein!" said Grindelwald, letting out an amused chortle. "Oh, I'm sure dear Albus has tried and will keep on trying, but he'll fail. Do you really think that Mordred and Morgana made the Peverells create magical artifacts which could be easily destroyed by anyone who felt like it?" A large, crooked smirk curved the man's lips. "Only the Master of the Hallows can destroy them-"

"But Dumbledore was the Master of the Elder Wand," interjected Orion, with a frown on his face, "before tonight."

Grindelwald's smirk widened, his hazel eyes sparkling with deviousness. "You're mistaken. He was never the Master of the Wand. Didn't I say that I handed the Wand over to him when he locked me up in Nurmengard? Didn't I tell you that he never defeated me in that duel, but that I surrendered?" He pierced him with his eyes, his tone of voice now smug, "You have been its Master ever since you defeated me during that training session, when you finally controlled your dark magic in its pure, wild state."

"What!?" choked out Orion, gaping at him, before an angry scowl spread over his features. "Then why didn't you tell me before? If I had known-"

"If you had known," interrupted Grindelwald placidly, "then you wouldn't have single-minded fought to obtain the Elder Wand, mein junge. You wouldn't have had one more reason to confront and kill him." He shot him a toothy grin. "And I wanted you to attempt to kill Albus as soon as could be."

"You're such a manipulative bastard," darkly grumbled Orion, briefly glaring at him. He bit his lower lip, and asked worriedly, "But then, if I hadn't broken you out of Nurmengard, Voldemort would have killed you, and the mastership of the Elder Wand would have passed to him. Weren't you and the Spirits worried that that could happen?"

"Think, mein junge, think," interjected Grindelwald impatiently, before he took a long sip from his tumbler, and shook his head. "If I had been killed, Voldemort wouldn't have defeated me, would he? Mastership of the Elder Wand passes along to the person who defeats its previous owner in a duel, meaning in a trade of curses and spells, no matter its duration or the spell used. A simple disarming spell suffices, if it strikes true and isn't blocked, and as long as it's used for offensive purposes, of course. If you hadn't broken me out from my cell and Voldemort would have arrived sooner, then I would have allowed him to kill me without doing anything to oppose it. In that way, the mastership of the Elder Wand wouldn't have passed to him, but the person who currently owned it – to Albus."

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "So that's the way it works? If no one defeats the Master of the Elder Wand and that person dies, then the Master becomes the person who has his hands on the Wand at that time?"

"Ja, precisely," replied Grindelwald, relaxedly leaning back against his chair, humming with contentment as he nursed his tumbler in his hands.

"I see," said Orion pensively. Then he snapped his head up to pierce the wizard with his eyes, as he demanded, "What about all the other stuff? What I asked you before?"

Grindelwald let out an annoyed grumble, waving his hand dismissively, as if speaking about such matters was a tedious endeavour for him. When he saw that the man shrugged his shoulders and was merely content in taking another long sip from his tumbler, Orion stared at him with a frown, and said shortly, "So?"

"So what?" countered Grindelwald with a bored tone of voice, arching an eyebrow.

"My answers!" bit out Orion, his tiredness effectively cutting short his temper and patience.

"This is my last night alive, mein junge," said the German wizard pointedly, leveling him with a reproachful gaze. "I don't want to spend it discussing serious matters. I won't be here to help you any longer and it's time you stop depending on me for answers." He shot him a lazy smirk. "I want to get drunk and enjoy some frivol entertainment. Indeed, you could finally take me out of this plush prison and take me somewhere amusing… I'm even willing to go to muggle London. Hmm, perhaps to some of those bars where-"

"Take you out, to muggle London?" interrupted Orion, gaping at him disbelievingly. He shook his head, and said heatedly,"It's your last night because you want it to be so, Gellert. I would have no problem in postponing the date in which I have to kill you. And then, I'll take you to wherever you feel like going, as long as you use a glamour, of course." He narrowed his eyes at the man, crossing his arms over his chest, fuming. "And I depend on you for answers because you have the answers to my questions! We're not going anywhere until I'm satisfied with the information you give me."

Grindelwald snorted, slumping against his backrest. "You don't look as if you could withstand a night of partying, anyway. You're about to drop from exhaustion. Go to sleep, mein junge, and tomorrow will be a bright, new day." He downed the rest of his scotch, flicked his wand to conjure another bottle, and added with a satisfied grin, "I'll stay here and entertain myself."

Orion was about to bit out a retort, trying to snap some sense into the wizard, when the door was abruptly yanked open. A disheveled Petra tottered inside, her face lined with tiredness, and with a no-nonsense and curt expression on her face.

"How is he?" immediately asked Orion, jumping to his feet and swiftly reaching her side, his heart suddenly thundering inside his chest.

"He's in a magically-induced healing coma," replied the witch, shooting Grindelwald a frown when the wizard widely grinned at her with a rather lethargic expression on his face. Her icy blue eyes snapped back to Orion, as if having dismissed the drunk, former Dark Lord in one glance, and not even wanting to know what had been going on in that room. She pinned Orion with a stern gaze as she continued, "The extent of his injuries was grave and widespread, and you were right, his mind is what was damaged the most." She deeply sighed, taking in a deep breath while she shook her head. "It's hard to tell what his condition will be when he wakes up. I did my best, and now it's up to his own magical core and the natural restorative capabilities of his body."

"But… but, what is to be expected?" said Orion frantically, tightly clutching her arm and shaking her for more answers. "Will he be as always? Will he…" Something lodged in his throat, and he swallowed thickly to clear it, before he whispered, "Will he be as cognizant as ever? His mind isn't permanently damaged, is it? Please, you must tell me something-"

"I simply don't know," interjected the witch curtly. "I gave the house-elf instructions, and it knows the times when to feed him the potions I prescribed. It agreed to watch over him at all times, taking shifts with another house-elf, I believe. The potions will help along his recovery, but I cannot promise that he'll be as functional as before, Mr. Black. The boy will wake up on his own, he mustn't be disturbed, and all you can do is wait until it happens. It could take days or weeks, and the longer it takes, the worse his state will be. And that state will be his permanent one. There's nothing else that can be done. Do you understand?"

"Yes," replied Orion numbly, feeling as if a large pit had abruptly torn open into his chest.

"It's my duty to report this, young man," said Petra, and when Orion's eyes widened, she swiftly added, her tone slightly assuaging, "Not about the Dark Mark I found on his forearm, that's none of my business and I would never notify the Aurors of his country or any other. I'm a dark witch after all, even though I don't agree with Death Eater views and politics. I meant that it's my duty to notify the Headmaster, whom I'm sure will expect an explanation of these circumstances. I won't demand it from you, since I rather not know."

"You're telling Vagnarov?" said Orion, biting his lower lip. Then, he shot her a wan smile, and said in a grateful tone of voice, "Of course, go ahead. And thank you for all your help, I won't forget it."

She curtly nodded at him, and the moment she leaned down to grasp the black, leather bag she had previously settled on the floor, Orion instantly whipped out his wand, and said in quick succession, "Obliviate! Stupefy!"

He caught her the second she toppled over, and he gently rested her on the nearest armchair. He was truly grateful to her, and he wouldn't have minded if she had told Vagnarov, but she had simply seen too much and he couldn't trust that she wouldn't tell anyone else.

He was about to snap his fingers to call for a house-elf, when a sarcastic voice drawled, "I see you have a way with the ladies, mein junge."

Orion glanced over his shoulder at Grindelwald, shooting the man a dour glare. Though, he saw that the wizard didn't look as sluggishly drunk as before. The man's eyes had recovered their hawk-like quality, and the handsome, aged features now held a grave expression.

"Oh, so the bad news regarding Draco have sobered you up?" he said acidly, before he snapped his fingers, and yelled, "Dobby!"

"I never lose my wits when I'm under the influence," said Grindelwald coolly, straightening up in his seat, yet Orion noticed that the wizard's movements were slow, lacking their usual smoothness and elegance. The wizard bore his eyes into Orion's, and murmured quietly, "Don't look at me like that, mein junge, so reproachfully and with such disappointment-"

"And what did you expect?" bit out Orion, fully turning around to confront him, while he impatiently waited for Dobby to show up. "I needed answers, and I needed your help and you decided that you preferred to enjoy your scotch, leaving me to figure out everything by myself! I know you won't be here next time to lend out a hand, but you're here now, Gellert!"

"Then tell me, how can I help you-?" Grindelwald was interrupted by Dobby's appearance, who popped into existence right between them, looking a bit perplexed.

Deciding to deal with the German wizard immediately after, Orion rounded on the house-elf and said crisply, "Where were you? If I call I expect you to come instantly!"

Dobby's eyes grew wide and watery, and Orion immediately regretted his harshness. He wasn't mad at the poor creature after all, he was simply angered at Grindelwald and very troubled about Draco; with his mind frantically searching for ways in which he could help his friend. It was clear to him that Petra hadn't been able to do enough, and now he had to find some other source of help. Though, he didn't know what else could help if not more of a healer's assistance, and that had proved to be insufficient.

"Dobby is very sorry, Master Orion, sir," stuttered out the house-elf, looking about to break into a cry in any second. "I is with Daisy, she telling me how to care for Master Draco-"

"You're the one who's going to help Daisy with that?" interrupted Orion, focusing back on the house-elf. Dobby nodded, and he added more gently, "Thanks Dobby, but you understand that his recovery is very important to me, don't you?" He gauged him closely as he continued, "I know that you've always disliked Draco but he means a lot to me-"

"Oh, Dobby never do anything which cause good Master Orion grief, sir!" exclaimed Dobby vehemently, his large ears bobbing frantically as he wrung his small hands together. "I know Master Draco is good friend of Master Orion's, sir, I take good care of him!"

"Good," said Orion warmly, settling a comforting hand on the creature's small shoulder. "I'm counting on you. Now, I have several other things to ask of you. See this witch over here?" He pointed at the unconscious Petra and her black, leather bag. "I want you to take her to Sølvanghøj village in Bornholm Island, to wherever the wards allow you to drop her. And you must send out some sparkles into the sky, making sure that someone in the village sees them and comes to inspect. The moment they find her, you can leave, and make sure that you aren't seen."

He plucked out his shrunk trunk from his pocket, and handed it over to Dobby, before he pointed at the Gryffindor Sword innocently lying on the low table, and then at the Cloak draped over Grindelwald's chair. "Before you leave, I want you to take that sword, my trunk, and that Invisibility Cloak into my bedroom. And besides taking care of Draco, I need you to go everyday to Black Manor to fetch any mail I'll surely be receiving. You'll have to work out a schedule with Daisy, so that you can do both things. Black Manor will surely be under surveillance, so be careful and always apparate directly inside. You'll dispose of any howlers, and only bring me back the letters and packages which are safe. I expect to receive soon a letter from Remus or Greyback, remember those names. It's a very important letter, which will contain a portkey I'll need to use, so the instant you see it, hand it to me. Will you remember all of this?"

"Yes, Master Orion, sir!" said Dobby immediately, rocking on his small feet, and clearly ecstatic about his new responsibilities.

"Thanks, Dobby, you can go."

The moment the house-elf promptly popped away, Orion dropped his warm smile and rounded back on Grindelwald. "You can help by answering each and every question I asked you before." The wizard opened his mouth, but Orion quickly rose up a hand, as he continued sharply, "But not now, I have something I must take care of. So sleep it off, Gellert, and I'll wake you up when I'm done."

"You'll attempt to save the Malfoy boy by some other means?" said Grindelwald quietly, his gaze intently fixed on Orion, who had swiftly started to make his way to the door. "What is it that you're planning on doing?"

"You really no longer care, do you?" shot Orion over his shoulder, his voice crisp, without halting his steps. "But, to answer your question, I'm going to write to Lezander, for the very first time since I found out he was alive."

"How do you expect the vampire boy to help-"

But Orion didn't hear the rest of the slightly alarmed question, since he was already out of the room, slamming the door shut, and then tiredly sprinting off to Potter Manor's master study.

* * *

The moment he was inside, he casted several wards on the door, which would keep Grindelwald away and block out the wizard's voice, in case the man decided to get off his bum to stop him from doing what he had already decided to be the only possible solution.

He slumped down on the grand, high-backed armchair, and quickly took out a fine piece of parchment and an inked quill from the first drawer of the ornate desk. Then, he rested his elbows on the top, and gazed down at the blank parchment. He looked at it numbly for several long minutes, constantly biting his lower lip, and without a clue of how to formulate the favor he was going to ask from Lezander. Not to mention, of course, that he didn't even know if the young vampire remembered everything about him, or anything about Draco. And if Lezander had, during all those long months, gotten back his memories, the vampire could still quite rightly refuse to help him.

Lezander and Draco had never gotten along; in fact, they had profoundly disliked each other since the moment they met. Added to that was the fact that he hadn't written to Lezander in all that time, though he had used the blood-spell Râzvân had taught him to send Evander's, Viktor's, and Kara's letters to him, and that surely hadn't settled well with the young vampire. He knew, from his friends, that Lezander had replied back to them, sending the letters back by standard owl, but Lezander hadn't written to him. And he didn't know, either, what his former boyfriend had written to Evander, Viktor or Kara, since they never offered the information and he had never asked.

And now, to ask such a favor, out of the blue… Orion sighed and roughly rubbed his forehead. He didn't regret not writing to Lezander. The truth was that, before, he wasn't ready to see the young vampire. And afterwards, when everything startled crumbling in his relationship with Voldemort, when he discovered more things about the Kraljica Mati, and when Connolly had revealed to him that vampires had life mates and that he certainly was Lezander's, he had fiercely longed to see Lezander again but he knew that writing letters wouldn't be enough. He only wanted to discuss matters personally, face-to-face, and with time enough to spend several days with him. That's why he had postponed those matters for when he finally went to Zraven Citadel during the summer holidays, to undergo his training in vampire fighting under Cyprian's tutelage, and to renew his broken allegiance with the Zravens.

Moreover, what he would ask of Lezander was something he knew that most vampires would flatly refuse to do. It was quite simple; he had the intention to ask Lezander for a small vial containing his blood. This solution had been on the edge of his mind ever since Petra had told him that there wasn't much she could further do for Draco. He had instantly remembered a case in which someone he loved had seemed to be about to die. It had been when Voldemort had merged with locket-Tom's piece of soul, to undo the damaged he had done to himself when making one extra horcrux.

He had thought, at that time, that the wizard wouldn't survive the ritual, though he knew better now, and Voldemort had shortly afterwards informed him with a smirk that it hadn't been necessary for him to give him his blood. Though, there was no doubt that his blood, already containing Lezander's, had helped Voldemort to recover more quickly. Given Draco's much graver case, he knew that giving the boy his blood wouldn't be enough. He needed pure vampire blood, right from the source, and not whatever diluted Zraven blood lingered in his veins.

Nevertheless, a number of doubts still swirled in his mind regarding his plan. Lezander had told him, long ago, that vampires would only share their blood with their partners, and now he knew that the boy had really meant with their life mates. That's why, according to Lezander, Râzvân had furiously refused to give Voldemort his blood when the wizard had demanded it as part of the terms of their tentative allegiance, during Voldemort's first rise. That demand broke negotiations between the parts, leaving Râzvân highly suspicious and angered at Voldemort and refusing to ever consider making the Zraven vampires loyal to a wizard who would unyieldingly and superiorly demand such a sacrifice from the ruler of a vampire clan.

Therefore, he wondered about the consequences there would be if he fed Draco Lezander's blood. Would Draco and Lezander be bonding in some way? And since he himself had taken Lezander's blood, would it bond the three of them together? On the other hand, he slightly remembered that Lezander had once told him that if a vampire shared his blood with someone who wasn't their partner, and without the use of any bonding spells, then that it wouldn't have any significant consequences… Yet, he wasn't quite sure if he remembered that information correctly…

Orion frowned and bit his lower lip again. It was best to assume, for the sake of making a decision, that the most grave scenario would be the one to happen. Thus, he had to ask himself if he would mind if there were any permanent consequences, namely Lezander bonding to Draco by blood. And his instant answer was that he didn't mind, not if it meant that Draco would recover fully, not if it meant that his friend would have all his mental faculties intact.

So what if it bonded Lezander and Draco, or the three of them? He was already bonded to Lezander and to Draco separately, so it made little difference. Moreover, the one who really had to know the consequences was Lezander, and the young vampire would surely refuse if it meant that it would bond him to Draco. So he would simply have to depend on Lezander's reply, if the young vampire wrote back at all, which wasn't certain.

At last, feeling absolutely determined and decided, no matter what would result of it, he started to write the brief letter. He didn't mention the issues lingering between them, nor any personal matters, he simply wrote what had happened to Draco, the gravity of the boy's condition, and his beseech for Lezander's help, requesting a vial containing some of his blood. It was brief and to the point, nothing revealing his emotions or sentiments except his plea for Draco's sake. Once done, he didn't even reread it. He simply quickly used a letter-opener to prick his fingertip, allowing a single drop of blood to splat on the parchment, and he swiftly waved his wand at it and muttered the spell.

Instantly, the letter disappeared with a muted 'pop', and Orion nervously drummed his fingers on the desk's top. The minutes seemed to stretch indefinitely, while he received no reply, nothing popping into existence before him. And his belief that Lezander still didn't remember everything about his life, previous to the Veil-incident, started to solidify. Surely the young vampire would have answered by now if he fully remembered about their past relationship, and about Draco. Wouldn't he? Or perhaps he did but was too angered?

After twenty minutes had passed, feeling more despondent and impotent than ever, Orion gave up all his hopes. He couldn't come up with any other solution, this had been the last ace under his sleeve, and he simply didn't know who could help improve Draco's situation. It seemed that Petra had been right, there was nothing that could be done except wait for Draco to wake up from his healing coma and then see what his condition was.

Orion finally stood up, grim, grieved, but also lacking any energy to do anything but reach the nearest bed in order to fall into a deep slumber and forget all his worries and troubles for until the next morning. He would ask Grindelwald his questions then, he certainly didn't feel up to it at present. It was as if all his anger and every other emotion had swiftly started to leak out from him. He felt empty, exhausted, and dully numbed.

With a flick of his wand, he snuffed out the lone candle in the study and slowly closed the door once he crossed the threshold. It was then, just when he was turning the doorknob to click the door shut, when he heard it, a dim popping sound which he at first thought to be a product of his imagination. With his heart pumping fast in his chest, he immediately sprung forward into the study once again, wildly flicking his wand to light the single candle once more. And then he saw it; a rolled parchment swaying gently in midair before it settled quietly on top of the desk.

He could hardly believe it, but he wasted no time in unrolling the piece of parchment. And from it swirled down a tiny glass vial which was tied to the upper edge of the letter by a thin string. The vial was full to the brim in what could only be blood, given its deep, dark red hue, and its thick consistency. Orion carefully pocketed the small vial, before his gaze quickly ran along the two short sentences written in the parchment, feeling as if his heart was about to pop out his throat.

His eyes widened, and he plopped down on the chair, almost missing the seat, while he was suddenly assaulted by an influx of rushing emotions. In Lezander's cursive and long-stroked calligraphy, the letter read: _'I want to see you. Please.'_

That was it, no questions asked and nothing demanded in return. It was something truly Lezander-like in its unselfishness, and Orion found himself enveloped in a kind of warm happiness he hadn't felt in a very long time, a sort of comforting and protective sensation snuggly wrapping around his chest.

Feeling extremely relieved as he thought what this meant for Draco's chances for a recovery, a wide smile spread over his face as he immediately jotted down his reply: 'Thank you .You will. I'll be there in two weeks.'

And with that, he smudged a drop of his blood on the letter and casted the spell once more. As soon as the letter disappeared, he jumped to his feet and rushed out from the study. Panting heavily but no longer caring about sleeping or not, he didn't stop until he reached the bedroom in which he had left Draco. He yanked the door open and hurtled inside, seeing that Daisy was keeping watch over Draco, the little house-elf perched on a small stool, her gaze worriedly fixed on the unconscious boy.

Orion wasted no time, and as soon as he reached the bed, he ordered swiftly, "Please leave us alone, Daisy. Attend to your other duties in the meanwhile and I'll call you back once I'm done."

Potter Manor's chief house-elf nodded, in a rather unusually subdued manner given her bossy nature, and without a word, she popped away. It seemed that she understood the gravity of the situation and Petra must have worked her hard as well.

He carefully sat on the edge of the bed, and his troubled and worried gaze travelled along Draco's body, as he gently tucked away one platinum lock of hair, his fingertips then brushing along a pale cheek. Draco's skin was cold under his touch, the boy's lips were almost white, tinted with a blue hue, and the chiseled face was gaunt and extremely pale, the skin looking almost transparent, with black circles under the closed eyes. The boy's thin chest was wrapped in thick bandages, covering the deep gashes he had seen before, and the breathing sounded shallow but also labored. If it wasn't for the sound of Draco's breathing, he would have thought that the boy was already dead.

Orion deeply sighed and stopped caressing the boy's face to pluck out the small vial from his pocket. He glanced down at it, biting his lower lip. If it worked, if Draco recovered with no impaired mental faculties or physical disabilities, there was no doubt that the boy would be furious with him anyway, given that Draco would have some degree of vampiric traits. Added to that, he would have to explain to the Malfoys that their pureblooded son carried a halfbreed's blood in his veins; that wouldn't go over well. And, perhaps, Draco would find himself being blood-bonded. But again, Lezander would have said something in his letter if that would be a consequence, wouldn't he? And surely everyone would rather see Draco fully recovered, no matter the repercussions.

Well, he would shoulder all responsibility and to hell with their pureblooded despise of halfbreeds. Without any second thoughts, he gently parted Draco's blue lips, unstoppered the small vial and brought its brim to the boy's lower lip, tilting the vial. As the blood thickly trickled into the young wizard's mouth, Orion used his other hand to massage the boy's throat, to make him swallow what was being poured down. Once the vial was completely empty, he vanished it with a wave of his hand, and focused back on Draco's face, with his heart loudly beating in his chest.

His breath hitched when he saw that, ever so slowly, some color began creeping in the boy's face. A pale pink blossomed in Draco's lips and cheeks, but nothing else happened. The silvery eyes didn't open, the breathing remained as shallow as ever, and not a muscle twitched.

Orion exhaled and rubbed his forehead. Well, what did he expect, a miraculous recovery? It would take time, and Draco was still under the magically-induced healing coma. Now, all he could do was wait until the boy woke up on his own, and Merlin knew when that would happen.

Suddenly, the door banged open, and Orion snapped his head around in startlement, just to see Snape stalking into the room, with a dark expression brooding on his face as he was being led in by Daisy. She disappeared the minute the wizard shot her a glowering glance, and then Snape momentarily halted his long strides to take in the scene with narrowed eyes, before he snarled, "Where's the healer? Didn't I tell you that he would require one?"

Before Orion got a chance to reply, Snape was already towering by the bedside, a beam of light shooting from the man's wand to encompass Draco's body.

"He's in a healing coma?" hissed out Snape, glaring down at Orion. "That won't mend all the damage he has sustained, you imbecilic child! And where is the healer-"

"I did bring one, but she has already left," interrupted Orion shortly, holding up a hand to forestall the wizard's tirade. "There wasn't much she could do anyway-"

"Then you should have fetched another," snarled the Potions Master, "and then another, until you found one who could do something for him! You should have moved heaven and earth until you found proper assistance. I entrusted you with the life of my godson-"

"You think that I simply sat on my arse after she told me that she could do nothing else?" bit out Orion incensed. "I didn't, I-"

"You what?" demanded Snape harshly, narrowing furious eyes at him. "I see no healers bustling around, I see no one here who can possibly do anything-"

"Bloody hell, will you let me finish my sentences?" spat Orion with angered exasperation. "I… I got a potion for him. I'm positive that it will help him make a full recovery."

"A potion?" sneered Snape. "There's no potion that can-"

"I gave him something, alright!" snapped Orion shortly, scowling at the man. "Don't ask what because I won't tell you until he wakes up and I see what his condition is."

"What have you done?" demanded Snape sharply, narrowing his eyes at him.

Orion met the man's eyes with a hard gaze of his own, and he didn't beep a word. He wasn't about to tell the wizard about Lezander's blood. Knowing Snape, the wizard would suspect Lezander's motives, probably believing it to be full of ill-intentions, and then the man would demand to know if any bonds would be formed, and he simply didn't have an answer for that. Nor did he want to deal with that at present. He had other more pressing issues on his mind.

"How are the Malfoys?" he asked promptly. "What has been going on at your end?"

"The Malfoys are as well as they can be, given the circumstances," said Snape callously. "I tended to Lucius and now he's in a much needed rest. Of course, in a moment of lucidity he demanded to know what had happened to Draco, as did Narcissa. I told them he was with you." He pierced him with his eyes, and added sharply, "And Lucius demands a meeting with you. Obviously, the Dark Lord knows nothing of this and it has to remain that way. Furthermore, it cannot take place at Malfoy Manor, it has been seized by the Dark Lord. Riddle Manor has been completely evacuated."

"Well, isn't this just peachy," grumbled Orion sarcastically, as he carded his fingers through his hair. "Fine, I'll meet Lucius, but it will be in my turf. He'll surely be furious at me, given that he must know by now that I was Harry Potter and all that stuff." He glanced up at the wizard, and said warningly, "But not a word about the consangri ritual that my mum and James subjected me to, nor of this Manor. Tell him that I'll see him at Durmstrang, seven days from now. I'll make a portkey and give it to you-"

"Durmstrang?" hissed Snape, his tone then turning jeeringly derisive. "Do you believe that you can freely move about? Draco, you and I will undoubtedly be in the Aurors' Most Wanted list. You cannot show your face in any country ruled by a Light Ministry of Magic, nor in the wizarding communities which are supposedly controlled by dark wizards. Durmstrang lies within Danish territory, and despite that Denmark has a Ministry of Magic controlled by the Dark, they have remained neutral in the past, never taking any sides in wizarding wars. If you are seen, you'll be captured and most probably extradited and flung into the hands of English Aurors. As a matter of fact, you shouldn't step out of this Manor. No one besides Lupin, Grindelwald and your mutt of a father knows that it has been reconstructed and that you have access to it, and the wards will keep you and Draco safe."

Orion gazed at him disbelievingly, before he said curtly, "I know that I have to lie low, but I'm not staying put, Severus. I have countless things to do. And Durmstrang is safe. Even if the Danish Ministry has jurisdiction over Bornholm Island, they don't over the school. The Board of Governors is comprised by high official of several European Dark-oriented Ministries, and all of them would have to agree unanimously to have me expelled or captured within the school's walls. And even if they did, do you think that the wards would allow them? The school's wards were casted by Morgana and Mordred, pilling up over the centuries, and I bet you anything that the Spirits wouldn't stay still if anyone tried to capture me or launch an assault on the castle. Durmstrang is the safest place there is."

When the wizard was about to interject something obviously snappish, he held up a hand, and continued, "Not that I'm planning on hiding there. I'm not going to hide at all. I'll be careful but I won't lock myself in someplace. I was forced to spend all year attending Hogwarts and thus, I couldn't go to any of the Dark Allies Meetings. I've missed what has been going on with their plans, and you couldn't tell me due to the confidentiality spell that Voldemort always casts at such gatherings. But I'm attending them from now on. Voldemort still considers me his ally, after all-"

"Not for long," interrupted Snape with a harsh scoff. "He'll assuredly figure out that you were the one to snatch Draco away." He pierced him with his eyes, and added sharply, "I have no doubt that the Dark Lord is still looking for the Elder Wand and he'll discover what the Hallows are, eventually. For how long do you think that you can keep your secrets from him? Months, at the most, and then how are you planning on keeping the Hallows away from him, or on keeping yourself alive once he knows that he has the capacity to absorb your dark magic if he kills you?" He pulled up to his full height, and stated acidly, "It's quite clear that you'll have no other choice but to kill him, no matter what your sentiments are."

Orion narrowed his eyes at the man, before his shoulders slumped and he let out a troubled sigh. "I'll deal with those things when they happen. I'll figure out how to make sure that he doesn't feel the need to break our alliance, or to attempt to kill me."

"Pigheaded, idiotic child," said Snape crisply. "Don't tell me later that I didn't warn you. The sooner you kill him, the better." He shot him a dour glare, before he flicked his wand, conjuring a spartan chair, and sat down. Piercing him with a demanding stare, he said sharply, "Explain what happened tonight."

Momentarily, Orion glanced at Draco, before he conjured a chair as well, and then proceeded to relate to the wizard the happenings of that night. Nevertheless, he did it as briefly as he could, without sharing as many details as he had with Grindelwald. He didn't tell the man what he had done to Hermione Granger, nor that Trewlawney was an Aux Atrum; the wizard didn't need to know those things. Moreover, as with Grindelwald, he certainly didn't mention that he had known how to project his thoughts into Snape's mind because he remembered how the man had done it to Regulus. Only Vagnarov knew what Cadmus had unleashed in his mind, before it was blocked, and it was staying that way. For Snape, Sirius, or Lucius to know that he had been Regulus would only be complicating matters. As it was, he was a bit nervous about his meeting with Lucius; he certainly wasn't looking forward to it.

"And I'm going to write to Remus," finished Orion, shooting a warning glance at Snape, "to tell him that we're going to Lycaon in a week, to hold a meeting between him, my dad, you and I. So you'll have to swallow your dislike for werewolves, Severus, and I don't want any bickering between you and my father. We'll have to plan what to do next. Moreover, I'm going to ask Remus to invite the Alphas of the packs of continental Europe." He scowled, and grumbled darkly, "Voldemort is trying to snatch them away from me and I'm not going to let him, no matter how many potions he tempts them with."

With a sour expression still lingering on his face, Snape snorted. "You should have expected it. You cost him his allegiance with the Dementors, brat. It was only logical that he would seek to steal your allies from you; an-eye-for-an-eye, I would call it." He pinned him with his gaze, and added sharply, "It was moronic of you to use the time-turner, and to interfere so-"

"As I told you, it broke and I'm not going to rely on one again," interrupted Orion shortly. "Besides, without it everything would have been worse. Merlin knows what graver mess we would have in our hands and how many would have died or been captured."

He waved a hand, dismissing the subject, and then bore his eyes into the wizard's black ones, as he said quietly, "Dumbledore is alive. I got it out of Gellert while we were waiting for my Healing professor to finish tending to Draco."

Snape remained silent as he leaned against his chair's backrest, and finally said calmly, "Dumbledore's survival doesn't surprise me." He frowned, and said sharply, "I assume that you interrogated Grindelwald about what Dumbledore told you. What-"

"He hasn't explained, yet," interrupted Orion, his expression turning darkly miffed. "He's acting very weirdly."

"Quite," said Snape dourly. "Right after I apparated in and started to look around for you, I found Grindelwald dozing happily in an unmistakably drunken stupor. Care to explain?"

"That's just it," said Orion, with an annoyed frown on his face, "I don't know why he's acting like that, as if he no longer cared about anything. Unless…" His frown deepened, and he glanced up at the wizard. "Actually, I think I do know. It's his way of going on strike."

"On strike?" interjected Snape flatly, one black eyebrow arching.

"Um, yeah," said Orion slowly, his frown clearing and turning into a scowl. "I think it's his way of demonstrating that even if I postpone killing him, he'll no longer help me with anything. It's his way of telling me that our deal has concluded, that I gain nothing by keeping him alive, and that he's going to be a nuisance until I keep my end of the bargain and kill him."

"I see," said Snape indifferently. "Then get him to tell you what you want to know and then do it. You knew the day would come. The last thing we need is to be on guard in case a former, mass-murdering Dark Lord decides that he wants to rehash his days of glory." He narrowed his eyes, and added sharply, "Have you forgotten what that wizard could do? You have two Hallows and-"

"I know," interrupted Orion stiffly, "but he wants me to kill him tomorrow and that's too soon. He's still very useful and I can persuade him to keep helping me for a bit longer."

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits, and he snarled, "You're only making up excuses because you've stupidly become fond of that man. He's a dangerous liability, and the threat he represent to you will only increase in time." He swiftly leaned forward and captured Orion's chin in his hand, as he demanded sharply, "You must kill him. Will you?"

Orion frowned at him, and said quietly, "Yes."

"Tomorrow?" pressed on Snape, his voice harsh, his gaze hard and piercing.

Shooting him a glare, Orion wrenched free from the wizard's grasp, and he bit out, "Yes, tomorrow, but only because that's what he wants. I'll still try to change his mind before then."

"And you'll fail," interjected Snape, his lips curling upwards with deep satisfaction.

Orion heatedly glowered at him. "You could at least pretend to-"

"To what?" said Snape with a harsh snort. He leveled him with a gauging gaze, and then sneered, "Oh, I know what he means to you, but I see him for what he truly is. I have no doubt that your tender heart will break once you kill him, and that you'll be mopping around for several days after, but I cannot pretend that I won't be deeply content to see him gone."

"Stuff it, Severus," hissed out Orion, his eyes flashing with anger. "I won't mope and my heart won't break. If I do it, it will be with my eyes open, and knowing that it's for the best."

"We'll see after tomorrow, won't we?" silkily drawled Snape, nastily smirking at him.

"Yeah, whatever," bit out Orion, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on his chair as he shot the man a glare. "I find that I'm too tired to put up with you for longer, Severus. But there's still one issue I want to discuss with you. What will Dumbledore do?"

Snape scoffed. "Silly child, how should I know-"

"Guess," spat Orion, short-tempered.

Snape's expression darkened, and he said sharply, "You know as much as I do about what his plans were, but it seems that your pea-sized brain is too lazy to ponder about the possible paths that Dumbledore will take. This time, I'll oblige, because I know that you've had a long day." He pierced him with his gaze, and said curtly, "It's rather obvious what would benefit Dumbledore the most: to play dead. According to you, Moody has already spread around that he saw how you shot the Killing Curse at Dumbledore, so it's fair to assume that every wizarding newspaper is going to be buzzing with the news that you murdered the old man. And Dumbledore will make the most of it. If everyone believes him dead, it will, of course, dampen light wizards' morale but it the long run it would mean-"

"That those light wizards who have previously remained neutral or uninvolved will have no other choice but to actively support their side in the war," interrupted Orion, a troubled, pensive frown spreading over his forehead. "People will even start enrolling in the Order, since now there isn't anyone to save their hides for them. I'm on the Dark's side and as far as they know Dumbledore's dead - there's no one there to dispose of Voldemort for them. So they will have no other choice but to get off their bums and do something to defend themselves."

Snape's lips curled. "Precisely."

"And the same will happen in the greater sphere of international politics, won't it?" mused Orion, biting his lower lip while his frown deepened. "Those countries which were neutral but Light-oriented will have to support the current English Ministry of Magic, since they know that if they don't send their own Auror forces to this country, then Voldemort would easily take over, since they'll believe that there's no Dumbledore left to oppose him." His eyes widened as he stared at the wizard, and he snapped worriedly, "Bloody hell, I see it now. Dumbledore will gain a lot by pretending that I really killed him. And he'll surely work behind the scenes to get more allies. He'll probably make McGonagall or someone like that take over the Order, making her go around negotiating allegiances while spouting that they need help because the old goat kicked the bucket. And Light allies will flow to them, worried that if England is taken over by the Dark that their countries will soon follow. So what's our best course of action, then? Should I deny that I killed him-"

"You should play along," interjected Snape coolly.

Orion blinked at him. "Come again?"

Snape muttered under his breath, foul-tempered, and then leveled him with a piercing gaze. "Given what you've told me, it's seems that Dumbledore hasn't lost the hope that he can bring you to the Light's side. This counts to your benefit. Moreover, given the way the Aurors worked along with the Order, it looks as if Dumbledore and Scrimgeour have joined forces. Thus, Dumbledore will notify Scrimgeour that he's alive, and unlike Fudge, this Minister isn't a fool. He'll secretly work with Dumbledore, and the old man's continued existence will probably be revealed-"

"At some important battle," interrupted Orion, nodding at him. "Yeah, I thought as much. It would immensely boost the morale of the light wizards in the battlefield, raising their hopes, and thus making them fight more fiercely and fervently. But I don't see how it benefits me to publicly pretend that I killed Dumbledore." He shook his head and fisted his hands in anger. "I would be doing what Dumbledore wants! Wouldn't it be best if I revealed that he's alive-"

"And who would believe you?" snarled Snape impatiently. "Light wizards' opinion about you, the Boy-Who-Lived, has always shifted with the fickle currents of whatever is printed in the newspapers. You're going to be pegged as Dumbledore's murderer and anything you say will be construed as lies given with sole intention to save yourself from Auror persecution." He pierced him with narrowed eyes, and added sharply, "You will not be able to change that and if you attempt to give any interviews the Aurors will be instantly notified and you'll be captured-"

Orion scoffed. "I'm not stupid, I wasn't planning on-"

"And," continued Snape, his voice growing even harsher, tinted with a hint of a sneer, "you can take advantage of the negative publicity. Haven't you spent this whole year whining about having to pretend to be a good, little Gryffindor? I thought you would have been ecstatic at finally being able to drop your charade to show your true colors. Don't you see the amount of fearful speculation that's going to brew around you? To light wizards, you were their savior, the one who felled the Dark Lord when you were a baby and the one expected to do so again. Now they'll know that you've joined forces with the Dark Lord and they'll be more fearful than ever-"

"Of course they will," snapped Orion, glaring at the man. "I know all that. I wasn't going to pretend to still support the Light, Severus. As you say, I'm finally free to show my true colors and that's exactly what I'll do. I don't mind light wizards believing that I killed Dumbledore, but I won't lie to my allies. I will tell the DA the truth, and obviously, I must tell Voldemort since he and I must plan together our next steps." He scowled, and added shortly, "As a matter of fact, I want you to tell him that I want to attend the next Dark Allies Meeting. Surely they'll press to have one, but make sure that it takes place in a week or so, not before. Don't say that you've seen me, of course. Tell him that I sent you a patronus message, since I'm supposedly still looking for Draco."

"Fine. But why in a week and not before?" demanded Snape sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "What stupidity are you planning now?"

Orion glared, and bit out, "Nothing. I'm simply going to be…" He grimaced as he thought about the week of disintoxication before him. "… indisposed." He shot the wizard a hard gaze, and added curtly, "And that's all you need to know."

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits, as the man intently gauged him, but in the next second the wizard seemed to decide that endeavoring to get more out of him was a lost battle. And Orion smirked at him, since it was obvious that Snape knew that in stubbornness no one beat him.

"Very well," said Snape crisply, as he crossed his arms over his slim chest and shot him a hard glance. "I'm sure you have much to think about, but before I leave, I want to know what you plan to do about Draco if he fully recovers."

Orion puzzledly frowned at him. "What I plan to do about Draco? What on earth do you mean?"

Snape's nostrils flared, and he hissed out as he pointed an accusing finger at him, "He became your responsibility the moment you stepped between him and the Dark Lord, the moment you saved him. I'm spying on Voldemort for you, I'll be under his constant scrutiny, and so will the Malfoys. Therefore, it's obvious that we cannot hide or protect him. That will be your duty."

"Yes, I know that," muttered Orion.

"He won't survive if you're not there to help him."

Orion glanced up at him, his frown deepening, and he bit out, "I know."

"He's going to be hunted down by Aurors and by Death Eaters-"

"I know, Severus!" snapped Orion hotly. "I know all of that. I'm perfectly aware of what his situation will be!"

"Then do explain," snarled Snape, narrowing his black eyes at him, like a snake about to strike down a daft, feeble-minded pray, "why you're planning on leaving him alone for three months."

Orion's eyes widened, and he gasped out, "How do you know that?"

"Please," scoffed Snape sneeringly, "you've told Lupin, your mutt of a father, Grindelwald and I, all about your giddy eagerness to go to Zraven Citadel for a whole month during these summer holidays. Not to mention that you'll undoubtedly want to undergo this Necromantic training, which you refuse to give details about, right after that. And it takes two months, doesn't it? So during that time-period, where will Draco live and how are you planning to make sure that he's safe?"

Orion frowned pensively, and at last said quietly, "I think we both know that the safest place for Draco is this very Manor-"

"Yes," interrupted Snape sharply, "but he shouldn't be left alone."

"I was going to say that as well, if you would have let me finish," snapped Orion hotly, his patience with the man having blown out the window a long time ago. "Look, I have some ideas in mind, but I'll tell you once everything is settled."

"Very well," said Snape curtly, swiftly standing up to tower over him, pinning him with a hard gaze. "I'll tell the Dark Lord that you want to attend the next Dark Allies Meeting, but you can't avoid him forever, brat. He's expecting you to come back with news of who took Draco and he's expecting you to return the Gaunt ring to him. The longer you avoid him, the worse it will be for all of us."

Orion sulkily scowled at him. "I'm not…" He sighed, and carded his fingers through his hair. "Fine, I am avoiding him. As you said, I have many secrets to keep from him and he already knows more than I would like. I simply don't know how to keep fooling him."

"Either kill him," hissed out Snape impatiently, "or, if you moronically insist on postponing the inevitable, think of something that will assuage his suspicions and stop whining."

And with that, the wizard swiftly stalked towards the door, with black robes billowing behind him, as if spending another minute with such daft company was a waste of his valuable time.

"Bastard," grumbled Orion under his breath.

Snape shot him a narrowed glance over the shoulder, and Orion immediately spread a dazzling smile over his face, gingerly waving a hand at him. The wizard's expression soured, the man's lips curling, before he left the room, slamming the door shut.

Smirking, for rubbing Snape the wrong way was always fun, Orion stood up and once more reached the bed. He gazed down at Draco, and seeing no other sign of improvement except some color in the boy's face, he sighed.

He trailed his fingertips along Draco's cheek, and a pensive frown spread over Orion's forehead, as he said quietly, "A diamond in the brute, eh? A worthy and loyal right-hand…"

Shaking his head, he dropped his hand away. He would think about that later. Besides, it still remained to be seen what Draco's condition would be once the boy woke up. Without another thought, he promptly called for Daisy and once she popped in to continue watching over Draco, he immediately left the room.

He found Grindelwald in the same sitting room he had left him in. The wizard was slumped on an armchair, dozing off; the man's handsome, aged features completely relaxed, as if he had no worries in the world.

Orion conjured a blanket and draped it over the slumbering wizard. Then, he gazed at him in silence for a while, and at last, feeling tired and overburdened, he brushed away a blond and gray curl of hair from the wizard's face, and whispered curtly, "Fine, Gellert, you win. I'll kill you tomorrow."

He spun around and made way to his bedroom, too exhausted to care about anything except getting a good night sleep, since the next day would change many things. And in parting, he missed the small, satisfied smile which tugged Grindelwald's lips.


	24. The barge in the lake & the Holy One

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 24 **

…_Wizards fiercely fighting against wizards in the midst of the night… dark creatures, vampires, werewolves, attacking and ripping limbs, the flash and clink of swords… screams and wails of pain and shouted incantations… there was magic pulsing in the air, vibrating all around them… the carnage was brutal… and in the midst, a lone figure, untouched by the violence and surrounded by wizards and creatures who fought in front of him, as if creating a protective circle around him…_

"_Yes…yes," whispered an enticing, lulling voice, "come to me, my child… I'm waiting… longing for you… so close…"_

_A handsome, cold, and ruthless face with intense all-black eyes which surveyed the carnage in front of him with impassivity... A fear-gripping, powerful aura of dark magic pulsed violently around him…_

…_.A wizard with black hair and green eyes was cradling a baby in his arms, a beautiful baby girl with wisps of black hair, her eyes closed while he lovingly rocked her, his body trembling, hunched protectively, while his green eyes were unfocused, tormented, pained, and brokenly sorrowful…_

…_Wizards and creatures ran into a battle, a wizard continuously swished his wand through the air… His raw magic funneled into a massively destructive force which flooded outward like a wave intent on destroying everything in its path… Dark magic shot from his hands, striking enemies within reach… torn bodies soon dropping dead with a last agonizing scream…_

"_Feel it," whispered the enticing voice, "See it… after today, you'll be one step closer, my child…"_

_A frenetic chant that became louder with each heart beat… like drums being banged wildly, increasing in tempo, as two words were repeated by a large crowd of eager voices… "Lord Black… Lord Black… Lord Black…"_

_Intense, all-black eyes looked unfeelingly at a weakened wizard. "Just tell me why, Tom..."_

…_An old woman raked a long, sharp fingernail across a wizard's cheek, his green eyes wide, observing her, as his skin broke along the fine cut, small drops of blood dribbling down his jaw._

_Her intense obsidian eyes glowed while she smudged her fingertip with his blood, bringing it her mouth. A red tongue flicked out and quickly licked the blood from her fingertip, and she closed her eyes, slightly tilting her head backwards._

"_Hmm… Perfection… at last… I've waited for you…" she whispered in a low, deep and eerie voice, her words cutting through the deadly silence of the room…_

"_Why, you ask? Is it not plain enough to you, Orion?" Crimson eyes flashed in anger and fury, but also with an unvoiced plea. "I DID IT FOR US! -- I DID IT FOR YOU!" The wizard shakily advanced forwards and clasped the other wizard's shoulders. "I ASK YOU TO SAVE SOME PART OF US!"_

"_You did it for yourself," said the other wizard, his voice cold, unforgiving, his all-black eyes glowing._

…_A chant became reverent, high-pitched and eager as the fighting continued… voices became zealous, fervent and feverish as they screamed a name as if it was their battle-cry, while swords were plunged and dark curses bellowed… "Lord Black!… Vindico!… Vindico!… Vindico!…"_

"_Yes," whispered the enticing voice, "… accept it… fulfill it… this is you, my child… I'm waiting…"_

…_A tall young man with long black hair and slightly slanted pale blue eyes was softly kissing a wizard slumped against a wall, green eyes wide and dazed as the other deepened the kiss hungrily, demandingly, but also gently. There was warmth, belonging, and urgency as their clothed bodies writhed together, each gripping the other closer._

_Pale blue eyes darkened with need. "Do you feel it – our blood bond calling us to complete it? This was meant to be, dragostea mea. I won't let you go again. I will not lose you again. I can't."_

_Incisors sharpened and elongated, and they sank into the smaller wizard's neck, green eyes glazing with fevered need and desire before they rolled, and the wizard sagged against the taller young man who moaned and kept drinking..._

"_I've allowed you to live for this long because of what we once shared," said a toneless, ruthless voice, all-black eyes cold. "I can't afford to postpone it any longer. It would always end like this, Tom."_

"_I'm waiting, my child," whispered the enticing voice. "You're almost ready… come to me…"_

…_An intense, black blast of magic seemed to plunge into a wizard's chest, as if a hand was gripping something inside and pulling it out. The wizard violently convulsed, his crimson eyes wide, and he screamed in agony as his flesh started to be ripped apart by the black magic coming from a wizard with cold, unemotional all-black eyes._

_The air became unbearably heavy as the dark magic finally pulled a ghostly shape from the wizard's body, and with a last agonizing scream, the wizard dropped to the ground, his corpse only a torn mass of flesh, the crimson eyes wide, empty and lifeless..._

_The remaining wizard's hands shook as the trapped ghostly form began to violently twist; unearthly, high-pitched wails and shrieks of agony pierced the deathly silence of the vast landscape._

_Dark magic poured from the wizard with all-black eyes, the magic going into a dark sphere as it plunged into the ghostly shape, savagely ripping it to pieces._

_The wails decreased and finally silenced, when the ghostly form was reduced to nothingness, ceasing to exist with a blast of powerful dark magic exploding from the empty sphere…_

_The wizard dropped his hands and his all-black eyes glanced at the corpse at his feet, staring unemotionally at the crimson, lifeless eyes, as he whispered coldly, "There's nothing left of you now. Good-bye, Tom."_

…_Magic smothering him, muted voices yelling in the background, someone pressing him against a wall, cerulean blue eyes hungrily inspecting him, as a strangely accented voice breathed out exultantly, "I've waited so long to meet you, Orion… do you know what my names mean? … holy one, that of a golden life, though my life has been anything but golden…and my middle name, in muggle Greek mythology, the name of a Titan who presided over the Sun and Light! Oui, that's me!" An angelic smile spreading, but there was a dangerous threat behind it, the smile amused, warm, yet something menacing lurked behind. _

_Waves upon waves of pain…a maelstrom of darkness encompassing a convulsing body in the midst of whiteness… heat against snow, a piercing scream thundering in the silence, as an enticing female voice crooned a continuous and victorious "Yes."_

"_Yes, after today," whispered softly the enticing female voice, "you'll almost be… after today…"_

Gasping, almost choking out his heavy breaths, Orion's eyes snapped open, his limbs jerkily flailing with a volition of their own, as if they could swat away bad dreams. Before he knew it, he became entangled in his bed covers and crashed against the floor with a painful thud.

Shaking his head, dispelling away his sleepiness, he jumped to his feet, his breathing heavy and panted. His gaze scanned the room, wild and alarmed, before he calmed himself down when he saw that he was in the master bedroom of Potter Manor. Sunlight was already spearing through his curtained windows.

Orion checked his wristwatch, learning that it was ten in the morning, that he had slept for about six hours, and that he didn't have a second to lose. He had to get ready to go to Durmstrang, but before that, he needed to get his answers from Grindelwald. But, as he quickly entered the bathroom to get ready for what would undoubtedly be a long and taxing day, not to mention that it was the day in which he would kill a wizard he deeply esteemed, he couldn't stop thinking about the visions he had had.

He fiercely rubbed his forehead as he ducked under the stream of warm water. He felt his muscles relaxing, the tension dripping away with the water which flowed from the showerhead. But he still felt tired. He felt that he had been restless during his sleep, his troubles not melting away in his slumber, but persisting throughout his dream-filled night. And the visions….

What did they mean? Orion bit his lower lip as he spread the soapy foam on his skin. Lezander and he together again, the vampire sinking his teeth into his neck… Were they sharing blood ? Were they sharing blood and about to have sex, about to complete the bond between them? And the old woman raking a fingernail along his cheek, tasting his blood, calling it perfection. That had to be the Kraljica Mati, he had no doubt about it. And her voice, it was similar to the enticing, lulling voice which always called to him in his dreams, wasn't it? Was it her giving him these visions, attempting to show him the way, even if he didn't want to travel the path she showed him?

And him killing Voldemort, annihilating the master soul with his Necromantic power, obviously already having destroyed the wizard's horcruxes… That vision still persisted, as the others. Nothing had changed. And, admittedly, his latest actions had probably propelled him towards that ending with Voldemort… But he had to do something to prevent that from happening! Surely he would never find a reason to completely dispose of Voldemort, surely not! But the baby, he still had the vision about his baby girl…

Orion's troubled frown deepened as he touched his flat belly. Could Grindelwald's suspicions be correct? But he didn't feel anything inside him. He shook his head and slammed his fists against the tilled wall. Even if Grindelwald was right about Voldemort having done something to him so that he would be withchild without knowing, there wasn't anything he could do about it. He could only confront Voldemort and hope that it wasn't true, and if it was… Well, Voldemort would know what pain truly meant. But if that was it, he wouldn't go as far as to kill the wizard for that reason alone… not unless… He shook his head. He didn't know what to make of it. And he wouldn't think of it until he had to cross that bridge, because…

Because above all other things, what disturbed him the most were the two new visions. The one about the heat and snow, the waves of pain he had felt through the vision, the blackness, the enticing voice crooning victoriously… What was that? What was the Kraljica Mati celebrating? Moreover, who was the wizard who had him against a wall? That snippet of a vision was unclear, he didn't remember seeing anything but the smile, so outwardly innocent and angelic, yet threatening. The vision about the unknown wizard troubled him greatly, because it was the first vision he had had which was so foggy and clouded, without allowing him to see who the wizard was. That was a first. And he still felt what it had been like to be in the presence of the mysterious wizard, he remembered the feeling of the magic which had been pressing in on him, and it felt unfamiliar, strange, but very powerful, sofocantingly so.

And the wizard's voice, for it was certain that it came from a male, had been so weirdly accented, as if pertaining to someone who had lived in countless countries, a mesh of many accents… But the 'oui' he remembered was telling, it had been a Frenchman. Who? Who could be spouting about the meanings of his names? Golden life? And the name of a Titan of Greek mythology?

He raked his brain for an answer but unless he went hunting into the library to peruse several books, he couldn't remember off the top of his head. He would certainly look into it when he came back to the Manor, after having…

Orion sighed and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He would look into it after he was done with his duties for the day, after he killed Grindelwald. He had already made up his mind about that. Gellert was right, he had to keep his end of the bargain and he couldn't postpone it any longer, no matter how much he would like to. The wizard was a threat to him, just as Snape had said. The longer Grindelwald lived, the longer the wizard would be affected by the pull of his dark magic, and the greater the chances that the wizard gave into temptation and tried to kill him and Voldemort, to absorb their dark magic and get his hands on the Hallows. He didn't want that to happen, and neither did Grindelwald, so the decision was already made.

He pushed all thoughts about that and his visions to a side, focusing on the present, and he started to get ready for the day. He glanced once at his trunk, but decided that he wouldn't take his daily potion. If he didn't drink it that morning then by nightfall he would already be feeling the withdrawal effects and he would be entering the week of disintoxication by the next day. And that was perfectly timed. What better moment to feel feverish and unconscious than after having killed Grindelwald, so that he was too out of it to dwell on the matter? And he wanted his dark magical aura to flare out naturally as soon as possible, in time for the Dark Allies Meeting, so that they would feel how powerful he had become. He was quite curious himself.

Orion was fully dressed now, staring into his impeccably groomed reflection in the full-body mirror in his bedroom. He had chosen his most impressive robes; impressive in the manner that they made him look mature, imposing, and stern. They were all black, of a rich and airy material that was perfect for that summer day, with the Black family crest embroidered with silver thread on cuffs and lapels. They were the perfect attire in which to make his 'speech' before the congregated students of Durmstrang.

Only two things about him needed to be corrected. He solved the first by waving his wand at his face, casting a glamour which effectively concealed the dark circles under his eyes. And he solved the second by piercing his fingertip with a conjured needle, smudging his blood on his forehead, chanting the blood-spell under his breath, and then cleaning his forehead with a flick of his wand. And there it was once more, after years of not having seen it; the lightning bolt-shaped scar which would remind everyone that he had been the one to kill Voldemort when he had been but a mere baby. That famous scar which would renew rumors wondering about the power held by the Boy-Who-Lived.

He trailed a fingertip along the scar, his eyes focused on its reflection, as he felt a warm tingling under his touch. Even if he hadn't seen that scar in years, it called forth a myriad of memories and thoughts. It was Voldemort's mark on him, a reminder of the unbreakable bond between them, that of master soul and horcrux. But it also reminded him of being ten-years-old, of discovering who his real father was, of learning about his true dark heritage, and also about Tom. Besides Calypso and Lezander, and later, briefly, Voldemort, he had showed his scar to locket-Tom, so very long ago. And he couldn't help but feel some sort of sad melancholy accompanying those reminiscences.

He was still caressing the scar when an agonizing scream cut through the silence, reverberating through the thick walls of Potter Manor. Startled, he spun around, just in the same second that Dobby popped before him.

The house-elf rocked on his feet, wringing his small hands together, as he cried, "Master Orion, sir, you must come, it's Master Draco-"

Orion was pelting out of the room before Dobby finished. Walls and doors flashed through his vision and he finally yanked open the door of his destination and hurtled inside the room. All color drained from his face and a horrified expression spread over his features when he took in the scene before him.

Draco seemed to be screaming himself raw, the boy had his eyes closed, the handsome, gaunt face scrunched in agony as he violently convulsed on the bed. Daisy was on top of him, trying to force down the flailing limbs, and she was undoubtedly using some of her elfish magic to accomplish it. Apparently, the young wizard was still unconscious under the healing coma, but the boy's fingers were brutally clawing his left forearm.

The violently trembling limb was covered in deep wedges gushing with thick blood, Draco's fingernails only making the wounds worse. And in a brief second, when Daisy managed to rip Draco's clawing fingers from the arm, he saw the mark on the boy's savaged forearm. The distorted Dark Mark was writhing on the raised and bloodied skin, the snake uncoiling from the skull's jaws, and travelling along the forearm, hissing as the skin she slid on broke into more gashes, Draco's unwitting scream becoming louder.

In a flash, Orion reached the bed, damning Voldemort to the deepest pits of hell. He knew it would happen, Alecto Carrow had said it herself that the wizard could torture his followers by the use of the Dark Mark, no matter the distance, but he had hoped that Voldemort wouldn't act so soon. He had hoped that the wizard would wait for news from him, before deciding to torture Draco by this means. And he knew what Voldemort's aim was; to kill Draco, once and for all.

He immediately pinned Draco down with his own body, locking his legs with the boy's convulsing ones, and using all his considerable strength to clutch the boy's wrists above his head. He could do nothing about Draco's screams, and he had to shout to be heard over it, as he glanced at Daisy, "I've got him! Where's Gellert?!"

The house-elf dropped away from the bed, looking as tired as he felt, and she promptly replied, "Master Orion's guest has been in the gardens since he woke up, sir."

"Get him in here!" snapped Orion, and she popped away without another word.

He would never doubt her efficiency, for in the next second the door was yanked open, and Grindelwald ran into the room.

"What's all this ruckus about-"

The words died on the German wizard's lips, and before Orion could even blink, a beam of light shot from the wizard's wand and struck Draco's arm.

Instantly, a blue glow encompassed Draco's forearm, forming what looked like a tube of magic constricting around the limb. Draco's body stilled, slumping unto the bed, looking deeply asleep once more. Given that the boy hadn't awoken, despite the pain he had obviously been in, it was certain that Petra had casted a very powerful healing coma on the young wizard, and it slightly relieved him. Furthermore, he watched, entranced, how the skin of Draco's forearm started to knit itself, the deep gashes mending. It was a sign of what he had been hoping for; Draco's body had taken well to Lezander's blood, and was now healing much faster than normal.

"You did give him the vampire boy's blood, then. That is why you wrote to him, ja?"

Orion snapped his head around, and he curtly nodded at Grindelwald, before he climbed off the bed.

"What," he croaked out, before he cleared his throat and said more clearly, "What spell did you use on him?"

Grindelwald still had his hawk-like gaze fixed on Draco's forearm, as he waved a hand dismissively. "I could teach it to you, mein junge, but it would be pointless. It's only a temporary solution." The wizard's hazel eyes snapped to bore into his, as he added sternly, "It only lasts for a few hours and even if you spent every second with him, recasting it when it faded away, its effects dwindles over time. It doesn't undo the dark magic of the brand on that boy's forearm. A magical brand, like the Dark Mark, binds itself to the magical core of the bearer, mein junge. Nothing can dissolve that link except-"

"I know," interrupted Orion, his jaw clenched. "That's why I asked Calypso, a few weeks back, to look into it. I wanted to be prepared, mostly if it occurred to Voldemort to use it against my father, but I was also thinking about Draco." He sighed, and carded his fingers through his hair. "We must leave for Durmstrang straight away. Besides all the other stuff, now I need to see Calypso and I also need to sit down with Vagnarov. There's much I have to ask of him."

"I'm ready, mein junge," said Grindelwald placidly.

Orion wrenched his gaze away from Draco, to inspect the wizard, having heard the veiled, satisfied tone in the wizard's voice. The first thing he noticed was that the wizard was showing no signs of a hung over. In fact, the man looked like a mature wizard in his prime, teeming with energy and good-health. That only served to confirm his suspicions that Grindelwald's drunken state of last night had been a charade. Then he noticed the wizard's formal attire; an elegant and rich ensemble of starched, black shirt, silk, dark red cravat, velvety, gray and form-fitting vest, finished with a parted black robe, and pants tucked into black, dragonhide boots . The wizard looked every inch a Dark Lord; a reigning one, at that.

As his gaze travelled up to lock with Grindelwald's hazel eyes, he found himself being inspected in return. The wizard's lips quirked into a crooked smirk, and then an eyebrow arched when the man's gaze landed on the revealed lighting bolt-shaped scar.

"You look like a young Dark Lord, mein junge," said the wizard at last, a hint of pride in the smooth voice.

Orion let out a soft chuckle. "I was thinking the same thing about you." He shot the wizard his own smirk. "Except the young part, of course."

"Don't get impertinent, junge," said Grindelwald, his smirk turning smug as he settled a hand on Orion's shoulder and started to lead him to the doorway. "I know very well that I could pass off as your older brother."

Orion snorted, but didn't comment. The wizard was obviously in a good mood and he had no wish to ruin it, not yet. It hadn't escaped his notice that the German wizard hadn't asked any questions regarding the consequences of Draco having taken Lezander's blood. And apparently the wizard didn't have any intention to address the matters that still lingered between them. He had half a mind to tell Grindelwald about his new visions, but he discarded the idea almost immediately. It was obvious that the wizard was still with the attitude of refusing to discuss 'serious matters', and he would oblige as much as he could. Regrettably for Grindelwald, he wasn't willing to let go of the unanswered questions that pended between them since last night. But there would be time for that later.

He looked over his shoulder, to glance worriedly at Draco, but he found himself being pushed through the threshold by Grindewald, as the wizard said quietly, "The Malfoy Heir will be fine for several hours. There's nothing to be concerned about, for now."

Orion peeled his gaze away from Draco, and nodded, before he followed the wizard to one of Potter Manor's parlors. When they reached one of the fireplaces with floo connection, Grindelwald abruptly halted and turned around to face him.

Before he could even question the man, Grindelwald waved a hand and a rolled piece of parchment came shooting from the wizard's pocket, and it was swiftly handed over to him.

"I need your signature on that parchment, mein junge. And ask that adoring fan of yours to fetch you Gryffindor's Sword, you'll need it."

Orion frowned at the wizard, but didn't hesitate to obey the last part and promptly called, "Dobby!"

In the bat of an eyelash, the house-elf popped before him, and he commanded shortly, giving the creature no time to pipe in a word, "Get me the sword that's in my room."

The moment Dobby disappeared to do his bidding, and deciding to address the sword-matter right after, he unrolled the piece of parchment and swiftly read its contents. His eyes widened and anger swiftly swelled in him with each word he read.

He was about to demand explanations when the house-elf popped in, holding the sheathed sword in his hands. Orion ripped it from the creature's grasp, and barked, "Leave us!"

Dobby's eyes widened, shooting an uneasy glance from one to the other, surely feeling the tension. But the house-elf squeaked and disappeared when Orion leveled him with a glare.

Once they were alone, Orion tightened his fingers around the parchment in a crumbling grasp, and gazed up at Grindelwald as he hissed out, "What's the meaning of this? A non-aggression pact, already signed by you and Dumbledore?! How, why-"

"If you read it carefully," interjected Grindelwald coolly, "you'll see that it only applies for when the three of us are gathered together at the Rhine Falls in Switzerland-"

"I noticed that-"

"After my meeting with Albus is over," continued Grindelwald nonchalantly, "and once he leaves, the magical contract is null." He shot him a wide smirk. "You can do whatever you like to Albus after that, mein junge."

"Yes," snapped Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes, as he waved the crumbled piece of parchment in front of the wizard's face, "I know what this says. But I want to know when and how you got him to sign this! And you can't expect me to-"

"I wrote to him an hour ago," interrupted Grindewald impassively. "I sent the letter by owl and I had no doubt that he would receive it, even if he has surely made himself untraceable. After last night, he knew I would contact him since he must have foreseen that I would want to meet him." He leveled him with a hard gaze, and added sternly, "I told you yesterday that I had every intention of seeing him one last time."

"Yes, you did," said Orion crisply, "but I thought it was a mere desire, not that you would go through with it!" He glared at him, as he added hotly, "You expect me to stand there while you chat with Dumbledore, with him holding the Elder Wand, and do nothing about it?!"

"Ja, that's exactly what I expect you to do," said Grindelwald calmly. "I haven't told him that you're killing me, of course, or given him any indication, so he has no reason to mess with our plans. Indeed, I'm certain he merely thinks that I wish to discuss what he told you during your confrontation."

Orion pinned him with his gaze, closely regarding him, and demanded sharply, "What are you going to discuss with him, then?"

"Personal matters," replied Grindelwald shortly. "I want to settle my affairs with him, before I die-"

"And you think he won't suspect?" snapped Orion, feeling increasingly annoyed but also troubled. "If you address the personal issues between you, he'll surely know that I'm going to kill you! He knows what the prophecy means, he must suspect that if I kill you I'll absorb your dark magic-"

"But he doesn't believe you're capable of killing me, mein junge," interrupted Grindelwald, his tone of voice growing impatient and stern. "He knows we've been mentor and pupil all this time, and he certainly suspects that you've grown attached to me. He has reasons to believe that you would never kill me, even if it meant that you would grow more powerful. He thinks he knows you well enough to be assured of that."

"He does know me more than I would wish," darkly muttered Orion, before he narrowed his eyes at the wizard. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all-"

"I could meet him by myself," offered Grindelwald placidly, shooting him a smirk.

"Not a chance," instantly bit out Orion. "I'm going with you. Merlin knows what you'd do if you went trotting around unsupervised."

Grindelwald's smirk widened as he gazed at him expectantly, and quite pointedly. Orion shot him a glower, before he focused back on the parchment, rereading it. After making sure that all the details were to his satisfaction -somewhat, given the circumstances he was being forced to accept- he swiftly waved a hand, conjuring an inked quill. The moment he signed his name, the parchment flashed with a golden glow, rolled itself and then disappeared into thin air.

"Gut," said Grindelwald with satisfaction. "We can go now, mein junge."

Orion snapped his head up to glare at him again. He was quite miffed about the whole matter. He didn't appreciate unexpected things popping up during that day in particular. The German wizard should have damn well told him about such plans before now. But, on the other hand, this was Grindelwald's last day alive, so the wizard was entitled to do whatever he fancied –within limits. Well, he supposed that he couldn't forbid Grindelwald to see Dumbledore one last time; he had no right to do so, for starters.

He let out a sigh, and glanced down at the sword in his hands, as he muttered, "And why do you want me to bring this along?"

"You're going to kill me with it," said Grindelwald cheerfully.

"What?" croaked out Orion, gazing up at him with round eyes. "The blade is imbued with basilisk poison, if I use it your death will be very painful and slow, Gellert! I was planning on casting the Killing Curse. That's swift and painless-"

"What can I say, mein junge?" interjected Grindelwald, toothily grinning at him. "I find it poetically ironic to die under Gryffindor's sword. A Dark Lord felled by a Light artifact, that's a much more impressive way to go than being simply offed by a boring Avada Kedavra, wouldn't you say?"

Orion opened his mouth, about to tell the man exactly what he thought about that stupid idea, but the wizard held up a hand, and murmured softly, "You could grant this old man his last wish on how he wants to pass away, mein junge. Don't allow history books to say that Lord Grindelwald was unceremoniously executed with a Killing Curse."

"Fine," grunted Orion, before he leveled him with an annoyed glare, "but keep your emotional manipulations to yourself, Gellert. You win – again."

The vulnerable expression on the wizard's face faded in a second, to be replaced by an unabashedly satisfied smirk, as the man patted Orion on the shoulder. "You're a good friend, mein junge. I couldn't have wished for a better-"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Orion, while he looped the sheath's strap around his torso, leaving the sword securely settled against his back, "spare me the sentimental crap, old man. I know you don't mean it."

Abruptly, Grindelwald seized Orion's chin, lifting it up as he intently bore his hazel eyes into his green ones, staying silent for a moment before he said quietly, "I am fond of you, mein junge. I tell no lies. I-"

"Not now," interrupted Orion stiffly, taking a step back and quickly digging a hand into the jar on top of the fireplace's mantelpiece, getting a fistful of floo powder. "We need to get to Durmstrang, Gellert. We'll talk later."

Grindelwald dropped his hand from Orion's face, and nodded, before he said curtly, "I think it would be best if you casted the parsel-invisibility spell on me, mein junge. Reveal me when you've already gathered the students."

"Alright," said Orion, before he swiftly aimed his wand at the wizard and hissed the spell, quickly followed by a muting charm to the man's boots.

Without wasting any more time, he stepped into the fireplace, flinging the floo powder when he felt Grindelwald grasping his arm to let him know he was inside as well.

"Headmaster's office, Durmstrang!"

* * *

Orion stepped out of the dwindling green flames, swishing his wand to clean the soot from his robes. The moment he glanced around Vagnarov's office, he knew something was not right. The Headmaster was nowhere to be seen, and there were several open trunks partly filled with books, framed pictures and other personal possessions. The shelves around the office were mostly empty, and the large, ornate desk was void from the usual trinkets and stacks of parchment.

Alarm swept over him, his mind racing frantically, several explanations popping forth. Vagnarov was leaving the school, or perhaps fleeing? Why? Had news about what had happened last night at Hogwarts already reached every confine of the wizarding world? If so, had Vagnarov decided it was best to leave, or perhaps the Spirits had forced the wizard to do so. But, again, why? Or was it something worse…

Something lodged in Orion's throat, and he was pelting down the stairs before he knew it, running towards the sixth year's common room, to find Calypso as soon as possible. His anxiousness increased with each rushed step he took since every corridor he ran along was empty, a strange silence creeping throughout the castle. There was an ominous lack of students walking to their classes, of teachers' lectures seeping through classroom doors. In its stead, there was absolute silence, not a footfall could be heard or a face seen. The school seemed to be utterly empty.

Finally, he barged into his common room, but only found the same; there was no one there. He was about to spin around when he caught sight of something at the edge of his vision. Orion instantly reached one of the large windows of the tower and gazed at the scene before him, down by the lake.

Every student seemed to be congregated at the school grounds, standing in numerous lines before the lake, with their backs turned to the castle. He distinguished that they were all wearing Durmstrang's formal robes; dark red robes lined with fur, despite that it was already summer, capes draped over one shoulder, the hems of the girls' dresses flittering in the breeze. The teachers were also there, along with numerous other adults which he didn't recognize from that distance. And everyone seemed to be gazing at something in the lake, some heads bowed, some shoulders slumped, but most of them rigidly still.

Orion hitched in a breath before he rushed out of the deserted room. In mid sprint, he waved his wand at his torso, hissing under his breath as he casted the parsel-invisibility spell on himself. The immense front doors of the castle were wide open, draped in black hangings, and he rushed out. As he approached the large congregation of people, he spotted Calypso among the rest of the Elite and he inched his way towards her, careful of not bumping into anyone.

Some pompous-looking old wizard was spouting some sort of mournful speech, seemingly respectful and grieved while singing the praises of the man they were burying. But Orion was barely paying any attention, since from what he heard the wizard knew next to nothing about the man. Instead, as he got closer, his gaze solely focused on his friends.

A surge of grief encompassed him when he saw Titania openly crying on Viktor's shoulder, the usually buoyant and bragging young wizard wearing a glum expression on his face while he soothingly rubbed his girlfriend's back. By the couples' side, Evander was tightly hugging Kara against his chest, her teary face partly hidden in the crook of the boy's neck. Artemisa and Hector were standing to their left in complete silence, while Wenceslas had an arm over Laiana's small shoulders. Kasimir and Alexios were standing rock still, shoulder to shoulder, but their hands were clasped together, and Geodrof, by their side, had one arm wrapped comfortingly around Dravana's waist.

All their gazes were fixed on the lake, and Orion knew what he would find there. Indeed, when his eyes finally searched the surface, he saw a small barge rocking gently in the rippling water, slowly getting farther away from the shore. He could see the outline of a body there, covered by a black mantle.

He moved to stand besides Calypso, and whispered dully, "When did it happen?"

She sucked in a breath, her black eyes marginally widening, as she whispered back, "Orion?"

"Yeah," he said numbly.

Calypso's shoulders stiffened, and he saw her surreptitiously taking her wand out and flicking it, casting a muting charm around them. Yet, she didn't turn her face around. She kept her gaze fixed forward, her lips barely moving as she said urgently, "I've been sending you letters for the past two hours-"

"All letters addressed to me go to Black Manor," interjected Orion swiftly, "and my house-elf hasn't been there yet to retrieve any."

"You shouldn't have come," she snapped, before a sob escaped her lips. She shook her head, and instantly pulled herself together as she muttered worriedly, "That's what I told you in my letters. It's dangerous for you to be here-"

"When did it happen?" demanded Orion again.

Calypso's shoulders slumped, and she murmured tearily, "Headmaster Vagnarov was found dead in his bed this morning. He… he died in his sleep during the night, Orion."

That thing constricting his throat seemed to mercilessly clench harder, and he bowed down his head to rub his forehead, as he muttered, "I was in his office last night. I was but a few steps away from his chambers. I could have-"

"There's nothing you could have done," bit out Calypso. Her voice broke and she cleared her throat to continue softly, "He died of old age, it was a painless and peaceful death."

Suddenly, he felt her hand brushing his side, searching for something. He understood immediately and clasped her hand in his, lending her the comfort she was seeking but not voicing.

Calypso's grasp tightened and he could feel the tension coming off her as she said sharply, "The ceremonial speech is about to conclude, you missed the whole thing, and you shouldn't be here anyway. Are you mad, Orion? It's all over the newspapers, how you killed Dumbledore-"

"I didn't," interjected Orion gloomily.

A frown spread over her face, but she still kept her gaze fixed ahead, as she continued just as sternly, "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter either that you're under an invisibility spell, you shouldn't be here! People are looking for you. Look to your left!"

Orion did exactly that and his gaze landed on the adults who were attending the funerary ceremony. Petra Podroff and the rest of the teachers were there, among other wizards and witches, who, given their superior attittude and the sash they were wearing with Durmstrang's crest, had to be part of the school's Board of Governors. But he also recognized others from newspapers' wizarding pictures; the German Minister of Magic was in attendance, along with the Ministers of Bulgaria, Austria, Poland, Russia, Sweden, and –last, but certainly not least, given what it meant for him- was the Danish Minister of Magic, flanked by stern-looking wizards wearing dark violet robes – Danish Aurors.

"They were the first to arrive," murmured Calypso anxiously, casting a glance at them. "They searched the school, obviously looking for you. And there are rumors that they're going to be posted here for some time."

Orion frowned worriedly, biting his lower lip. "Then I have to talk to…" He sideways glanced at her, his frown deepening. "…to the new Headmaster. Who-"

The question died on his lips when silence spread through the gathering, the pompous old wizard who had been giving the speech turning to stand besides the Danish Minister of Magic. A wizard in his early thirties stepped forward, richly clothed, looking imposing and grave as he waved a hand and a long, ornate bow glowed into existence. The handsome man stood by the shore, in front of everyone who remained respectfully quiet, only a few sobs breaking the silence. The wizard skillfully maneuvered the bow, with an arrow propped, its tip suddenly bursting with flames.

"No, not him," croaked out Orion, horrified. "Not Komorov."

But there was no denying. It was Roman Komorov who was now arching the bow, making the arrow ready to fly. It was Komorov taking the traditional place of the new Headmaster of Durmstrang, as Vagnarov must have done in the past when they retrieved what was left of Karkaroff's body, in order to incinerate the deceased Headmaster with an arrow ignited by a Fiendfyre spell.

"Who else could it have been?" said Calypso under her breath. "It's obvious that the Aux always… nudge some minds to make sure that the Board of Governors choose who the Spirits want to be the next Headmaster. And the Spirits always make the Aux Atrum's leader the Headmaster, don't they?" She shook her head, and muttered pointedly, "This works to your benefit-"

"It doesn't," bit out Orion crisply. "Komorov hates my guts."

"I'm sure it isn't as bad as that," she said quietly, not sounding too certain.

Orion clenched his jaw, but remained silent as he observed the new Headmaster of the school. Komorov's handsome face held a grave and closed off expression, nothing giving away the slightest hint of grief, though he knew that the wizard had been close to Vagnarov. In the next second, the bow was arched tautly, and in the next moment the ignited arrow was sizzling through the air. It struck the distant barge, and suddenly the whole thing exploded into flames, a wild fire consuming everything it touched.

He could discern the outline of Vagnarov's body being encompassed by the flames, the bulk under the burning black mantle quickly being reduced in size. And in mere seconds, there was nothing left; no vessel, no body, no fire, nothing, the lake's surface once more smooth and undisturbed.

A sob escaped from Calypso, and he quickly tightened the hand he had clasped around hers, as she muttered quietly, "Where has Vagnarov's remains gone to? Surely they-"

"To the Catacombs," interrupted Orion curtly. "I saw Karkaroff's tomb case there, so Komorov must have made space for Vagnarov… for Vagnarov's ashes…"

He shook his head, and stiffly let go of Calypso's hand, taking a step back.

"Where are you going?" asked Calypso, her voice alarmed, though she was still looking ahead, nothing giving away that there was someone by her side.

"I don't want people bumping into me on their way back," replied Orion hastily, shifting to a side just in time before a boy slammed into him. "I'll meet you in your father's classroom. There's much we need to talk about."

She nodded, and surreptitiously flicked her wand, cancelling the spell which had been silencing their whole conversation, before she turned towards Kara and Titania. Orion carefully but quickly swerved through the crowd, and once he reached the school's entrance, he slumped against the thick walls of the school. He observed in somber silence how the gathering dissolved; students returning to the school, Ministers of Magic having some words with Komorov before disapparating or portkeying, teachers grimly whispering among themselves, and his friends jointly marching into Durmstrang. Thankfully, it didn't seem that Calypso had told them about his presence there, but they were certainly worried and nervous. As they passed by him, he couldn't catch snippets of their hushed conversation, but Titania's expression was anxious and troubled, and Evander was now holding a newspaper in his hands, showing it to Viktor as they entered the school.

Finally, there was no one left on the grounds except Komorov, the Danish Minister of Magic and the wizard's clique of Aurors, and Orion intently watched them with a frown on his face. They seemed to be having an argument of some sort. The Danish Minister was gesturing at the Aurors, while Komorov was curtly shaking his head, only a hint of anger flickering across the man's handsome yet stern features.

Abruptly, a hand landed on his shoulder and Orion almost jumped into the air, before he remembered that Grindelwald had been there with him the whole time. He had forgotten about the man's invisible presence.

"You have my condolescences, mein junge," whispered a voice into his ear. "This must be an unexpected blow for you."

Orion side-glanced at where he thought the wizard was, and murmured, "I knew he was ill. I knew this would happen eventually." He shrugged his shoulders, and added shortly, "It's alright. I'm fine."

"I know you esteemed the old wizard-"

"I said I'm fine," snapped Orion sharply, tightly fisting his hands. "I don't want to talk about Vagnarov, Gellert. I don't want to talk about anything right now."

The hand on his shoulder dropped away, and he was silently thankful that Grindelwald didn't decide to press the matter. Really, the last thing he wanted was to think about Vagnarov's death. He had known it would happen someday, but it still seemed to be very sudden. Moreover, he had counted on Vagnarov's help and now he would have to deal with Komorov instead. Not to mention that Vagnarov had been the only wizard he could go to for certain things, the only man he felt comfortable enough with to discuss fully his plans of becoming a Necromancer, or about his past lifes. And now… and now Vagnarov was no more.

And he felt that constricting thing lodging in his throat again, and the lack of something. Much like the gaping hole he had felt in his chest when he had seen Draco's condition. And now he felt something like it again, added to the knowledge that he would be killing Grindelwald in a few hours. And he simply didn't want to dwell on those kinds of matters anymore. He was tired of it. He just wanted to proceed with the things he had to, and get it over with. He didn't want to feel grief, he didn't want to mourn, he didn't want the prickle of tears in his eyes, he only wanted to act.

He took a deep intake of breath, and his hands slowly unclenched as he forced himself to gain back a cool composure. His gaze immediately searched Komorov again, but now the wizard was striding back to the school. The Danish Minister of Magic had left, along with the Aurors, it seemed.

The man passed a few feet away from him, taking the steps into the school. Abruptly, Komorov halted, unconsciously rubbing his tingling nape, as he said curtly, looking ahead into vacant space, "I know you're here, Mr. Black. I feel you. I want to see you in my office – in the Headmaster's office, that is."

The wizard strode inside the school without waiting for an answer, and Orion was greatly tempted to yell at him a very rude retort. However, he simply squared his shoulders and made his way into the castle. The corridors were empty, only some footfalls could be heard distantly. It was obvious that classes had been cancelled, and students would be leaving for their summer holidays in two days anyway, so most of them had to be in their common rooms, getting ready to depart.

He reached the Dark Arts classroom, and glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, before he quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Calypso was already there, waiting for him, leaning on the teacher's desk, several newspapers clenched in her hands.

Her gaze snapped up when he closed the door, and she whispered, "Is that you?"

"Yup," said Orion, instantly flicking his wand and cancelling the parsel-invisibility spell.

He wondered briefly whether he should bring down Grindelwald's as well, but then decided he preferred that Calypso didn't know that the wizard was with them. He wanted her to be solely focused on the matters-at-hand. Thus, he merely swished his wand at the door, locking it and casting several silencing and anti-spying spells around the classroom.

"What do you have there?" he asked, reaching her side and pointedly glancing at the newspapers clutched in her hands.

"I wanted to show you what they have been saying about you, since it's obvious that you haven't read a single one," said Calypso, immediately spreading them wide open on top of the desk. "They keep writing about a Death Eater attack on Hogwarts, and-"

"Surely your father told you about that," interjected Orion coolly.

"Yes, he did," she said shortly, pinning him with a gauging gaze, "and about what happened at the Dark Lord's Manor as well." She lowered her voice, and murmured anxiously, "He told me what the Dark Lord did to Draco-"

"He's alive," interrupted Orion promptly, seeing relief sweeping across her face.

"He's with you then?" she breathed out. "And he's well?"

"Not quite," said Orion, sighing as he carded his fingers through his hair. "His injuries were very grave and I ended up writing to Lezander, asking for his blood. I fed it to Draco and now he's in a healing coma, so we'll have to wait and see-"

"What?" she snapped, looking at him with round eyes. "You gave him Lez's blood, are you insane?! It could-"

"It was the best and only solution at the time," interrupted Orion sharply, holding up a hand. "I don't want to hear it. If anyone has a right to complain about it, it's Lezander and Draco. Lezander didn't, and…" He grimaced. "And Draco might when he wakes up, but again, we'll have to wait and see. I don't want to talk about this, since speculating is pointless."

"Fine," said Calypso curtly, leveling him with a hard gaze, "we'll talk about it at some other time, then." She crossed her arms over her chest, and demanded, "What happened last night at Hogwarts? I know what my dad told me, but I want to hear your side of the story."

Orion sighed tiredly, and said tonelessly, "I found out that Trelawney's is an Aux Atrum, Dumbledore took me horcrux-hunting to a cave -I got the alleged horcrux with me, by the way, it's fake of course- then we went back, Draco had repaired the cabinet, so the Death Eaters came through, everything ended up being a mess, I dueled with the old goat, he told me a lot of weird stuff -for which I still have to get answers from Gellert- I shot the Killing Curse at the old man, Fawkes took him away and saved him. Then I went to Riddle Manor and I saw Draco disappear. I used the time-turner, went back in time, retraced my steps, did a little thing here, a little thing there, I saved myself, I made Greyback go to Lycaon, and then I snatched Draco away from Voldemort's clutches. Oh, and the time-turner broke and I found out from Greyback that Voldemort's trying to snatch the werewolves from me by promising to give them potions which will allow them to transform during non-full moon nights. Ah, and I casted a mind possession curse on Hermione Granger."

Calypso blinked at him, quickly taking it all in, before a pensive and calculating frown spread over her face. "I see. Well, the mind possession over the mudblood will come in handy." She pierced him with her eyes, and asked quietly, "Then Dumbledore isn't dead?"

"Nope," said Orion coolly.

She huffed, and bit out, "Then why are you so calm?" She angrily waved at the spread newspapers. "This is a disaster! Un utter mess – read them!"

"I rather not," interjected Orion, shooting an annoyed glance at the wizarding newspapers. "Why don't you tell me instead?"

"Alright," said Calypso shortly, straightening up as she pierced him with a stern gaze. "They're calling you a murderer, a traitor, the Boy-Who-Became-Evil," she snorted, "according to Rita Skeeter and the Daily Prophet. Not that _that_ should concern you, but the other newspapers, the ones from Russia, Germany and other Dark-oriented countries, are printing every wild speculation they can think of! They're afraid, Orion! Afraid since everyone believes that you've killed Dumbledore and that now you're going to become the next Dark Lord, and they don't want you going against Voldemort. They fear that if the Dark is split between you and him, then that we'll be weaker, that you two will fight against each other and probably end up both dead, given what the damned prophecy says. You know how it was interpreted by the media, and they see this as evidence that you'll both kill each other and that the Dark will be rendered leaderless-"

"That's all?" scoffed Orion.

"No, damn it!" snapped Calypso angrily, glaring at him. "You saw the Danish Aurors, right? The Danish Minister of Magic is washing his hands off, he doesn't want to involve Denmark in an international conflict with England and other Light countries, not over you. The Ministry issued a capture warrant against you, Orion. If you're seen, they'll lock you up somewhere and negotiate with the English Aurors, surely to get something in return if they hand you over. Everyone is being very careful about the whole matter, no one is ready to clap you on the back, congratulate you for having supposedly killed Dumbledore, and then take your side. On the contrary, every Dark Ministry seems to be waiting before taking any sides. Waiting to see if you and Voldemort kill each other, or if one of you survives to take the mantle of leadership. Only then, will they cast their luck with either of you, and that's only if they see that who remains has any chances of winning the war in England. And it's quite obvious that all hell is going to break lose there, now that they believe that their adored Dumbledore is dead!"

She crossed her arms over her chest, and continued crisply, "Not to mention, of course, that the English Aurors are hunting down Snape and Draco. And Draco's being hunted down by the Death Eaters, on top of that! My father told me that Voldemort has already ordered them to look for Draco, the moment you left his Manor. And here in Durmstrang, things aren't much better." She scowled, and added angrily, "Remember that idiot, Gustav Orloff? The one who wanted you to be expelled from school when it was made public that you had been Harry Potter? The one who the Carrows named as the liaison between Durmstrang students and Voldemort?"

"Yeah, Orloff. What about him?" said Orion, the frown which had deepened with every single word from her, now darkening.

"He never stopped recruiting anyone here who wants to become a Death Eater," said Calypso shortly. "And just this morning, when everyone got their newspapers by owl, and before Professor Komorov…" Her voice slightly broke, but she instantly cleared her throat, continuing strongly, "Before Headmaster Komorov came into the Hall to announce that they had found Vagnarov dead in his bed, I heard Orloff boasting about how the Dark Lord was now going to take hold of Durmstrang." She shook her head, adding incensed, "It's utter rubbish, for I know that the Aux Atrum would never allow that to happen. But using that threat, Orloff started pressuring others to become Death Eaters, and he's going to continue to do so. And I saw the effect that his words had on the students. They're scared as well, Orion. They don't know who to turn to. And given that you're being persecuted, they'll most assuredly side with Voldemort because they see him as their safest bet, because no one knows if you're going to make it out of this gigantic mess!"

"I see," muttered Orion, fiercely rubbing his forehead.

"Do you?" she said beseechingly, peering up at him. "Other than counting with my support and that of the Elite, you're on your own, Orion. Do you understand that? I wouldn't even count in the rest of the DA. I think they're also withholding their full support until they know if it's best to either side with you or Voldemort." She grasped his arm, and added adamantly, "It's now more than ever that you need to fully join forces with Voldemort! Draco's with you - fine. You have to help him, I know that. I don't want him to die either, but you must make sure that Voldemort doesn't turn on you. Have you gone back to see him-"

"No," interrupted Orion, with a deep sigh.

"Then what are you waiting for?" snapped Calypso with exasperation. "Why did you come here at all? You should be fixing matters with him-"

"I came here to talk to you and Vagnarov," grumbled Orion. "And because I was going to round up the students to reveal Grindelwald to them, and to-"

"That's out of the question!" interrupted Calypso alarmed, her clutch on his arm tightening jerkily. "Don't you see that with Vagnarov dead, the ward he had casted on the school no longer holds? There's no ward now that prevents students from writing about you to whomever they want. No ward that makes it impossible for them to share what they know about you. And if they see you, some could notify that you're in the school and the Danish Aurors will come to get you. Your secrets regarding the Hallows, the Spirits and the Vindico issue are safe, because no student knows of it except Titania and I, but someone in the DA could let slip that you…" She shook her head, muttered glumly, "You showed the DA the memory of you torturing Voldemort, remember? That might reach Voldemort's ears, Orion, and he'll be furious."

Orion groaned, before a troubled and anxious expression flickered across his face. "I could ask Komorov to cast the ward again. Then, I could gather the students and proceed with what I had planned-"

"No, you won't be able to," interrupted Calypso, her shoulders slumping. "Komorov won't cast the ward. He won't help you with that." She gazed at him, and continued softly, her voice remorseful, "The moment I read the newspapers, I pulled my father to a side and asked if he knew what the Spirits were planning to do to help you out. He told me that other than making sure that you aren't apprehended at Durmstrang, the Aux Atrum have orders of not helping you in any way. I think… I think the Spirits see this as a lesson for you, to see if you can manage such circumstances on your own-"

"Lesson?" hissed out Orion enraged, his jaw clenching. "It's no lesson. It's payback because I turned my back on them, refusing to follow their designs for me. Because I chose to be independent and do things the way I see fit!"

"Yes, you might be right," interjected Calypso, "but that doesn't change the fact that Komorov will not cast the ward, and that you can't show yourself here and much less gather up the students. And you can't cast the ward yourself, you have no authority in the school." She shot him a quizzical glance. "What were you planning on telling the students, anyway?"

"About how we had broken out Gellert, that Voldemort hadn't killed him during the destruction of Nurmengard," muttered Orion, sighing as he carded his fingers through his hair, "and how he'd been training me. And he was going to tell them that I was his successor and-"

"Right. Grindelwald was going to herald you as some sort of Dark Lord, wasn't he?" snapped Calypso, scowling. "Well, now is not the time for that! You told me that once you're ready to undertake the VA test, the Spirits themselves are going to show their support for you, revealing their existence, claiming you as the Vindico, and such. That will have the impact you desire, Orion. Now you must focus on fixing matters with Voldemort, to show everyone that you and he are a united front and that what happened last night isn't going to split the Dark in two sides. I'm not telling you that you shouldn't take leadership of the Dark – you must do that eventually. I'm telling you to wait until the time is right."

"I understand," said Orion quietly.

"Good," said Calypso, shooting him a wan smile which he assumed was meant to be uplifting and comforting, though it wasn't. She looked as troubled and worried as he felt. "Where are you staying? How can I contact you?"

Orion frowned pensively, before he spotted the necklace she was wearing – his Christmas gift to her, a silver necklace with a beautiful amethyst stone worked with silver engravings which were magical runes of protection against several curses and spells.

He carefully grasped the pendant in his hand, and aimed his wand at it, as he intently focused. "Portus!"

The violet stone vibrated and glowed with a deep blue, before it settled back to its usual appearance.

"Now it's a portkey into Potter Manor," he explained when she arched her eyebrow. "That's where Draco is, and where I'm staying at present. In two weeks I'll be going to Zraven Citadel, and I'll ask Lezander to allow your owl to reach me there-"

"You're going so soon?" interjected Calypso anxiously. "Do you think it's wise to start your vampire training now? Voldemort won't be happy about that."

"I have to go," said Orion curtly. "You know it's important for me to renew my allegiance with the Zravens, and… and I want to see Lez, Calypso. I've postponed it for too long."

She wrung her hands together, and said quietly, "Do you think he remembers everything?"

"I think he does," replied Orion, slightly frowning. "His reply to my letter was very short, but he must remember much since he didn't ask who Draco was or anything of the sort."

"I've wanted to write to him but every time I sit down, I can't do it," said Calypso abruptly, gazing at him nervously. "There're so many things I would like to talk to him about. And I wasn't exactly supportive of your relationship with him-"

"You always thought Voldemort was the one for me," Orion pointed out.

"I still do," interjected Calypso, piercing him with her eyes. "That he's the best for you, that is. The one, the one…" She waved her hand vaguely. "That's subjective isn't it? And perhaps there isn't a one for anybody." She bit her lower lip, before she added, "And with the whole vampire life mate issue… well, who knows?" She glanced up at him again, and said resolutely, "Perhaps you should be with Lez as well. You know that I've always said that you could form a triad, or something of the sort."

"Yeah," said Orion, sniggering, "you've got quite liberal views."

"On some matters, yes," she said, slightly smirking at him, before her gaze landed on his forehead. "I noticed the scar, you know. Good idea. Voldemort will like it."

Orion snorted, and groused out, "I didn't cancel the blood glamour because of him."

"Well, it works to your benefit, nonetheless," said Calypso, her smirk widening. "It will help to make him feel possessive of you, and that's something you should use."

"I'm not his spouse anymore," said Orion curtly, "not in practice."

Calypso leveled him with a hard gaze, and bit out, "Don't be an idiot. If you want to keep Voldemort as your ally, then use all the tools at your disposal. Merlin knows that he'll have plenty of reasons to be furious at you, and to kill you, even. Morality be damned, Orion, you can't afford it at present. Remember that you want him with you and not against you."

"We'll see," said Orion dismissively. He intently pierced her with his eyes, and added quietly, "I must leave soon, but not without first asking two things from you. I need your help with Draco. I'm going to be away for some while and he can't be left alone. That's also why I made you a portkey to Potter Manor. I know you usually spend your summer holidays here, but could you stay at the Manor with him? When he wakes up, I want someone to be there for him, and the Manor's safe. Moreover, if he's well, then I want you to train him."

"Train him?" asked Calypso, her eyes widening. "You mean in the Dark Arts?"

Orion nodded at her. "Precisely. And it would be great if your father helped you with that as well, as long as he doesn't tell Voldemort about it, of course. You and your dad will have three months to work on Draco."

"You're planning on making Draco one of us, part of the Elite?" said Calypso, pensively frowning. "Are you going to tell him about the Vindico issue and-"

"Yes," interrupted Orion swiftly, "I'll tell him about everything."

Calypso gazed up at him, and said eagerly, "Alright. I'll do it. I think it's a good idea, and I'm sure my father will agree to do it as well. What's the other thing?"

"Remember that I asked you to research into magical brands-?"

"Oh, yes!" she rushed out, nodding at him while she plunged a hand into her robes' pocket. "You were right. I found that only by marking someone with a magical brand of equal or superior power to the one the bearer already has, can the old brand disappear in lieu of the newer. And ever since I finished it, I've been carrying my notes with me…" She plucked out a rolled stack of parchments, and handed it over to him with a smug smile on her face. "See it for yourself. It can be tweaked, but I think it's quite good. I designed it to have all the properties of the Dark Mark but also some of the VA mark that the Aux Atrum have. For instance, it will be only seen by those who are already branded with it, like the VA mark, which I think is a very important characteristic, so that your followers can't be discovered just because they have a mark somewhere on their bodies..."

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline as he unrolled what were five pages of parchment filled with runic and arithmetic equations; a step by step account of the creation of a magical brand.

"…and you only have to speak the name of the person branded, with intent, and the mark will act like a portkey and bring that person to you…"

"You fully created a new magical branding spell?" he said in astonishment, cutting through her ramblings.

"Yes," said Calypso, shooting him a wide smirk. "And look at the last page. That's what it will look like. You can change any of it, of course, but I think you'll be quite satisfied with my work."

Orion eagerly skipped to the fifth page, and his eyes widened and the blood coursing through his veins seemed to quicken when he gazed at the fine drawing. It was simple, elegant, not garish or menacingly ugly. It was the VA mark, with two differences; the lines were silver-colored and the shape of an eye formed by the design was completely filled with black ink.

"A Necromancer's eye," he breathed out, feeling his heart suddenly thumping faster in his chest.

She had no way of knowing, but in that respect, it looked exactly how the VA mark inscribed on the wall which gave way to the Durmstrang's catacombs looked like when he gave his blood during the spell to open the entrance, when his blood filled the engraving and condensed around the middle, making it look as if an all-black eye was glowing in the midst of the mark. And something about the whole matter, about the coincidence of her designing it to be that way, felt auspicious yet also foreboding.

"That's right," said Calypso coolly, closely observing his reaction. "I think it suits you given that you're a Necromancer. Do you like it?"

"Like it?" said Orion, snapping his head up, beaming a wide smile. "I love it, Scaly. It's perfect!"

A satisfied smile broke on her face, as she said pointedly, "I'm glad because it took me several weeks to create and if you didn't like it, then it would be your task to change some equations-"

"I'm not changing anything," interjected Orion warmly. "It's perfect as it is. Couldn't have done better myself." Then he ruffled through the pages, his gaze scanning through the long and complex formulas. "And if I brand Draco or my dad with this, then the Dark Mark will disappear from their arms, and it will no longer be linked to their magical cores?"

"Exactly," replied Calypso contently. "Your brand would be replacing Voldemort's, but it doesn't need to be in the same place. Its location is up to you."

"Fantastic," said Orion cheerfully, feeling relief sweeping through him as he safely pocketed the parchments for later perusal. "I owe you big time."

Calypso smugly smirked at him. "You do."

Shooting her a grin, Orion stepped forward to tightly hug her as she very well deserved, but his outstretched arms dropped and his expression darkened when she swiftly took a step back away from him.

"This, again?" he bit out, anger quickly swelling in him. "It's been ages since you've allowed me to hug you, Calypso! Why?" He jerkily carded his fingers through his hair. "Is my touch so disgusting to you-"

"No!" she said adamantly, a pleading expression on her face. "Never think that, it's not that at all. But I…"

She shook her head, biting her lower lip, remaining silent.

"You what?" spat Orion with exasperation. "What is it? I think I've been patient but even I have my limits, Calypso! You don't tell me anything. You won't even hint about what has been going on with you. Why you suddenly stopped attending DA sessions, why you focused single-mindedly on your studies and started to ignore your friends and me!"

Calypso sighed wearily, and mumbled, "I've been busy. I've got a lot on my mind-"

"Then tell me!" said Orion sharply. "I cannot help you if you don't-"

"I don't want your help!" snapped Calypso, lifting her chin up, glaring at him. "I have some things I need to do, some things I need to figure out. I will tell you, when I'm ready."

"Fine. Whatever," groused out Orion, spinning around and swiftly making his way to the door.

A hand clutched his arm, halting him, as her voice said softly, "Please, understand. Don't leave being angry at me."

Orion turned around to face her, and seeing the watery tearfulness in her eyes, he sighed and said quietly, "I'm not really angry. I'm simply worried about you."

"I know," she said, wanly smiling at him, "and I appreciate it. I _will_ tell you, just give me some more time."

"Alright," muttered Orion, letting it go since he didn't want to argue with her any longer. He rubbed his forehead, sighing, before he side-glanced at her, and said quietly, "I'm doing it today. I'm killing Grindelwald."

Calypso sucked in a breath, staring at him with wide eyes, and she said tremulously, "Are you… do you feel ready for that?"

"Ready?" said Orion, letting out a harsh, humorless chuckle. "There's no way to prepare oneself to kill someone you care about, is there?"

"No, there isn't," she murmured softly, gazing at with concerned anxiousness. "When it happens, you'll be absorbing his dark magic, won't you?" She tightly grasped his arm, and added worriedly, "I'll come with you. I want to be there, by your side-"

"No," interrupted Orion, shooting her a warm and grateful smile. "I appreciate it but it's not necessary and I… I want to be alone with him. I want it to be only the two of us."

"I understand," said Calypso, squeezing his arm and momentarily looking uncertain. She bore her gaze into his, and whispered, "I love you, you know? You're a brother to me."

Orion grinned, his eyes lighting up, and he tenderly kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Calypso."

A dazzling smile beamed on her face, and he tucked a lock of ebony hair behind her ear before he took a step back. "We'll be in touch. I'll write to you."

Calypso nodded, and watched him leave the room, anxiously wringing her hands together, feeling a deep sense of apprehension and troubled concern. When the door shut behind him, she glanced at the newspapers spread on the desk, scowling, before she squared her shoulders, a hard and determined expression spreading on her face. She would help him in the ways she could, first and foremost by having a 'chat' with the DA. She wouldn't allow Orion to lose supporters after what had happened. The DA members were going to get a piece of her mind and they'd better get their loyalties straight and jump into place, or else! No matter what it took, she was going to make sure that Durmstrang followed Orion's lead and stood by his side.

* * *

"Do you agree with her assessment of the situation, Gellert?" whispered Orion, once again under the parsel-invisibility spell, as he made his way towards the Headmaster's office through mostly deserted corridors.

"Ja, mein junge," said a quiet voice by his side. "You have a sharp one there. Don't lose her."

"Of course I won't," murmured Orion, "if there's one thing I know it's that she would never abandon me." He sighed, and carded his fingers through his hair. "So no gathering of the students, then?"

"Nein," whispered Grindelwald's voice, "but there are other ways in which you can let them know about your power and about how I've been training you."

Orion hummed pensively, his mind fast at work. "Yeah, you're right."

He halted before a door, and straightened his shoulders, taking his wand out. "Ready, Gellert?"

"Ready, mein junge," replied Grindelwald's voice calmly, and Orion could hear the smirk in the wizard's tone.

With a flick of his wand, he made the door silently open and he slid inside, giving enough time for Grindelwald to enter before he closed it behind them.

The instant they entered what had previously been Vagnarvo's office, Komorov halted in mid spell-casting, snapping his head up to glance at some point between Grindelwald's and Orion's invisible presences. The newly appointed Headmaster had obviously been packing what was left of Vagnarov's possessions, since some books finished flying from shelves to settle inside the large trunks scattered around the room.

"Mr. Black, reveal yourself," said Komorov curtly, as he flicked his wand, making one of the trunks close shut, before he calmly sat down behind the grand desk.

Orion felt Grindelwald grasping his arm, and understanding what the wizard wanted, he swished his wand in the man's direction, before he cancelled his own invisibility as well.

Komorov's dark blue eyes immediately flickered between them, assessing, before he said solemnly, "Lord Grindelwald, please take a seat. You too, Mr. Black."

Orion obeyed, for now, and demanded without preambles, "Are you going to recast the ward that Vagnarov-"

"No," interrupted Komorov, piercing him with his eyes. "Vulcan was too soft with you, Black. Things are going to change around here. You have been given too much leeway, but not anymore. You will not do as you please in Durmstrang, and you'll have to solve your current predicaments by yourself - this is for your own good." He glanced at Grindelwald, and asked politely, "Don't you agree, Lord Grindelwald?"

Grindelwald chuckled, shooting a crooked smirk at the young man. "Oh, pretend I'm not here, Herr Komorov. This is Orion's show. I'm a mere spectator."

"I see," said Komorov curtly, his jaw momentarily clenching. He focused his attention back on Orion, and said sternly, "As you very well know, the Aux Atrum will only serve and help you if and when you become the Vindico. I am their leader and I gave them strict orders in this regard. And unlike Vulcan, I'm not going to make things easier for you. You need to learn-"

"Make things easier for me?" bit out Orion, crossing his arms over his chest. "When have the Aux made anything easier-"

"You dare ask me that?" hissed Komorov, his dark blue eyes narrowing at him, incensed. "I know that Vulcan did something for you which drained him from his magic. He wouldn't tell me what, but the last of his health rapidly declined for no apparent reason and it led him to an earlier grave!"

Grindelwald quizzically glanced at Orion, but he barely registered it. His face had paled, since he knew what Komorov was talking about. He had seen how Vagnarov had coughed spurts of blood after the old wizard had formed the block in his mind which would keep out the memories of his past lives.

"Vulcan was an esteemed friend and a valuable Aux Atrum," continued Komorov angrily, "and he paid the price of the consequences of helping you when he shouldn't have-"

"Don't try to make me feel guilty for his death!" snapped Orion heatedly, glaring at him. "Vagnarov did what he did willingly. He was the only one I could turn to for that, and he must have known how it would affect him, but he did it nonetheless! I will not scorn his sacrifice by–"

"By what?" snarled Komorov. "By admitting that he would still be alive right now if it wasn't for you!?"

"You fucking jerk!" spat Orion furiously, his hands clenching into fists. "You think that you're the only one who will miss him? You think that it doesn't pain me? He was my Necromancy mentor and my friend too. He was the only adult in this bloody school who ever did anything to help me! He wasn't a Karkaroff who took off the moment Voldemort popped back and gave me no explanations when telling me to search for the bloody Hallows. And he sure as hell wasn't like you, who mindlessly follows anything the Spirits tell you, like a spineless little puppy, without making any decisions of your own!"

Komorov's dark blue eyes narrowed to slits, and he hissed out enraged, "You have some nerve-"

"Gentlemen, please," interjected Grindelwald calmly, holding up a hand. "This argument is counterproductive and pointless-"

"No, let's hear what _Roman_ has to say," said Orion acidly, glowering at the young Headmaster. "I've had it with you. When you were simply my Curse Breaking and Warding professor you liked me, you were friendly and you helped me out, remember? Ever since you became the leader of the Aux Atrum you've turned into an arsehole."

Komorov took in a deep breath, and shook his head, visibly restraining his temper and calming down. He gazed at them, and said curtly, "I apologize for my outburst. Lord Grindelwald is right, this isn't leading anywhere and there is much we need to discuss-"

"I want to know why your attitude towards me changed so drastically," snapped Orion, his voice hard and unrelenting, as he pierced the wizard with his eyes. "I want to know why you hate me so much."

"I don't hate you, Black," said Komorov sharply, shooting him a hard, impatient glance.

"Then what is it?" bit out Orion, glaring at him.

"Mein junge," interjected Grindelwald, resting a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure Herr Komorov merely felt the pressure that comes with the burdens and responsibilities of leadership, and he adapted to his position as he thought was best."

"Fine," said Orion crisply, his gaze still fixed on the young Headmaster. "But you and I, Roman, will have to learn how to work together in the future. You're the leader of the Aux and I have every intention of becoming the Vindico, so we'll need to settle our differences."

"We'll have no problems if you don't question my way of leading the Aux," said Komorov curtly, intently gazing back at him. "I follow the Spirits' plans not because I lack a backbone when dealing with them, but because I believe in what they are doing. I believe that their methods yield the desired results, and thus, they count with my support. Like them, and unlike Vulcan, I believe that you'll grow into a better Vindico if you're not coddled and if you deal with difficulties on your own."

"Alright," said Orion coolly. "Is this why you wanted to see me, to tell me these things?"

"Yes," replied the wizard, leveling him with a strict gaze. "And to lay down the rules you'll have to follow during your next school year, and explain to you the glamour you'll need to use-"

Orion snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not coming back, Roman."

"I beg your pardon?" said Komorov sharply, narrowing his dark blue eyes at him. "You must complete your education and I'm already working on how to deal with the Danish Aurors-"

"Nein," interjected Grindelwald, crookedly smirking at the younger wizard. "The only thing the boy needs is to take his PRIMEs as soon as possible. He doesn't need to attend his seventh year, he could be ready for his PRIMEs in a month." He shot Orion a glance, arching an eyebrow. "Right, mein junge? You could study for them during your stay with your… allies."

Orion glanced back at him musingly. "Yes, I can do that."

"What allies?" demanded Komorov, pinning him with a stern gaze. "Where are you going?"

"To the Zravens, of course," replied Orion calmly. He arched an eyebrow, and said blandly, "So, can you find a way in which I can be tested for my PRIMEs without being apprehended the moment the examiners see me?"

A pensive, calculating frown spread on Komorov's forehead, as he curtly nodded. "I'll see what can be done."

Orion smirked, and said wryly, "You'll see which minds the Aux will need to nudge, you mean."

Komorov shot him an unamused glance, and demanded, "If you're not attending your last school year, then what will you be doing?"

"I'll be training," replied Orion shortly, "and I'll be working alongside Voldemort to make sure that we win the open war that will surely erupt in England very soon."

"You'll be working with the Dark Lord?" said Komorov sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "Do you forget, Black, that he's the one you need to destroy-"

"Look, Roman," interrupted Orion gruffly, "I don't tell you how to lead the Aux and you don't tell me how to lead my life or how to acquire the power necessary to undergo the VA test. Got it?" He leaned forward, and pinned him with his gaze. "Now, there's something I need to ask of you-" He held up a hand the moment he saw the wizard about to retort something, and continued bitingly, "I'm not asking you to help me, don't worry about that. I'm asking you to help Draco Malfoy. I'm sure Rosier has already informed you about what happened last night, so you know that Draco is in a tight spot. He's with me, at present, recovering. But I won't be able to spend much time with him and I want him safe and accompanied. That's why I want you to accept Draco at Durmstrang. Make him use that glamour you mentioned, or whatever is needed so that he has no troubles with the Danish Aurors, but let him attend his last school year here."

Komorov frowned at him, and said sternly, "The Dark Lord is looking for the boy. I cannot jeopardize the lives of other students just to-"

"You can't refuse, Roman," snapped Orion, piercing him with a hard gaze. "He's very valuable to the Spirits, given his bloodlines, isn't he? I'm sure they want him to be safe. And there's a precedent. After Voldemort's first rise, Karkaroff opened the gates of Durmstrang to dark wizarding families fleeing from England. That how's Calypso and her dad came to be here, after all. This school was a sanctuary for them, and it has to be again for others during this new war." He grimly shook his head, and muttered, "Think about it, Roman. It will not only be Draco. The other Slytherins might need to leave Hogwarts at some point."

The young Headmaster remained silent, still frowning, and Orion said quietly, "Will you at least consider it?"

"Yes," said Komorov at last, intently gazing at him. "I will think about it, Black."

"Good," breathed out Orion, relief sweeping over him. He glanced at the man, and said coolly, "I hope that you won't block this office's floo connection from me."

"I won't," said Komorov curtly. "The Spirits want you to have access to them. You'll still be able to floo in here, but remember that you can no longer openly show yourself around the school. Not for now, at least. After I deal with the Danish Minister and the Board of Governors, we'll see."

"I understand," said Orion, with a stiff nod.

"It's time to leave, mein junge," said Grindelwald, rising to his feet. He shot Komorov a crooked smirk, and added placidly, "Our dear boy, here, is killing me today."

Komorov's dark blue eyes pierced Orion, before his gaze flickered back to the old German wizard. "I see. The Spirits will be glad to hear it."

"Ja, indeed they will," said Grindelwald, chuckling with amusement. He toothily grinned at the wizard. "Herr Komorov, do convey to them my nastiest farewell."

The young Headmaster stared at the older wizard, seemingly not knowing quite what to reply, and wisely simply gauging the former Dark Lord in silence.

Grindelwald's grin spread. "You were well chosen, Herr Komorov. You'll be a worthy leader of the Aux for our Vindico."

He swiftly turned to Orion, who was now standing beside him, and he flicked his wand at the two of them. Immediately, Orion was robbed with a black cloak, its hood over his head, casting his face in shadows, and he saw that Grindelwald had conjured the same on himself.

"Where to, Gellert?" murmured Orion, approaching the fireplace.

"To wizarding Zurich, mein junge," replied Grindelwald cheerfully, as he grasped a handful of floo powder from the mantelpiece and stepped inside the hearth. "I'll apparate us from there."

Orion climbed by his side, and his gaze landed on Komorov, who was still seated behind his desk, silently observing them. He pierced the young Headmaster with his eyes, and said quietly, feeling it was necessary, "Vulcan was dying, as you very well knew, Roman. None of us could have done anything to stop it. His death grieves me, but I'm grateful to him and I respect the choices he made. And so should you."

Komorov met his gaze, yet he remained quiet, and before he could even blink, Grindelwald was already flinging the floo powder, saying joyfully, "Die Tanzenfee, Zürich!"

* * *

"Die Rheinfall, splendid if it weren't for the disgusting muggles! Ja?" said Grindelwald over the rushing sounds, the moment their feet touched ground. He took a deep lungful of air, and sighed contently. "It's _gut_ to be back… so close to motherland..."

Orion quizzically gazed at the older wizard before his attention was inevitably captured by his surroundings. They were standing on a rocky boulder right besides the waterfall, which wasn't impressive in its height but in its breadth. A green valley spread before them, with the Rhine river coursing along forested banks with scattered country houses of wealthy muggles, restaurants for tourists and a circus of souvenir stalls. Some distance away, he could see hordes of muggles crowding by spots in both banks, in search of the best camera angle. There was an arched footbridge crossing from one bank to the other, and various observation decks packed with more muggles. A boat carrying adventurous tourists was scurrying around in the spray of the waterfalls, not too far away from them. There was a turreted castle on a cliff directly above the falls, which completed the scene, and he could see a suburban muggle town in the distance.

The summer breeze was pleasurably chilly, and the roar of rushing cascades of water lulled him into a cradling peacefulness, but it was continuously broken by the boisterous yells of tourists. Grindelwald was right, it would have been lovely if it wasn't plagued by hordes of camera-flashing muggles; if it could be admired in peaceful silence and enjoyed.

"Come, mein junge, before some muggle spots us and wonders why we're dressed so strangely," said Grindelwald with a crooked smirk, as he led the way into a nearby patch of forest.

Orion watched how the wizard used the Phoenix wand to cast muggle-repelling charms around the area, before the wizard conjured a tent. It looked like the kind of tent that wealthy muggles liked to have on their gardens by the pool-side, a simple ensemble of white fabric perched on four wooden posts, and when the breeze flapped its opening to one side, he saw two plush couches inside.

Once he made sure that the sword at his back still remained invisible, he made a move to get inside the tent, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"My conversation with Albus will be private, mein junge," said Grindelwald sternly, flicking his wand at the tent.

Orion gazed up at him, scowling. "That wasn't-"

He clamped his mouth shut and tensed when Grindelwald snapped his head up. He had felt it as well, and he slowly turned around to encounter Dumbledore a few paces away from them. The old wizard was inspecting his surroundings with curiosity, obviously having just apparated there. Dumbledore looked the same as always; brimming with good health and his manner that of supreme calmness, with one sole difference – the old wizard's right hand was blackened and withered, and Orion felt immense satisfaction knowing that the Necromantic curse he had shot at the old man had done such irreparable damage.

Abruptly, when Dumbledore's gaze landed on them, a strange kind of tension vibrated in the air. But Orion noticed that the old wizard wasn't looking at him at all, the old man was fixedly staring at Grindelwald. He now felt as if he was watching a match, with him being at the sidelines and the older wizards being the wrestling forces. Grindelwald's hazel, hawk-like gaze was closely inspecting every feature of Dumbledore's face and body, with focused intensity, as if drinking in every detail, something in his expression looking hungry and yearning. Dumbledore, in return, looked as if he was being confronted by a ghost of the past. There was a hint of wariness and pain in the old man's blue eyes, and his expression slightly slack.

"You haven't aged a day since I last saw you," murmured Dumbledore, fixedly staring at the German wizard.

Grindelwald shot him a toothy grin, and said silkily, "Why, thank you, Albus. I find you as handsome as ever too."

Dumbledore seemed to snap out of it, and his expression instantly turned solemnly closed off and calm.

"A lovely meeting place, Gellert," said the old wizard placidly, as if he had come over for tea, biscuits and a nice day in the country.

"You should have seen it before, when it wasn't overrun by filthy muggles," said Grindewald, crookedly smirking. "And didn't I tell you, long ago, that I wanted to show you my favorite places in the world? Alas, you never gave me the opportunity, Albus."

"You never deserved it, Gellert," said Dumbledore calmly, gazing at wizard over the top of his half-moon glasses.

Grindelwald looked irked for a moment, before a dazzling, charming smile spread on his face, taking a step forward to be inches away from the other wizard. "There's still time to fix that. A mere word from you, Albus, and I can take you away from all of this. Let's leave it all behind us, start again, just the two of us. Let the newer generations worry about the fate of the wizarding world, and let's spend what is left of our life in peaceful isolation. What do you say?"

Orion instantly tensed, surreptitiously drawing out his wand and tightly clutching it, as he closely regarded both wizards. He wasn't quite sure what Grindelwald was attempting to do. Was the wizard's offer sincere? If so, he wouldn't let it happen. Yet, it was possible that it was a mere trick, a scheme to confuse Dumbledore, so that the old wizard wouldn't suspect that he would be killing Grindelwald right after that meeting. He wasn't certain, and the shift between barded bantering and soft persuasions had been too abrupt and unexpected.

"I'm afraid it's too late for reconciliations, Gellert," said Dumbledore quietly, a hint of sadness flickering in the wizard's eyes, but it was gone so quickly that Orion would have missed it if he hadn't been observing the old man's reaction so closely.

"We'll see about that," interjected Grindelwald, widely smirking. He gestured at the tent, and said gallantly, "Shall we continue our conversation in a more comfortable setting?"

Dumbledore glanced at the tent and flicked out his wand, parting the flaps open, as he took a step forward. "Yes, I admit I'm curious to know why you wanted to see me, Gellert. I am willing to listen-"

The old wizard broke off, and Orion found himself being pierced by Dumbledore's blue eyes, who seemed to have finally become aware of his presence. However, he wasn't looking at Dumbledore, but at the wand the old wizard was still grasping in his left hand.

He saw the Elder wand being swiftly pocketed, and Dumbledore said warmly, "I'm glad to see you're well, my dear boy." He gazed at him over the brim of his half-moon glasses, and added quietly, "It's not too late for you, child. I hope that after this you'll accept to have a talk between us. Gellert hasn't been able to answer your questions, has he? I can explain-"

"This wasn't part of the deal, Albus," interrupted Grindelwald sternly, taking a step between them. "It's you and I who are going to sit down for a chat, not you and the boy."

"Afraid of what he might discover?" said Dumbledore, smiling at the German wizard.

"Nein," replied Grindelwald, narrowing his eyes at the man. "I never lied to him and I doubt that what you have to say will change his views."

Dumbledore's smile broadened. "I think the boy should decide-"

"The _boy_," interrupted Orion through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching, "has no interest in hearing you out." He shot a hard glance at Grindelwald, before gazing back at Dumbledore. "Gellert will answer any question I have. I trust him far more than I will ever trust you."

Grindelwald smirked at Dumbledore, and immediately steered him into the tent before the wizard had a chance to say anything else. When the tent's flaps closed behind them, Orion was left alone in the middle of the small forest clearing, seething and troubled. Seething because the Elder Wand was in his reach but he could do nothing for now, since he had signed the damned magical contract. And troubled because he didn't know what Grindelwald was up to. One thing was certain; he wouldn't kill the German wizard until he had his answers. But he wouldn't play into Dumbledore's hands either. Grindelwald would be the one to answer his questions, nobody else.

Nevertheless, he was itching to know what those two were saying to one another at present. So he didn't think about it twice and he went around the tent, trying to eavesdrop. He frowned when no muted voices reached his ears, and he swiftly flicked his wand to cancel the anti-spying and silencing charms that he felt tingling around the tent.

He swished his wand, and abruptly, before he could mutter the spell, some kind of force slammed into him and he was volleyed back into the air. He painfully crashed on the ground, several feet away from the tent, and let out a groan. With his head dizzy, he slowly got to his feet, cursing Grindelwald under his breath. The old wizard knew him too well. It was obvious that he wouldn't be able to listen in on them unless he used a powerful spell to break down the charms, and that would defeat the purpose since it would alert the wizards inside that he was spying on them.

In the end, Orion could do nothing but sulkily scowl and sit down on a flat boulder, waiting for the old wizards to finish their 'reunion'. The minutes stretched by, with no sounds coming from the tent –those two could be throttling each other and he would be none the wiser, or worse, making out . Orion grimaced and carded his fingers through his hair. He sincerely hoped it wasn't the latter. And anyway, he couldn't see it happening. It was certain that Grindelwald wanted to discuss some personal stuff between them, but Dumbledore hadn't seemed ready to forgive or forget anything. Furthermore, the German wizard had to be spinning some lies to make sure that Dumbledore would never even suspect that he was going to kill Grindelwald. And he trusted his mentor, so he wouldn't dwell on the matter further. It was Grindelwald's right to have a last conversation with Dumbledore before dying, after all; to set his affairs, as the German wizard had said.

Therefore, he turned his mind to more productive musings. Namely, what he would say to Voldemort, since Calypso was right. He had to fix matters with Voldemort. The Dark had to be united to win the war in England. And given that Voldemort was demanding explanations, he would need to disclose some truths. He would see the wizard today, after killing Grindelwald, before anything reached Voldemort's ears from other sources. Now, he had to decide how much to tell and what to conceal under half-truths or lies.

Orion frowned, and schemed in silence, his mind going through all the possible scenarios. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't realized that an hour had already crept by, when the flaps of the tent parted open.

He jumped to his feet and saw Dumbledore coming out from the tent, closely followed by Grindelwald. He intently observed their expressions to have an inkling of what had been going on inside the tent, but he couldn't garner anything. Dumbledore's face wore its usual calm and collected mask, and Grindelwald's expression was completely closed off, only bearing a crooked smirk.

"I hope this isn't the last of our encounters, Albus," said Grindelwald, openly leering at the other wizard, his hazel haze travelling along Dumbledore's body, blatantly appreciative.

Orion grimaced but kept his silence, and Dumbledore merely spared Grindelwald a glance, before he turned to Orion and gazed at him over his half-moon spectacles.

"If you want to talk, my dear boy," said Dumbledore quietly, "I'll make sure you can reach me by owl."

Orion pierced the old wizard with his eyes but said nothing, as Grindelwald reached his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Then he saw that look of concentration spreading over Dumbledore's aged features; that expression before a wizard apparated. And something in him seethed and hardened. He couldn't do it. He couldn't miss the chance. The Elder Wand was so close by, and the magical contract he had signed was about to expire the moment Dumbledore left.

And without a second thought, he ripped away from Grindelwald's grasp and he flung himself at Dumbledore, tightly clutching the old man's left arm.

Dumbledore gasped, and the last thing Orion saw was the old man's startled expression as they were pitched into a whirlpool of tightening space and rushing colors, and the last thing he heard were Grindelwald's crowing chortles.

* * *

The moment his feet landed on parqueted floors, feeling a bit disoriented, Orion caught sight of a bunch of unknown wizards and witches staring at him, most of them much older than him and a few looking in their mid twenties or thirties. Dumbledore had taken a step back away, still looking startled but now also alarmed. And before Orion could even blink, the other wizards and witches, gathered in what looked like a vast home office of some wealthy muggle, erupted into exclamations in so many different languages he couldn't understand any of it, except his own name being cried in fury and outrage.

"No, don't attack!" he heard Dumbledore yelling authoritatively.

But it was too late, Orion found himself assaulted by a volley of spells, and none of the people there seemed to be willing to halt their actions. He instantly whipped out his wand, and swiftly yelled every spell and curse he could think of, swerving and twisting as he blocked spell after spell, shooting whatever dark curse he could in between. He saw some of the wizards struck by his curses, some toppling to the floor, others crashing against the wall, but the assault seemed to intensify, becoming chaotic and relentless.

He was forced back, though every time he could his gaze searched for Dumbledore, for that was his target. In a brief second, he saw how the old man was protectively surrounded by several witches and wizards, at the other end of the room. Furthermore, he now recognized some of their clothes; a few were wearing the light blue robes of French Aurors, and some others that of Italian or Spanish.

Orion retaliated as much as he could, blasting wizards away, shooting at them the most vicious and incapacitating of dark curses, but there were simply too many of them. And Dumbledore was being protected too zealously, and quite clearly ignored in his continued orders to stop the attack. Moreover, he didn't have the faintest idea of where he was, though it was obvious that the place must be Dumbledore's headquarters, and clearly not of the Order, but of the man's international allies.

He was heavily panting, his muscles aching, his forehead drenched in sweat, but he had managed to block every spell and he didn't have a single injury on him. His heart was pounding fast, adrenaline pumped through his veins, his mind rushed with the thought of the curse he was casting in the next second, yet it was clear to him that he wouldn't defeat them and make it out alive or unrestrained unless he used his wild, dark magic. He didn't like the idea of showing them what he could do, he preferred that it came as a surprise at some battlefield, but he was running out of options.

Orion was about to spread out his left hand to pour out his dark magic, when Dumbledore's voice rose above all others, sounding alarmed, and – fearful?

"DON'T, ARI-"

Suddenly, all sounds and voices around him muted and all the beams of light that had been careening towards him seemed to slow down, being absorbed by a wall of vibrating magic which had abruptly sprung up a few paces away from him, separating him from the rest.

Orion stood rock still and his eyes widened when he saw one wizard cross the wall of magic, ever so calmly, while the rest seemed to be trying to bring it down - unsuccessfully. He couldn't hear the voices of the rest of the wizards and witches, but he saw how their spells crashed against the mantle of magic, over and over again, without passing through.

His eyes finally snapped up to gaze at the wizard who was now standing before him, observing him with a small smile on his face, and he couldn't stiffle back his gasp. The wizard looked young, in his mid twenties, clothed in elegant and rich dark blue robes, with a handsome face of chiseled and manly features, much like the Greek or Roman muggle statues he had seen in textbooks, perfection in the straight lines of the nose and the strong jaw, curly locks of bronze hair, warm cerulean blues eyes, a kind of innocent benevolence and goodness in his features, and an angelic smile which tugged the wizard's lips. Yet, it was belied by a quirked twist in the lips and by the dangerousness which lurked in the young man's blue eyes.

He had never met the wizard, but he recognized the strange, disturbing smile from his visions – and it had been from one he had that very same morning, that in itself was unusual. The things he saw in his visions never happened so fast, with so little forewarning. Furthermore, he felt an astoundingly powerful aura of light magic coming off from the wizard, pressing all over him, feeling almost suffocating. He had never felt such light magic from anyone, not even Dumbledore. And there was something very perturbing about it, since the magic not only felt overwhelming but also wild, stormy, and barely controlled. It made every single hair of his body stand up, his skin prickle with goosebumps, and his own inner magical core react as if being confronted by an opposing, threatening force.

"Orion Black, at last," breathed out the young wizard, his smile widening, his cerulean blue eyes hungrily inspecting him, his tone of voice excited and carrying a strange mixture of several accents. "I've waited so long to meet you, Orion." He let out a low, rumbling chuckle, "And here you are – dropping on my lap!"

Orion quickly gathered back his wits, squaring his shoulders, grasping his wand tightly, on guard, and he asked shortly, though he already had an inkling, "Who are you?"

"Why, I would have thought that you had figured it out," said the wizard, taking a step forward which made Orion instinctively back away, finding himself pressed against the wall behind him. The young man's smile widened, and he bore his cerulean blue eyes into Orion's, as he said exultantly, "I am Arian Hyperion Valenor, lately officially adopted to rightfully become a Dumbledore. Do you know what my names mean? Arian, holy one, that of a golden life, though my life has been anything but golden. And Hyperion, my middle name, in muggle Greek mythology, the name of a Titan who presided over the Sun and Light! Oui, that's me!"

Suddenly, the wizard grasped Orion's chin, a finger slowly caressing his cheek, as the young man's angelic smile turned amused, warm, yet dangerous. "And you are Orion Black, the one who'll become the Vindico Atrum. My predestined nemesis, n'est ce pas?" He chuckled under his breath. "I like to call myself the Vindico Lumen, it's only fair." He cocked his head to a side, grinning. "Arian and Orion… it sounds as if it had been fated, hmm? And it has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," said Orion sharply, tensely gripping his wand by his side as he narrowed his eyes at the wizard. "You were named Arian after your grandmother, and Hyperion after your father, right? And Dumbledore is your granduncle, and he legally adopted you, correct? And you obviously know as much as he does, but I don't know what you're talking about. Vindico Lumen? Nemesis? What's this rubbish?"

"I would like nothing more than to sit down for a chat," said the wizard, his lips quirking upwards. "Indeed, I would like to share confidences, though I already know much about you." He pierced him with his eyes, and widely smiled, before he leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "You have been Sextus Peverell, Regulus Black, and so many others… I know you remember, but tell me, don't you remember me?"

Orion snapped his head back, shocked, his eyes wide. "That's impossible - How do you-" He shook his head, cleared his throat, and leveled him with a seething glare as he hissed out, "How the fuck do you know? And why the bloody hell should I remember you? I've never met you in my life!"

"Oh, relax, Orion," said the wizard with a placid smile, his voice then turning cutting, and sharply sarcastic, "My _dear_ granduncle doesn't know. I would never tell him either. It's between us, hmm?" He swiftly captured Orion's chin again, and added softly, "But I'm hurt that you don't remember me. Not from this life, Orion, but from the past." His cerulean blues eyes pierced searching into Orion's, and he let go off his face with a tsk of disappointment. "You don't. Oh, well, there'll be time for that."

"For what?" bit out Orion, getting more jittery and nervous by the second, though he completely concealed how the wizard made him feel.

"To get as well acquainted as we have been in our past lives, of course," said Arian smoothly, shooting him a dazzling, warm, angelic smile. "But you should leave now. There're more wizards coming here, and as much as I would enjoy watching you fending them off, you'll be vastly outnumbered, and thus, outmatched. Kill the old man and get the Elder Wand at some other opportunity. You won't succeed this time."

Orion stared at him with round eyes, before he narrowed them, and bit out, "What are you playing at? You're a light wizard and Dumbledore is your granduncle-"

"I couldn't care less if he died, painfully if possible," interjected Arian sharply. A large smile curved his lips, and he added in a silky whisper, "I'm not like any other light wizard you have ever met. I don't play by anyone's rules, Orion. And I want you to become the Vindico Atrum. I've waited for it for far too long. You'll be no challenge for me unless you become it."

"Challenge?" said Orion angrily. "What do you-"

"I mean that for now, I'll help you," interrupted Arian coolly. He shot him a warm smile, and trailed a finger down Orion's cheek. "After you become the VA, I'll play with you for a while, and when I get bored, I'll defeat you - as simple as that. Until then, you have nothing to fear from me."

"Aren't you full of yourself," snapped Orion, seething as he aggressively swatted the man's caressing finger away from his face. "I have nothing to fear from you at present! If you want to duel, then let's-"

"As I said, you're no challenge now," said Arian sharply. He shook his head, chuckling. "You haven't changed. As impetuous as always, with that quick, fiery temper of yours, and still so passionate, n'est ce pas?" He bore his blue eyes into his, his lips quirking upwards. "I wouldn't mind being the recipient of that again. Hmm, perhaps I will be, before I take you down. I'll think about it."

Orion bristled, and snarled enraged, "I don't know what you're talking about and I don't give a fuck either-"

"Hush," snapped Arian, suddenly stiffening and turning his head around.

Frowning, Orion followed the wizard's gaze, and was abruptly reminded of his surroundings. The young wizard had captured his attention so completely that he had quite forgotten about the other light witches and wizards. The wall of magic was still shimmering between them and the others, and only their muted voices filtered through, as if coming from a great distance. Nevertheless, spells were still being shot into the glowing mantle of magic and he now saw more wizards and witches running into the room from a door at the other end. Amidst the enlarging crowd of light wizards and witches, he could see Dumbledore staring at them, with a perturbed and tense expression on his face.

"You must leave now," said Arian sharply, facing him again. "I'll hold them off for a few minutes." He shot him a wide, beatific smile. "After all, I am known for my capricious ways and they would never dare go against me. Take the door to the left, the corridor to the right, and go into the room at the end, there you can get out the window. Oh, and take the garbage out."

Orion shot him a frown and an unfriendly glare, but he didn't think about it twice. He swiftly casted a powerful shielding charm on himself –he wouldn't trust the young wizard to not attack him behind his back- and he rushed through the wall of light magic. It uncomfortably tingled through his body, and then he was dashing towards the left door, as he ducked from an incoming curse, and while his ears were filled once more by loud voices hollering spells. In a flash, he was pelting along a corridor and he flicked his wand to bang open the door at the further end.

He glanced over his shoulder, and saw no one coming, though he could distantly hear loudly arguing voices, angered and demanding. With a heavy pant, he hurtled inside the room and shut the door behind him, casting several blocking wards on it. He turned around, his gaze quickly searching for the window, supposedly the way out, but he froze when he encountered something utterly unexpected. A horrified gasp stifled in his throat and he took a step towards the lump crouching and whimpering at one corner - obviously, what Arian had referred to as 'the garbage'.

It was a wizard, gaunt, slack faced, the wide eyes unfocused, the mouth distorted into a fixed grimace of agony, incoherent blubberings and whimpers coming out from it, saliva dribbling down, and with a limp arm hanging on the floor, it's skin heavily scarred, as if it had been repeatedly fleshed out by crazed fingernails, though the Dark Mark branded on it was still intact. It was Barty Crouch Jr., who had evidently been tortured to insanity. Orion's jaw clenched with fury, but as his gaze took in the rest of the room, he saw that there was a comfortable bed against one wall, along with a tray with untouched food, and a door which led to a small but tidy bathroom. Given the wizard's proper living conditions, even though he was obviously their prisoner, the light wizards hadn't been the ones to do this to Barty. It could have only been Voldemort, through the Dark Mark. He understood why; Voldemort must have tortured Barty to insanity before the light wizards could get any information from him. However, it didn't make it right. Voldemort could have tried to get Barty back, and the wizard had never even attempted it.

Suddenly, he heard rushing feet thundering along the corridor outside, and he didn't waste a second.

"Avada Kedavra!" yelled Orion, wand aimed directly at Barty's chest.

The green beam of light struck the mindless lump of a wizard, and the body slumped to the floor. Death, a small mercy for the one who had once been Voldemort's favorite.

Spells were now pounding and crashing against the door he had warded, but it wouldn't hold for too long. He glanced one last time at the body on the floor, before he swiftly reached the only window in the room, small and barred.

"Bombarda!" he snapped, putting the necessary power behind the spell.

Pieces of bricks and debris exploded outwards, and a gaping, crumbling hole was now torn into the destroyed wall. Orion immediately stepped on the ledge of the opening, and his eyes widened when he saw that he was three floors up, a muggle street beneath him, and the Eiffel Tower rising in the distance. He was in Paris – in muggle Paris, at that. From far away, he could hear the wail of a siren, muggle police or firebombers; some neighbor must have called about the sound of an explosion. Furthermore, he saw that down bellow, passersby's on the street were gazing up at him, pointing.

Orion took a step back, flicked his wand at himself twice, hissing, casting the parsel-invisibility spell and a cushioning bubble charm. And just when he heard the door banging open, an avalanche of voices yelling a volley of spells, he ran and plunged into a freefall. He missed smashing a muggle flat by sheer luck, and he bounced on the asphalt three times, before he unsteadily rose to his feet. Without another hitch of breath, he pelted down the muggle street, swerving to avoid the befuddled muggles and the police cars which were rushing to the scene.

Out of his breath, he finally reached a charming, narrow Parisian street, and he scrunched his eyes shut, concentrating with all his might to recall what the Rhine Falls looked like. In the bat of an eyelash, he felt the uncomfortable tightening of space around his body, and he let out a tired sigh as he was carried far away.

* * *

He landed in the middle of the small clearing in the forest, but the tent was gone. Not only that, Grindelwald was nowhere in sight. Alarm flared up in him, and Orion rushed through the forest, frantically looking for the man, feeling a troubled sense of panic. Merlin knew what the old German wizard could do whilst being utterly free and unsupervised. He was already thinking the worse, when he finally caught sight of the man.

Grindewald was lounging by the river's shore, apparently happily soaking his feet. Relief washed over Orion as he reached the old wizard, leaning down to place a hand on the man's shoulder.

"How did it go, mein junge?" said Grindelwald jovially, turning his face to gaze up at him. "Did you get the Wand?"

Orion blinked at him. The Elder Wand? That was the farthest thing from his thoughts at present. He couldn't care less about the bloody wand now. Dumbledore had it but he obviously couldn't destroy it or he would have done so long ago. Furthermore, he was already the wand's Master and he didn't need it for anything except for when he was ready to undergo the VA test, and he had no intention of attempting that until he was sure he was powerful enough to survive it – and he knew he still wasn't. No, the Elder Wand was the least of his problems.

"We need to talk," he said sternly, piercing the old wizard with a hard gaze.

Grindelwald frowned at him. "What has happened, mein junge?"

"Ariana's descendant has happened," said Orion gruffly. "And I want my bloody answers once and for all, Gellert."

"You met her descendant?" said Grindelwald stunned, his eyes marginally widening. He shook his head, and said quietly, "I've already told you that I don't know anything about Ariana's son-"

"It wasn't Hyperion," interrupted Orion shortly. "It was her grandson. I don't know anything about Hyperion. I don't know if the man's still alive!" He kicked a peeble into the rushing river, and glowered at the old wizard. "And you must know something, Gellert. Anything will serve. I just need-" He tightly clenched his hands into fists, and bit out, "I need answers!"

Grindelwald sighed, casting the falls a lingering, longing glance, before he swiftly rose up to his bare feet, flicking his wand to get them into his dragonhide boots.

"Very well, mein junge," he said, shooting him a crooked smirk. "I don't know much about Ariana's descendants, but I'll tell you the little I do. And I'll answer all the questions you asked last night. But not here. There's one last place I want to see, and there's where you'll kill me once we're done."

Before Orion could bat an eyelash, the old wizard tightly gripped his arm and he was plunged into an apparition, his stomach sickly churning this time.

The moment he took in the panorama before him, he stiffened, trepidation crawling through every bone in his body, while something lodged in his throat. Snow, there was snow everywhere – during summer. And he knew what would come; heat and snow, and the waves of pain, the convulsing, the blackness, and then the female voice crooning a triumphant 'yes'.

He glanced at Grindelwald, who seemed absorbed by his surroundings, the wizard's expression peaceful, relaxed and also melancholic, the man's gaze taking everything in, almost caressingly.

"Yes, I will kill you here," said Orion quietly, feeling a pit of dejection abruptly sinking into his chest.

Grindelwald glanced at him over his shoulder, shooting him a toothy grin. "Ja, you will."


	25. The End of a Dark Lord

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Please don't get discouraged if more 'mysteries' pop up –like Arian's existence in the last chapter- because Orion is going to discover a few things in this chapter, plenty of more things will be unraveled when he goes to Zraven Citadel, and the last few knots will be tied at the very end of the story. So, even if it seems kind of slow, we've now entered the phase where most 'mysteries' will be explained, and the end isn't that far away. We are now at the beginning of what would be the seventh book in canon and I won't make it as long as Orion's sixth year.

And, to Beast of the Sea, you were right about the existence of the Vindico Lumen *winks*. I couldn't tell you at the time when you send your review speculating about it but I was very satisfied that you correctly suspected it. Some hints about the VL's existence were dropped in previous chapters, but I had to wait a long time before introducing Arian in the fic. And finally, I could introduce him at the time planned *grins*.

Nevertheless, however 'charming' Arian might appear, he is first and foremost Orion's enemy, so I don't think there'll be any romance going on between them. For Orion, Arian is not a Lezander, Tom Riddle, or Draco.

This is a 'short' chapter, compared with the other ones, but much will be explained in the next update.

I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Chapter 25  
**

Before he even asked Grindelwald where they were, or before he continued inspecting their surroundings, Orion closed his eyes and deeply concentrated. He hadn't contacted Voldemort in this manner in ages, but he felt it was necessary now – they could gain something from what he had to tell. Therefore, he delved into his own mind to find that link between them.

At first, he felt a thrumming of dark, Necromantic magic coming from one of the deepest recesses of his mind. He immediately recognized it as the 'block' Vagnarov had formed. It felt as if it were a cork which had been plugged into a hole, with something relentlessly pushing against it from the other side. He didn't dare to even go near it. He was simply relieved that it seemed that it would hold despite that its creator had died. It was evident to him that Komorov had been right; Vagnarov had put into it vast amounts of his own magic, and it had certainly drained the old wizard and further debilitated him. Nevertheless, it still held so he quickly explored another source of alien magic. Then, he felt that strange yet familiar connection, and he briefly lowered his Occlumency shields and plunged into it.

_'Voldemort!'_ he called in his mind's voice. _'Are you there? Tom!'_

Orion gritted his teeth when a flare of pain sizzled in his forehead, just as a furious, demanding hiss reverberated in his mind, '_Where are you? I've been waiting for you to report about what happened to Draco Malfoy and his whereabouts-_'

_'Dumbledore's alive,'_ interrupted Orion hastily, scrunching his eyes tighter since the pain didn't diminish but seemed to intensify. _'I found him. I know where he is. I saw him about five minutes ago but there's still time. Send some Death Eaters to muggle Paris, Rue des Gravilliers, number fifteen, third floor. That's the old man's headquarters. Muggle police are around the area and the light wizards have surely already left, but the Death Eaters could still find something of importance left behind in hastiness-'_

'_Where are you?_' snarled Voldemort's hissing voice. '_You are trying my patience-_'

_'Just send your Death Eaters, we'll talk later!'_ snapped Orion impatiently, and he swiftly cut short their mind-to-mind connection, slamming up his Occlumency barriers.

A stabbing pain exploded in his scar, and Orion gritted his teeth and fiercely rubbed his forehead. Yes, Voldemort was certainly furious… Abruptly, in the next second, all pain dissolved into nothingness, and a small smirk curled Orion's lips. Evidently, Voldemort was now too busy and distracted with other matters... Good. It bought him time, and perhaps the Death Eaters would find something useful concerning Dumbledore's war plans.

He glanced at Grindelwald, who was still gazing into the horizon with a relaxed and melancholic expression on his face, and then he inspected the scenery before him. They were on top of the highest crest of some mountain ridge which surrounded a valley. Their peak had a pyramidal shape, of steep slopes, with patches of rock and snow here and there, with different layers of sedimentary rock at its base. To his left, he saw another peak nearby, but it was lower than the one they were standing at; in the distance, he discerned a muggle resort town; muggle climbing routes trailed around the rocky ridges, and a large lake reflected the scenery on its smooth surface, not far away.

Orion's boots sunk into the soft snow as he reached Grindelwald, and he sat by the wizard's side, with their legs dangling from the ledge of the steep, rocky peak. All around them, in the highest peak of the highest mountain, they were enveloped by layers of clouds. An orange lining stretched along the horizon, the last remnants of the dusking sun. And the snow, the quietness, the waning sunlight, the chill and the mist of clouds, encompassed him with a sense of peacefulness and beauty but also with an eerie ominousness. Why had Grindelwald chosen this spot to spend his last minutes of existence? Something gripped his chest as he silently observed the lights and shadows playing on the wizard's face.

"Where are we?" he said quietly, as he removed the sheathed sword from his back, settling it by his side and flicking his wand to cancel its parsel-invisibility spell.

"At the Swiss summit of the Matterhorn," replied Grindelwald, shooting him a crooked smirk, "one of the highest and deadliest peaks in the Alps."

Orion wanly smiled at him. "Another one of your favorite places in the world?"

"Ja," said Grindelwald, taking in a deep breath of cool, fresh air and sighing contently. "This is the only place in which I have a… 'good' memory of my father. He brought me here right after my mother's death, when I was twelve." His lips quirked with a wry twist. "My father didn't say a word to me, of course, but I think it was his way of showing me some type of sympathy after my mother succeeded in her third suicide attempt. Antigone, her name was."

Orion's eyes marginally widened as he stared at the old wizard, but he remained silent. Grindelwald had never told him anything about his parents, and he wondered why the wizard was choosing to do so now. Nonetheless, he wasn't about to break Grindelwald's unusual forthcoming mood, so he kept quiet as the German wizard continued.

"My father, the influential and greatly feared Gerald Grindelwald, was the most vicious and cruel dark wizard I have ever met," said Grindelwald, letting out a low, harsh chuckle, with his gaze still staring out into the dusking horizon. "Regardless, he brought me here after my dear, sweet mother killed herself when she was merely twenty seven years old. Oh, she was a woman of unparalled beauty and refinement, but I always understood why he treated her with such cruel indifference. Ja, she came from a prominent German dark wizarding family, and was quite powerful herself, but she had been brought up to simply bear children. When she was made to marry my father at age fourteen –which wasn't that unusual back then- she was a gentle being with no Dark Arts education and minimal magical formation. She was simply what everyone expected of her – a delicate, beautiful trophy wife who couldn't do anything but fade away under my father's stern and oppressive shadow. I always remember her, sitting in her boudoir, staring at herself in the mirror while she quietly combed her beautiful, long hair. Always so sad and quiet, but she never protested when my father brought his mistress to live with us in our manor. My mother accepted her place with solemn dignity, but also with silent grief. Therefore, I never blamed her for killing herself to escape from her gilded prison." He shot him a side-glance, and added in a mutter, "I never blamed my father either. Despite all his failings towards me, I respected him – admired him, even."

"What happened to your dad?" asked Orion, frowning. "I don't recall having heard or read anything about him-"

Grindelwald let out a low crow of chuckles. "He was poisoned by his mistress, months after he had made her his wife. Ironic, isn't it?" He shot him a feral, vicious smirk. "Her, I did kill, thus thwarting her plans to become the sole inheritor of my father's fortune. Admittedly, I also killed her in vengeance for my mother's death."

Orion's frown deepened as he intently regarded the older wizard. "Why are you telling me all of this now, so suddenly-"

"Ja, you're quite right, mein junge," interrupted Grindelwald, placidly smiling at him. "It's quite inconsequential, isn't it? You have much more important thoughts in your mind. But first, before I answer your questions, tell me about this Arian you mentioned… tell me about Ariana's grandson. What is he like?"

"There isn't much that I can tell you," said Orion, huffing as he leaned down on the snow, propping himself up on his elbows, frowning as he stared at a passing cloud. "He is… strange. He felt very powerful but also as though he was barely controlling his magic. He's disturbing, and I dare say, perturbed…" He grimaced, and added shortly, "He's very handsome too, deceitfully so because his countenance is one of goodness but I think he lacks it. He was right about one thing, he isn't like any light wizard I have ever met. He's dangerous." He snapped his gaze up to pierce Grindelwald with his eyes, and muttered acidly, "Put wings on him and he would look like one of those archangels that religious muggles like so much. You know? Gabriel, or one of those… And I think he is aware of what his angelic looks can do for him. I think he knows how to wield it."

"I see," said Grindelwald, toothily grinning at him, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement and interest. "He's the kind of wizard who has all the appearance of goodness which light wizards idolize, the kind of wizard to whom all others of his kind would rally to, correct, mein junge?"

"Yes," bit out Orion, kicking his boot's heel into the peak's rocky slope. "Surely you can see the danger in that."

Grindelwald's grin widened. "Indeed I do."

"He disturbs me," grumbled Orion, a dark frown spreading over his forehead. "He's more powerful than Dumbledore, he knows things about me that he shouldn't, I don't know how, and I believe that Dumbledore knows so much about Vindico Atrum matters because Arian told him, not just because of what Slughorn might have told the old man in his letter." He cocked his head to one side, and staring at Grindelwald he added gruffly, "He calls himself the Vindico Lumen, Gellert. He says he's my 'nemesis', and that he wants me to become the VA in order to defeat me, because I'm no challenge to him at present. Apparently, he despises Dumbledore and wants me to kill the old goat. Furthermore, he doesn't seem as principled and morally bound as most light wizards are. I think he's capable of anything."

"This Arian sounds like a worthy adversary, indeed," said Grindelwald with a chuckle, his expression one of untroubled curiosity. Abruptly, a frown marred his handsome, aged features, and he added quietly, "Albus' grandnephew wants him dead, you say?"

"Yes, Arian told me that himself," replied Orion shortly. "And I don't doubt that he was being sincere. I don't think he had an easy life and Dumbledore must have probably wanted to control him, mold him or train him… I'm not sure, but there's no love lost between them, at least not on Arian's part. Dumbledore is afraid of him, Gellert, I saw it in the old goat's face. Dumbledore seemed troubled and nervous when Arian approached me. He's scared of him."

Grindelwald's frown deepened, but the old wizard remained silent in his musings, and Orion finally pierced him with his eyes, and demanded, "What do you know about Arian, Gellert? Is it true that there's a Vindico Lumen as opposed to the Vindico Atrum? If so, what does it mean? The Spirits have manipulated minds for centuries in order to cross numerous bloodlines to produce the Vindico Atrum, and to purify the lines of other Houses. So, does it mean that someone in the Light's side has done the same to yield a Vindico Lumen?"

He shook his head, confused and troubled. "Who? How? Why? And what kind of powers would a Vindico Lumen have? I'm a VA candidate because I can use and control the wild dark magic in me, like yourself, so what can the Vindico Lumen do? What kind of light magic does Arian have if it's true that he's the Vindico Lumen? I don't understand-"

"I know as much as you do, mein junge," interrupted Grindelwald quietly, his lips set into a straight, tight line as he gazed at the darkening skies. "From what you tell me, Albus' grandnephew seems to be like his grandmother, like Ariana. I hope not traumatized into insanity as she was, but there seems to be similarities in the magnitude of their power. And I-"

"And you killed her intentionally, didn't you?" interjected Orion in a low whisper, as he intently gazed at him. "That summer day, decades ago, when Aberforth, Dumbledore and you started arguing and when Ariana lost control of her magic, you sensed the power in her, right? Just as I have sensed it in Arian today. The intensity of the power I perceived coming from him unsettled me, as if my own magic recognized him to be the most dangerous threat to myself; an opposing force, so to speak. There's something wild and uncontrolled in him as well, as if he was barely capable of restraining his own magic. And you felt the same thing from his grandmother. And that day, you didn't only cast stunning spells, as Dumbledore did. You felt her power, some deeper sense of your awareness recognized her as a threat, and in the midst of the chaotic casts of stunning spells, you casted something more powerful, knowing that it would kill her. Am I right?"

"Ja," replied Grindelwald shortly.

Orion nodded, and said curtly, "I don't know why you didn't tell me this before. Did you think I would have condemned you for it? I don't. If Arian is anything like his grandmother, I completely understand why you did it."

"I don't know what she was," said Grindelwald sharply, snapping his head around to pierce him with his hawk-like gaze, "but I knew that she had to be destroyed. When I felt England after her burial, I told the Spirits about her and about the baby she had had. They seemed troubled, but when I asked why, they wouldn't answer my questions." He shook his head, and added calmly, "I don't know if there's any truth in Arian's claim. I've never found anything which led me to believe that there's an opposing figure to that of the Vindico Atrum. Vindico Lumen, he said?" He arched an eyebrow, his lips twisting. "I don't know if it's possible or if something or someone could be behind it, mein junge. The Spirits are unique, they are Morgana and Mordred, by Dunkelheit! They are the architects behind the production of the VA, but who could be behind the production of a Vindico Lumen? Merlin himself?"

The German wizard scoffed snidely. "That light wizard was killed millennia ago, he died childless, and I can assure you that his spirit didn't linger on this earth. I would have found out about it if that were the case. Nein, mein junge, on this matter, I can give you no answers." His lips quirked into a crooked smirk, and he added loftily, "But, if there's someone who knows anything about Ariana's descendants, it's Komorov and the Spirits. I have no doubt that the Spirits have been monitoring the comings and goings of important light wizards throughout the ages, and every Aux Atrum leader keeps a logbook detailing the endeavors undergone by the Aux Atrum and their discoveries. Do you think that in The Archives there are only records concerning the crosses between dark bloodlines? Nein, the Aux's logbooks are also there and I know that every leader is granted access to them. Therefore, months ago, when Vulcan Vagnarov was demoted and Roman Komorov took over the leadership of the Aux, the Spirits must have granted Komorov access to read the logbooks. He's the one who could tell you more about Arian if the Aux Atrum have indeed been monitoring Ariana's descendants after I told the Spirits about her."

Orion shot forward to sit straight up, and he snapped, "Are you telling me that Komorov knows about Arian's existence? That the Spirits have known about him all this time and they never told me?!"

"Ja, it's highly likely," replied Grindelwald impassively.

Orion seethed with anger, but he instantly forced himself to calm down to quickly muse about the old wizard's words, and he finally said slowly, "I don't think there's anyone behind the 'production' of the Vindico Lumen, as you put it. Arian distinctly said that he considered himself to be the Vindico Lumen, not that he was hailed as such by others. Thus, he must know what he is due to his own knowledge about those matters, not because someone has told him about it. And it's obvious that he knows much more than Dumbledore does. Arian must have a way of knowing things…"

He frowned, and added pensively, "And I can deduce from his words what a Vindico Lumen is - what he is. He put it very plainly, he's the Vindico Atrum's nemesis and it's only logical to deduce that if I have unique dark magic then he has unique light magic as well. If I can use my dark magic to turn it into the power of the elements, he must be able to do something similar, yet, light in nature." His frown deepened further as he continued, "And if I have visions about my future as the Vindico Atrum then… then perhaps he does too, about himself… Perhaps, that's the way he knows about stuff… yet, the visions are given to me by the Kraljica Mati and there's no reason to believe that she has anything to do with Arian. After all, she's the Mother Queen of the Sdravkul Clan, a vampire bloodline with dark wizarding blood. She's dark and would have no reason to help a light wizard like Arian, quite the contrary."

"Indeed," interjected Grindelwald coolly, "but you don't know if she's the one giving you the visions, mein junge-"

"Who else could it be?" snapped Orion crisply. He pinned the old wizard with his gaze, and added shortly, "But one thing is certain, Gellert. Even if Arian doesn't have ancient Spirits backing him up, I know there's much more to him than simply being Dumbledore's grandnephew. It's clear that he now has the reins of leadership of the Light's side. The light wizards didn't dare attack him or go against him when he blocked the spells casted at me. It's obvious they know, to some degree, what he is. And you said it yourself in the past, there're many thing we don't know about light wizards. They have their share of secret societies as well, such as the Covenant of Alchemist. And if the Dark has the Spirits, the Aux Atrum and the Vindico Atrum, then the Light could have something similar; they could have legends we don't know about, tales about an all-powerful leader, beliefs about a 'Vindico Lumen'. And perhaps only a select few light wizards know about it. I never heard anything about a Vindico Lumen at Hogwarts, but that's hardly surprising. I wouldn't expect light pureblooded students to yap about their secrets, in the same way that dark purebloods don't do it either. After all, the Slytherins know about the legend of the Dark's prophet, but I've never heard them openly discussing it. It's a mere legend for them, and they certainly don't know that the 'prophet's' proper title is Vindico Atrum."

His jaw clenched, as he continued sharply, "Now that I think of it, this whole Vindico Lumen matter doesn't surprise me at all. Indeed, I should have expected something like this, someone like Arian." He shot the old wizard a shrewd glance. "And that's what you wanted me to consider when you told me about the Covenant of Alchemists, Gellert. When you told me that some powerful light wizards would oppose me when I became the VA, that unknown Light parties would be a threat to me, and when you said that matters would be harder for me once I became the VA. I see that now. You didn't know about Arian, per se, but you had an inkling that I would come across with someone like him."

Grindelwald merely met his gaze with supreme calmness, and stoically nodded, his lips quirking upwards with a hint of mischievous slyness. Orion narrowed his eyes at him, his mind rushing with convoluted thoughts and suspicions. But finally, he pushed them to a side for later perusal, and he sighed as he carded his fingers through his hair.

"Alright. I'll follow your advice. I'll ask Komorov what he knows about Arian." Orion's lips twisted into a grimace of loathing, and he muttered, "And I suppose I'll have to interrogate the Spirits about it too. Not that I'm looking forward to it. I simply want to kill them once and for all, but I can't, I need them still. And now, with Arian in the picture, more than ever, it seems." He waved a hand dismissively, before he bore his gaze into Grindelwald's and commanded shortly, "Now, explain Dumbledore's strange words to me."

The old German wizard sighed, letting out a grumble of tediousness. "Mein junge, once more I have to inform you that you'll find my knowledge lacking. Nevertheless, I will shed some light on those matters. Mind you, it's what I can conclude from Albus' words, nothing more. You'll find that there isn't much mystery to Albus' words, and my conclusions are plainly obvious."

"That's good enough for me," interjected Orion impatiently, staring at him expectantly.

Grindelwald shot him a small smile, a hint of fondness in his hazel eyes, before his face adopted an indolent expression. "Very well. Let's see. Last night you demanded to know why Albus asked how far along you were in your 'transformation' and what he meant by this. The answer is quite simple, mein junge." He pierced his with his hazel eyes. "You have been, indeed, 'transformed' during the development of your dark magic. At certain levels of power, our own magic does change us. When you use your Necromantic abilities, your eyes turn all-black, this is an outward manifestation of what that type of magic does to you. When Voldemort used his dark magic to produce one extra horcrux, his appearance changed as well, giving him snake-like features, since he has obviously used some magical ritual using snake blood or something similar to make his body stronger. This is another representation of how magic changes us. The same applies, of course, to other types of magic; namely, in our case, to our unique dark magic. That was what Albus was asking you about. And you do feel it, don't you, inside you? And you, above all others, will keep feeling it. That detachment, that coldness of feelings, as you develop further your Necromantic abilities, as you become more powerful in your dark magic. And, as you very well know, you'll be further changed when and if you survive the Vindico test."

He held up a hand when Orion was about to pipe in a question. "Nein, mein junge, I don't know the particulars, but I have told you repeatedly that it's believed that you'll be changed in essentials. By asking you how far along you were in your 'transformation', Albus simply wanted to discern just how close you were to your goal of undergoing the VA test. In other words, if you were powerful enough to succeed in becoming the VA." He shot him a crooked smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "And no doubt that Albus was trying to scare or worry you when using the word 'transformed'. Perhaps he wanted you to believe that you'd turn into a monster, but I don't think you have to concern yourself about that. What does it matter if your appearance is changed during the VA test if it makes you more powerful than any wizard in history!"

Orion frowned, a grimace twisting his lips, and Grindelwald let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Mein junge, such vanity! From what you told me, Voldemort didn't seem to care much about his snake-like features, and neither should you even if you're disfigured beyond recognition, which I doubt. I believe the VA test changes a wizard in essence, in mind, in awareness, which is much more relevant than any physical change. And if there's a physical manifestation of those changes, it's inconsequential, wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess," muttered Orion grimly.

Grindelwald toothily grinned, patting Orion's shoulder. "It is, mein junge, it is. Dark wizards price power above anything else, and that's something you'll never lack. You'll always have a flock of admirers trailing after you, no matter what you look like."

Orion scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's the least of my worries, old man. Alright, that's one question answered, I suppose. Now tell me why he said that my blood was worth more than his, and why he was scared when I told him about the voice in my dreams."

"Regarding the first," said Grindelwald placidly, "it's safe to assume that Albus was referring to your exalted bloodlines." A crooked smirk stretched over his lips. "After all, you're not only the Black Heir but also the Potter one, and I believe Albus knows this too. Therefore, you have the blood of Cadmus Peverell and also Ignotus, and it's clear which one Albus values the most. After all, it was Ignotus' descendants who at some point married into light families to produce the Potter bloodline, which mainly contains light magic despite that its 'tainted' with the dark blood of its first ancestors. But again, I don't think that Albus' comment was straightforward at all. He was never one to care about bloodlines – in public." His smirk widened. "I think his words were a mere reflection about what he was musing at that time, and Dunkelheit knows what that could have been. Indeed, the twists of Albus' mind sometimes stun even myself."

Orion intently stared at him, a frown on his forehead. He wasn't convinced one bit with the wizard's explanation, but as Grindelwald continued he didn't have a chance to voice it, and he decided that it was obvious that he wouldn't get much more concerning that matter.

"Regarding the second point, it's obvious that Albus was scared when you told him about your visions, the 'voice' and what it said, because its unmistakably a sign that you're very close to becoming powerful enough to undergo and survive the Vindico test." Grindelwald toothily grinned at him. "After all, didn't you tell me that the voice says that you're so close, so very near, as she calls for you? That she tells you to accept what you see in your visions and what you'll become?"

A chilly shudder ran down Orion's spine, as he remembered what he had seen concerning what would happen in a few minutes, recalling the crooning and triumphant 'yes' that reverberated through his mind. He curtly nodded at Grindelwald, gesturing for him to continue.

The old German wizard eyed him with satisfaction, as he said calmly, "Albus also said that it would be your end, namely, that if you proceeded with your goal of becoming the VA you wouldn't like the consequences. Again, this is a mere presumption on Albus' part, believing, probably, that you might not survive the VA test. And more importantly, like most light wizards, he believes that power corrupts. Perhaps he fears that you'll turn into someone like Voldemort in his worst years; a bloodthirsty madman who wants to annihilate all muggles. Indeed, Albus would see this as your end, as well as the end of the wizarding world as he knows it. This comes in hand, of course, with why he thinks that if you or anyone else becomes the VA, it would be catastrophic. It's simple. He knows that if the VA arises, the wizarding world would be thrown into a series of wars. Not only in England, mein junge, but in all the wizarding world and we have never had such a war before. Unlike muggles, there are no World Wars in wizarding history."

He pierced him with his hawk-like gaze, and added gravely, "Indeed, it's something that cannot be prevented. The VA has the duty to change the world for the Dark's benefit, and such changes can only be attained by means of war, mein junge. As the VA, you'll be the one to orchestrate and seize the reins of leadership of the Dark. And given recent events, it can't be stopped. The wizarding world will soon be involved in an all-out war, you'll have to learn to cope with many deaths in the near future, mein junge."

"I know," said Orion quietly. "But is that all what Dumbledore fears? The countless casualties of war? Surely he knows that-"

"Knowing Albus, every death at the battlefield will heavily burden his conscience," interjected Grindelwald wryly. "He'll even grieve over the deaths of dark wizards who he considers to be too young and thus naïvely innocent." He clicked his tongue in disapproval, before he waved his hand dismissively. "But, what he fears the most, mein junge, what he sees as potentially catastrophic, is for all the wizarding world to be propelled into a global war. That's where the body count will rise to unprecedented heights. And he'll see it as a cost which doesn't justify the end." A large smirk curled his lips. "Albus is all for das Größere Wohl, the Greater Good, as long as it doesn't mean that his kind, mudbloods or muggles will be the ones who will suffer the most. He believes in the sacrifice of an individual for the whole, but not the sacrifice of the whole for the higher aims of one sole individual. And he certainly thinks that the VA will bring about the latter. He believes that the VA will do anything in order to secure his own power over all wizarding kind. And he's right, mein junge, that's what you'll have to do, but you'll do it for the benefit of the Dark, for your own kind. Will you turn into a despotic ruler? Ja, certainly! But you'll accomplish much more than anyone could ever hope to. You will not be able to establish a democracy, mein junge, I'm sure you're aware of that. Nothing ever gets done in such organizations of a civilization. You'll be a tyrant. Thus, bringing forth the changes required in an efficient and quick manner. Surely, it will mean that you'll be loathed by many, that enemies and rebels will always pop up, but that's precisely why only the VA can succeed since you'll be powerful enough to dispose of anyone who goes against you, even of whole armies!"

Abruptly, he gripped Orion's chin, lifting it up as he pierced him with his eyes, and he said sharply, "And I don't want you to contemplate, to even think, that you would lose focus, that you aren't prepared to take such a position because you might turn too ruthless or merciless. That's not something a powerful wizard should ever concern himself about. You have your ideas straight, mein junge, I know that." He widely smirked at him. "And you'll always have people bothering you with their unrequested opinions. Indeed, I don't think that sour-faced guardian of yours would allow you to become a mass-murderer. Nor do you have the inclination, much to my chagrin. Nevertheless, your scruples will do you credit and the Aux Atrum will always be there to support you, even if your allies and close ones turn against you if they're bland enough to believe that your means don't justify your ends." He flashed him with a toothy grin. "And if you ever doubt yourself, I give you permission to use those Necromantic abilities of yours to summon my soul, and I'll point you towards the right direction. However, I hope you don't, mein junge. I hope you'll have fortitude and confidence in yourself to never doubt the choices you make."

"Thanks," said Orion, wanly smiling at him, "but becoming a tyrant, as you put it, is not something I'm afraid of, Gellert." He chuckled softly. "There're many who wouldn't permit me to 'abuse' my power. Snape, as you said, but also Remus and my dad." He shot him a large smirk. "And I can always make them see things from my point of view, so there're no worries there. And even if they oppose my methods, well, I'll always do what I think is best."

He paused, and cocked his head to a side as he pierced him with his eyes. "You've answered all the questions I made to you last night, except one. You said Dumbledore fears a wizarding world war, due to the amount of casualties, but I think there has to be a bit more to it than that, Gellert. Obviously, Dumbledore doesn't want the Dark to win over the Light, he doesn't want a VA to triumph. It's understandable since he's a light wizard, but he knows that Slytherin was right. The Treatise he wrote came to the same conclusions as Slytherin's research journals. He knows that if wizards keep crossing their bloodlines with muggles and muggleborns, the subsequent offspring of those matches would be magically weaker. And he must know that the VA's primary aim is to stop this from happening. Alright, the VA supports the Dark, but he's also someone who fights for the purity and thus the strength of magic in the bloodlines. Light bloodlines are also being affected, so why doesn't Dumbledore at least agree with that aim of the VA? Why did he stop his Treatise from being published worldwide? Why doesn't he want his conclusions to be known?"

"Because he rather have uniformity of magic than dissent, segregation, and war," replied Grindelwald coolly. "Ask yourself what a light wizard like Albus can aim for. What would his ideal wizarding world entail? Dark and light wizards have been fighting each other since the dawn of times, mein junge. For someone like Albus, wouldn't it be better if all of us were the same?" He arched an eyebrow, pinning Orion with his hawk-like gaze. "Even if it means that our bloodlines would be muddled with muggle blood, with our future children being magically weaker since the neutral magic of muggles and mudbloods debilitate the light and dark magic of our lines, all future wizards and witches wouldn't be light or dark anymore. They would all, at some point in time, only have 'neutral' magic in their blood, as you call it. Mudbloods are a minority, but half-bloods are swiftly becoming a majority at present, and if we kept having children with muggles, in a few centuries, there would be no light or dark wizards left. All of them would have the same type of neutral magic, all of them would have the same low level of magical power, and all of them would have the same customs and beliefs, which would be largely influenced by the beliefs and customs of the muggles their ancestors married. Thus, there would be no factions within the wizarding world, there would be no struggles for power except in the political arena regarding inconsequential matters, and there would be no dislike of muggles either. Most probably, they would agree to fuse their world with the muggle world as well. Albus wants a world of complete integration. He wants to annul that which differences wizards. Think, mein junge. What is that which defines us?"

"The type of magic we carry in our blood," muttered Orion, a deep frown spreading over his forehead. "So if we're all the same magically, there would be no fights between us. I see what he wants, and in a way, I can understand it. The type of magic we wield is what makes us different from one another and that which makes us fight for dominance. Much like happens to muggles, only that they have created more differences between themselves. They fight over religion, economic interests, civil rights in their respective forms of governments and even stupid things such as race and skin color. If those differences were diminished throughout the decades, they would still fight for economic power, but nothing else." He gazed up at the old wizard, his frown deepening. "There wouldn't be able to easily find reasons to go to war-"

"Who cares about the muggles, Dunkelheit blast them!" interrupted Grindelwald acerbically. "They'll always find some motive or other to kill each other, mein junge. They'll always blame others for their own problems and incompetence, and they'll always try to impose their pathetic beliefs on others. They're vastly inferior to us. Filthy ignorant savages, all of them! I want you to think in terms of the wizarding world, mein junge. Would you like to see us reduced to a bunch of wizards and witches who have all the same type of weak magic? Who have forgotten the customs of our ancestors, and the knowledge that comes from ages of magical study and understanding?" He tightly gripped Orion's chin, narrowing his eyes at him, and demanded harshly, "Would you, mein junge? If it only meant that it would spare us from wars? Is magical uniformity better than heterogeneity?"

Orion slowly pulled his face away from Grindelwald's clutching fingers, and he frowned as he mused in silence. He could feel the wizard's incensed gaze boring into him, but he remained quiet as his mind rushed with thoughts.

"No," he said at last, glancing up at him. "But I can understand why Dumbledore wants it, Gellert-"

"If Albus' intentions prevail, in the future the wizarding world would end up being integrated with the muggles, junge!" snarled Grindelwald, angrily narrowing his eyes at him. "Their disgusting, decadent beliefs, prejudices, superstitions and traditions would taint our society-"

"I know that," snapped Orion, leveling him with a hard gaze. "I don't want us to 'integrate' with muggles, as you put it. I don't want wizarding bloodlines to dwindle down in power and I certainly don't want light and dark magic to be extinguished, Gellert. I simply said that I can understand Dumbledore's point of view, not that I shared it. He wants the wizarding world to sacrifice magical power for the peace that comes with uniformity, as you said. This peace he wants would come at a high cost but it would certainly hold forever, Gellert. Nevertheless, I rather attain peace without sacrificing our types of magic. I rather withstand decades of war to establish a strong leadership which will be able to keep peace, by force if needed. But what would happen afterwards, Gellert? If I succeed, if I become the VA, win the wars for the Dark, make the Dark hold the political power over the wizarding world and then defend it for decades, what will happen after I die? It would all repeat itself! Light and dark wizards would fight against each other again, leaders would rise on each side, and there would be war, and later peace, once again, with the victor of turn. I would have accomplished to make the bloodlines purer during my period in power, but in the end, it would be all for nothing. Some new leader could destroy my work, and the same would happen over and over again-"

"It's unavoidable, mein junge," interjected Grindelwald solemnly. He narrowed his eyes at him, and demanded sharply, "And I see that you're still thinking about the matter. Pray tell me, what is it that has you so pensive?"

"That perhaps there's another way," replied Orion curtly.

Grindelwald's eyes narrowed to slits, before he smirked and said loftily, "Such as?"

"Bloody hell, I don't know!" said Orion impatiently, carding his fingers through his hair. "You can hardly expect me to find a solution in two damned seconds, Gellert! I just…" He slightly frowned. "I just wonder what Arian thinks about this matter. Does he share Dumbledore's aims? Is that what the Vindico Lumen is supposed to do? To make sure that wizarding bloodlines are completely neutralized by muggle blood, to make all wizards have the same type of magic in the distant future? Does he want to merge the wizarding and muggle world as well?"

Orion glanced up at the old wizard, and saw him staring at him with a strange expression on his face. "What?"

"Exactly how have you been affected by meeting that young wizard, mein junge?" said Grindelwald quietly, intently observing him with a troubled expression on his face. "Why would you care what Arian wants? According to you, he wants to defeat you, to kill you, to become the victor in the war. And it sounds to me that he seems to have some type of hold over you-"

"Hold?" bit out Orion angrily. "He has no hold over me whatsoever. I was simply curious, Gellert. As you're very well aware, it's always imperative to know your enemy as much as you can."

Grindelwald arched an eyebrow skeptically, but then the wizard merely nodded and gazed out into the horizon, apparently having nothing more to say and deciding to spend his last minutes in silent contemplation of the view afforded by their surroundings. Orion frowned as he averted his gaze from the wizard to thread his fingers through the snow, his mind a mess of convoluted thoughts. He couldn't help but feel that everything Grindelwald had said had some deeper purpose, as if he had been fed food for thought. It was very like the German wizard to give him information, for him to digest and come to his own conclusions, without straightforwardly telling him what, exactly, were the conclusions in question. And more often than not, the old wizard didn't really have the answers but expected him to find them. Grindelwald was as tricky and sly as ever. And some of the explanations for his first questions didn't utterly convince him.

"You know, mein junge," said Grindelwald quietly, pulling Orion out of his musings, "from everything you've told me about your life-" He side-glanced at him, and shot him a crooked smirk. "-which has certainly been most adventurous and entertaining, there's one thing in particular which has always piqued my curiosity and given me much to wonder about."

Orion blinked at him, puzzled. "What are you referring to?"

"To the way in which your father broke out from Azkaban days before, and just in time, to find you escaping from the Dursleys," replied Grindelwald calmly, turning his face to gaze at him. "Indeed, it's most peculiar. Was it just a coincidence that Sirius Black suddenly felt an urge to find how the 'son' of his best friend had been faring? He didn't know he was your father, you were merely his godson, as far as he knew. And I think that the timing was very… interesting." He arched an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you agree? Furthermore, I've always found very curious the way you reacted when you discovered you were a wizard and also a Black. The way you instantly poured over Dark Arts tomes, the way you staunchly decided to support the Dark side, even when your father was against it and when you knew that Voldemort had killed your mother. Indeed, despite all of this, you were always curious about Voldemort, you always wanted to know more about him and about the problems faced by dark wizards, and you always showed a disposition to fight for your kind."

"What are you trying to say, Gellert?" asked Orion, gaping at him. "Sure, the moment I knew I was a Black, and thus, a dark wizard, the moment I began understanding more about the wizarding world and the differences between Light and Dark, I wanted to stand side by side with my kind. I was ten years old, granted, but I wasn't an idiot, Gellert. I could decide for myself who I thought was right, and who to support. And ever since, I've believed in the Dark's cause. Why do you find it surprising?" He deeply frowned, intently gauging him. "Are you trying to tell me that you think that I was… influenced - somehow? That the choice to support the Dark wasn't my own? You told me yourself that the Spirits couldn't break into my mind, and they didn't know who I was at that time. From the Aux Atrum, Ragnarok and Gregorovitch were the first to see me, and the Spirits didn't start suspecting that I could be a VA candidate until the moment in which I saw them in the Chamber of Whispers at Durmstrang, to be sorted. So how or why would they have-"

"Nein, I don't think the Spirits had anything to do with it," interrupted Grindelwald, piercing him with his eyes. "I simply find it puzzling that when you were ten years old you decided to staunchly support the Dark, mein junge. I do find that decision intriguing, no matter how well informed you became in matters of Light vs. Dark when you purposely read all the books you could from Grimmauld's Place's library. Indeed, that hunger for information, to know about the Dark's history and plights, is also strange for a boy that young." He slightly frowned, a pensive expression spreading over his face. "Someone as young as you were, with a dark wizard turned light for a father, with reasons to hate the Dark since your mother was killed by a Dark Lord, and with no previous pureblood education… someone, someone like that wouldn't have easily decided to support the Dark, mein junge. I have no hypothesis on the matter. It's simply something which has always been in my mind, puzzling me."

He shot him a pointed glance. "And I think it's something which should be in yours as well, mein junge. There's something unaccounted for in the whole matter. I don't think your mind was tampered with, it's not possible. But I do think there's some factor there which we don't know about."

Orion stared at him in stunned silence, his mind speeding, but he honestly couldn't find anything strange about the whole issue. Perhaps, it was peculiar, he supposed, but he really didn't know what to make of Grindelwald's suspicions.

"Simply keep it in mind, mein junge," said Grindelwald quietly. "Maybe you'll solve the mystery someday."

"Er – alright," muttered Orion under his breath, slowly nodding at him.

Grindelwald pointedly fixed his gaze on Gryffindor's Sword which lay by Orion's side, and said placidly, "I have no more words of wisdom to impart. We should get on with it, mein junge."

Abruptly snatched away from his entangled ponderings, Orion snapped his head up to stare at him, and he mumbled, "Oh – yes. Right. This is it, then? The time for me to keep my end of our bargain." He stretched his lips into a forced, nonchalant smile. "I'll… I'll miss you, Gellert."

"Of course you will, mein junge. I am, after all, unforgettable!" exclaimed Grindelwald, crookedly smirking as he patted Orion's back. "I'm unique, exceedingly charming and awe-inspiring. There's only one Gellert Grindelwald in the world, and I know that my starling presence will be sorely missed. Indeed, the world will become quite a tedious place without me." He lifted Orion's chin up, and intently bore his gaze into his. "But fear not, mein junge, there will be others who will fill the void I'll leave in your life."

"I suppose," muttered Orion sullenly, before he did his best to grin unconcernedly.

It seemed that he didn't quite manage it; must have turned out a grimace instead of a carefree grin, because the German wizard was now frowning at him with a crossed and disappointed expression on his face.

"I will not have you moping about after my death," said Grindelwald sharply, piercing him with his hawk-like gaze. "I don't want to be mourned, mein junge. I want to be celebrated!" A toothy grin spread over his lips, his eyes sparkling with excited deviousness. "So what I want you to do after my death is to get stupidly drunk and then fuck senseless whatever handsome man or boy you find. That's what I would do in your place, and that's how I want you to celebrate my demise. In the meanwhile, I'll be laughing my ethereal arse off, finally untroubled from mortal coils." He widely smirked at him, his expression turning leering and lecherous. "And of course, I'll be waiting for dear old Albus."

Orion let out a bout of ringing laughter, sniggering in amusement. "You're incorrigible, old man. I'll do my best to please you and to kill Dumbledore as soon as I can."

"That's all I ask, mein junge," said Grindelwald contently, as he swiftly stood up and raised his arms into the air to stretch himself. "Pick up the sword and let's get on with it. I want you to slice my throat-"

"But... but," spluttered Orion, gazing up at him from his seated position on the patch snow, "but you said you would tell me your personal reason-"

"And I will," interrupted Grindelwald, his lips quirking into a sly smirk, "after you slice my throat. That's how I want to die. I'll bleed to death quickly but I'll have time to say my last words to you."

Orion jumped to his feet to stand face-to-face with the old wizard, and said heatedly, his tone accusing, "And that's the best way for you to die without allowing me to stop it once you said whatever it is you have to say to me." He narrowed his eyes, piercing him with his gaze. "I don't like this one bit, Gellert. I'm not stupid. Whatever your personal reason is, it's something I won't like. It's something which, once I know it, will make me change my mind about killing you, isn't it? Why else would you ask me to kill you in this way-"

"You said you would do it!" spat Grindelwald, his voice sharp and piercing, his expression furious. He painfully grabbed Orion's face in his hands, and hissed out, "It's my right to decide when and how I tell you, and how I want to die, and you'll do as I say. Do I need to remind you what you owe me-"

"No," interrupted Orion curtly. "It isn't necessary. I'll…" He thickly swallowed, and then nodded as he said quietly, "Fine. Have it your way."

He swiftly spun around and grasped the sword from the snow-covered ground. Tightly grasping its ruby-encrusted hilt in his hands, he turned to face the old wizard once more, raising the sword into the air.

"Now what?" he said tightly, his shoulders tensing as he stared at the wizard.

Grindelwald shot him a wide, crooked grin, before he sunk to his knees in front of him, with the sword's tip inches away from his neck. "You know what to do now, mein junge."

"Will I regret this, Gellert?" whispered Orion, his throat constricting and something piercingly clutching his chest as he gazed down into the wizard's hazel eyes.

"You shouldn't, mein junge," said Grindelwald sternly, "because you know it's necessary and because I want it." A soft smile touched his lips, and with his face still turned up to gaze at him, he added quietly, "I'm proud of you, mein junge. I want you to know that. And I'll be even prouder when you become the VA. It's your destiny, mein junge. Promise you will, no matter what."

"I will," rasped out Orion.

Grindelwald's smile widened, a fond expression flickering across his handsome, aged features. "Gut. And perhaps… perhaps I should also tell you that, surpassing my expectations, I've come to love you as a father loves a-"

"Don't," gritted out Orion through clenched teeth, his fingers jerkily tightening around the sword's hilt. "If you want me to do this, Gellert, don't say anything of the sort."

"I feel it's important for you to know," interjected Grindelwald sternly, arching an eyebrow. "Did you know?"

"I do now," bit out Orion curtly, while he felt a burning prickle behind his eyes, stiffness spreading throughout his body.

Grindelwald shot him a toothy grin, before he narrowed his eyes at him, and said suspiciously, "You will not try to resurrect me, will you, mein junge?"

Orion's eyes slightly widened, and he said honestly, "It wouldn't cross my mind, Gellert. Cadmus tried it several times with Eloise and she ended up killing herself. I wouldn't wish that for you. I cannot disturb the Balance between the Planes, not to mention that if I tried it every Dementor would launch themselves upon me and Merlin knows what the Guild would do to me. No, Gellert, in that, I will obey the rules of Necromancers. And if I take your magic, there's nothing for your soul to return to, just an empty, magicless body. And I think you'd rather be dead than a squib."

"Ja, precisely," said Grindelwald, with a nod of satisfaction. Then, he threw his head back to stretch out his throat, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Very well. Go ahead, mein junge."

Orion stiffly nodded, bringing the blade's tip to the wizard's neck. His heart was loudly hammering in his chest, and he felt as if he was an executioner going on autopilot, as his thoughts and feelings turned into a messy turmoil. Through his glazed vision, he saw as he swiftly slashed the sword's tip across Grindelwald's throat, a deep wedge instantly opening up, with flows of deep, crimson blood immediately gushing out copiously. A gurgled and pained groan issued from the old wizard's lips, before he toppled backwards, crumpling with a muted 'thud' on the pristinely white, soft snow.

Letting out a startled gasp, Orion dropped the sword to the ground, before he hastily sunk down on his knees by Grindelwald's side. An expanding pool of bright red blood was quickly covering the snow surrounding the old wizard, and he saw how the veins around the wound in Grindelwald's throat were standing out through the pale skin, turning into a lattice of web-like black tendrils – the basilisk poison of the sword's blade acting in the wizard's bloodstream.

Heavily breathing, Orion gently lifted Grindelwald's head to his lap, and he comfortingly caressed the wizard's blonde and grey-peppered curls of hairs, as he whispered with a tight voice, "Tell me, Gellert. Tell me your personal reason."

Grindelwald's eyes widened to stare up at him, his pupils slowly dilating as his labored pants of breath made more blood gurgle and gush out from the gash in his throat.

"Look… into my eyes," said the wizard slowly, his voice turning hoarser as his face slightly scrunched in pain. "I want to see them… soothes me… they're hers…"

"Like my mother's?" whispered Orion confusedly, not understanding what it had to do with anything.

"Ja… from what I've heard... but also… also, like mine's."

"Your mother's?" croaked out Orion, his eyes widening as his fingers jerkily tangled into the wizard's hair, his mind spinning in a havoc with the implications of the wizard's simple statement.

Grindelwald's pale, blood-stained lips stretched into a small, crooked smile. "Ja... that's the reason… mein junge… you were always mine… mein Enkel... that's the reason for everything… why you are what you are… you're mein Enkel..."

A painful twist churned in the pit of Orion's stomach as the German word echoed in his mind. 'Enkel…Enkel… Enkel…', he knew what it meant, but he couldn't understand it. His mind dizzily rushed with a tumultuous assault of why's and how's, and he could hardly cope with the horror of what he had done as he stared at the wizard's dilating pupils. Suddenly, he felt out of breath, something suffocating him, as comprehension, a sense of betrayal, anger, grief and rage took over him.

"You had no right to keep that to yourself!" he spat furiously, tears streaming down his cheeks as he violently shook the wizard's shoulders, making his head snap to one side and the other. "You fucking devious, lying bastard-"

A hand shot forth to grip Orion's collar, and Grindelwald groaned as he pulled his face close to his, and he hissed out, a splat of blood gurgling from his lips, "Make me proud!"

The wizard's hand limply dropped to the ground, his unmoving body weighed down on Orion's lap, and all became silent while the only thing Orion could hear were his own panted, loud breaths and all he could see was the red of blood amidst the snow. Orion remained frozen, his eyes wide, staring unseeingly into Grindelwald's dead eyes, as he understood everything -yet, in some ways, nothing- while a horrified, slacked expression spread over his pale face.

"Enkel… grandson," he whispered, at last voicing his reality, yet still shocked into stillness.

But before he could wrap his mind around it, trying to put his wild thoughts in order, trying to find some sense to all of it, he gasped out when he saw what was forming before him. A black mist seemed to be oozing out from Grindelwald's body, but it was no mist at all. He could feel it, tingling all over his skin; the dark magic scorching, burning in intensity. Tendrils snapped and coiled, swiftly forming a violently spinning whirlwind, a thick, shapeless black mass expanding, growing without pause. But it didn't feel threatening or frightening; it felt deeply familiar. His own inner magical core seemed to be thrumming and singing out in wild excitement and agitation. The small hairs of his nape and arms stood up, goosebumps covered every inch of his skin. And Orion bit down on his trembling bottom lip, remaining seated on his haunches in complete stillness as the mass of Grindelwald's unique dark magic kept flowing outwards, expanding as if searching for something.

He knew what was happening; he knew that if he dissapparated right then, the magic would simply sink into the ground, theoretically going back to the Source of Dark Magic in the Earth's core. Of course, he didn't go anywhere. This was the whole purpose of having killed Grindelwald. He was now the nearest focus of the same type of dark magic and Grindelwald's would soon detect it and plunge into him. His chest heaved, and his loud breathing became labored with anticipation but also frantic trepidation when he saw a tendril of black magic stretching out to touch him from the mass of blackness. He kept rooted in place, and a soft gasp escaped his lips when the coil of magic froze inches away from his face.

Suddenly, with a violence he hadn't expected, the whirlwind of dark magic rushed towards him. It looked like a leviathan force bent on swallowing him whole. And indeed, when it completely covered him, plunging into him with ramming brutally, he felt as if he was being torn apart from the inside out. He couldn't see anything but absolute darkness, and his eyes scrunched shut with a volition of their own when he felt ravaging waves of pain assaulting his body. He sank his teeth into his lower lip, but the scream he tried to stifle ripped itself from his throat before he could stop it. He had never before felt such a degree of pain. It was savage, brutal and violent, consuming, possessive and relentless - and unbearably scorching.

He felt as if he was being burned alive. There wasn't a single fiber in his body which didn't contract and twist in pain, he felt his limbs jerkily flailing and snapping against the ground, his body convulsing. And amidst the assaults of pain, he felt as if he was being forcibly filled beyond capacity. His inner magical core was expanding with frenzied and animated swiftness, as it welcomed the new dark magic. He felt it inside himself, inexorably getting larger and larger, violently wild but also soothingly familiar. But soon the pain became unbearable, worse than any Cruciatus Curse he had ever experienced and he felt his mind shutting itself down, darkness encompassing him as his awareness started to slither away from him. And the last thing he became aware of was a crooning, enticing voice crying 'yes!' in his mind, echoing victoriously, making a chilly shudder run down his spine.

* * *

Orion slowly opened his eyes with considerable effort, groaning in pain. Everything in his body ached and tingled. He felt dizzy and feverish, he felt scorching heat sizzling throughout his body. It was painful, and he wanted the heat to stop. He felt something cold against his face, and he discovered that he was lying on blood-covered snow. He curled up and frantically rubbed his face into the snow, digging his arms and hands into it, feeling a small modicum of relief as the coldness of the snow seeped into his body, mollifying the burning heat inside him. As he lay prostrated on the chilling snow, he discerned Grindelwald's corpse a few paces away from him.

It made a macabre, horrifying picture. Thin black veins could be seen spread under the dead-white skin of the wizard's face, the blue-tinted lips were parted open, the deep gash in his throat had caked, dried blood covering the neck and the wizard's robes. The hazel eyes were wide open, staring up, the pupils completely dilated. And around him, the snow was tinted red, the pool of blood having already seeped into it.

Without moving an inch, since every breath he took seemed unbearably painfully, he rolled his eyes to a side to glance at the skies. They were black, littered with stars that could be seen through some parted, dark clouds. It was already night time, so it was obvious that he had lost consciousness for several hours. Orion groaned again when he slowly tried to get to his feet. Despite the chillness of his surroundings, he was sweating, his body was trembling and his hands were shaking. He felt physically weak, sick with feverish heat, but also as if he was full and about to explode.

He felt as if his skin would rip open at any moment, there was something colossal inside him. His inner magical core was swelled, enlarged, spinning, sizzling and coiling animatedly inside him, but it felt too much. A soft gasp escaped from his lips when he saw misty blackness covering him, undulating around him, encompassing him like a mother rocking a child. It was his dark magical aura, but it shouldn't be visible so soon. He had stopped taking the potion to suppress his magical aura, as planned, but he hadn't expected the outward change to happen so quickly. It was obvious that what lingered of the potion in his bloodstream could no longer suppress the new magic he had taken inside him. And during the following week of detoxification, he knew that his magical aura would keep getting thicker, more evident, and awe-inspiring.

As it were, he already felt the potency of the magic he was now harnessing within him. Despite the feverish and aching weakness of his body -which was also caused by the first hours of detoxification that he was experiencing; it was undoubtedly already taking it's toll- he felt a staggering strength within him, a pulsing, vibrating power thrumming all over him. It left his breathless, joyously dazed and deliriously astounded; there was a wild, potent power within him that made him feel unmatched and invincible, yet, he also hungered for more. It was addictive, enticing, soothing, and also slightly scary, because it felt barely controlled.

Indeed, he was wary of casting any spell. He didn't know if he could control the amount of power he put behind it. He knew he would have to learn again how to restrain his own magic. Merlin knew what a simple levitating charm could do if he wasn't able to quickly adapt to his new potency of power. Yet, on the other hand, he wanted to know, as soon as possible, just how powerful he had become. The best way to find out was, unequivocally, to cast something and see what happened.

Orion groaned as he finally finished standing up, slightly swaying when he took his first steps towards Grindelwald's body. He felt that his eyes were swollen, and he touched the puffiness underneath them with his fingertips, and blinked. He had shed tears at some point. He couldn't remember when. He didn't feel like crying at all, at present. He simply felt emotionally empty and exhausted. As he stared down at Grindelwald's corpse, he just felt a pit of grim dejection plunging in his chest. Yes, he felt sorrowful grief as well as his gaze trailed along the wizard's body, but also anger, and it was all muffled under the numbness in his mind, which slowly revolved with his thoughts.

He understood many things now, after Grindelwald's confession. Perhaps not the particulars of how it was possible –though he did have some suspicions- but he comprehended the essentials. Namely, that Grindelwald hadn't told him before that he was his grandson, because the wizard had known that he wouldn't have killed him. Oh, yes, Grindelwald knew him all too well. He had done the impossible to have his father back with him, and if he had known that he had another family member, he would have done the impossible as well so that it wouldn't be necessary to kill him in order to obtain more power.

He realized, as well, with a grimace on his face, that Dumbledore had known all along that he was Grindelwald's grandson. He had lost count of the number of times in which Dumbledore had implied that he reminded the old wizard of Grindelwald, that they were alike, in some aspects. And he also realized that Dumbledore thought that he had known about Grindelwald being his grandfather. That was why Grindelwald was certain that the old coot would never imagine that he would kill Grindelwald. And Dumbledore was right, if he had indeed known, he wouldn't have.

Orion frowned, and slowly rubbed his forehead, his lips twisting. Or perhaps he would have. After all, Grindelwald had wanted this all along; this was why the wizard had waited for him in Nurmengard, why he had trained him, why he had mentored him to become the Vindico Atrum, and why the wizard had supported him in every decision he had made. Indeed, like a grandfather grooming his heir.

Several questions in his mind had also been answered: like why Grindelwald had told him about his mother, Antigone; why Dumbledore was so bent in 'saving' him -the old man wanted to save the grandson of the man he had loved and lost, to succeed when he had failed with Grindelwald; and most importantly of all, why Dumbledore had said that his blood was worth more than his. Indeed, Grindelwald's explanation had purposely skipped the most important fact. And he had no doubt that the Spirits were behind the whole thing. He had a very good idea why, as well. Hadn't he once said that 'Corelus Pommel' was the key? Yes, but not just Cadmus Peverell, but all three of them. He should have known; he should have realized it before now. The Spirits were nothing if not deviously thorough in all their endeavors and manipulations.

He shook his head, pushing all thoughts to a side, and glanced down at himself, grimacing. His magnificent robes were wet and covered with dried blood – Grindelwald's. He whipped out his wand, and clenched his jaw as he whispered a cleaning charm on himself. He yelped and jumped when he felt as if he was being scrubbed raw by the spell. The influx of magic which had rushed out from his hand and along the wand had been too great.

Orion sighed, and, despite that his robes were now impeccably pristine, he casted the cleaning charm several times, until he got it right. Then he experimented with a drying charm, to warm his snow-soaked robes. It took him several minutes to learn how to harness and efficiently wield the new power he held. He even tried to wrap within himself the dark magic which pulsed around him, but that was a lost battle. It simply refused to quietly lie inside him. If he didn't know better, he would have believed that his magic had a mind of his own and was purposely showing off, vibrating and thrumming all around him. Of course, the simple reason was the aura-suppressing potion had started to lose its effects on him.

Once he was sure that he wouldn't destroy everything in his path with a simple spell, he crouched by Grindelwald's side and proceeded to cast charm after charm to clean the wizard's robes and body. He then dug his hand into one of the wizard's pocket and snatched out his Phoenix Wand, tucking it inside his left arm wand holster. With a last glance at Grindelwald, he planted a soft kiss on the wizard's cold forehead, and then stood up and aimed his wand at him.

"Incendia mortem," he whispered, since he wouldn't leave behind a single hair of the wizard, just for precaution, as dark wizarding tradition demanded.

Instantly, a great, blazing, burning pyre engulfed Grindelwald's body, and in a few seconds, everything turned into scorched ashes, lying like fine, brown specks on the red snow.

With a flick of his wand, Grindelwald's ashes rose into the air, and with a snap of his left wrist, a deep, small pit was dug into the ground, plunging into the rocky foundations of the highest peak of Matterhorn mountain. Once the ashes flickered down into the pit, he covered it with rocky soil and snow. He flicked his wand again, cleaning the area and leaving no trace in the snow of Grindelwald's blood, and finally, he prepared himself for the last touch.

He sunk to his knees and plunged his right hand into the snow in front of Grindelwald's 'grave'. Without a second thought, he concentrated to call forth his unique dark magic, quickly willing it to fuse with the rocks, ice and snow under him, to course through them, raise them, transform and shift them, simulating the elemental power of earth. His breath hitched when his wild magic rushed from his fingertips, more potently and swiftly than he had ever experienced before, it responded to his thoughts and will with ease, becoming completely malleable. It left him breathless and stunned, but he kept making it flow forth, to obey his implicit commands, and in the next second, loud cracking noises issued and echoed from the depth of the mountain. Distantly, he heard a rushing, crumbling sound to one side of the mountain, and he realized that he must have caused an avalanche in one of the slopes of the Matterhorn – all the better, the muggles in surrounding towns would certainly come to investigate the following day, if some alpinist didn't beat them to it.

Before his eyes, as he kept picturing clearly in his mind what he wanted to create, a mass of rocks, soil and snow shot upwards from the ground, rising high up into the air. It cracked and shifted as it started to gain a clear shape; rocks forming the core and foundation of the statue he was erecting, snow covering it and freezing to form layers of thick ice, making the figure sparkle when the moonlight reflected on it. Orion kept imaging how he wanted Grindelwald to be represented and it was instantly mirrored in his 'work of art'. At last, he gave it the last details and touches, and finally flicked his wand at it, casting a charm which would permanently protect the 'statue', so that it never melted, cracked or withered, no matter the weather.

Indeed, he had just created an eternal commemorative monument for Grindelwald. It shone and sparkled, a detailed representation of the German wizard, larger by several feet than Grindelwald himself, but all greater for it. It almost seemed alive. Standing on top of its base, the statue Grindelwald looked as if he was about to launch an attack upon some enemy: an arm of ice raised up threateningly, with a long, thin wand in hand –representing the Elder Wand; a fierce expression on the wizard's face, a crooked smirk oozing self-confidence, smugness and vicious amusement curled his icy lips; and curls of ice stood messily around his head, looking like wind-blown hair.

Orion stood up and gazed at it in silence. Yes, it was beautiful and imposing, but he didn't feel any emotion in particular while inspecting it, making sure that it satisfied him. He had raised it for his benefit; it served a specific purpose.

Aiming his wand at the base of the monument, he flicked it, and muttured a spell, and the words in his mind were immediately elegantly carved. The epitaph was short and simple. Under the dates of Grindelwald's birthday and the date of that day, it read: 'Lord Gellert Grindelwald', and underneath that line, 'Dark Lord, friend, mentor and beloved grandfather.'

And he knew, without a doubt, that by the following day, or the next, some muggle would see it, some articles would be written in their newspapers with the news of a strange statue of ice inexplicably standing on top of the Matterhorn, the Swiss Ministry of Magic would hear of it, they would send Obliviators to wipe the memory of the muggles who had seen it first-hand, they would try to destroy the monument and fail, and then, they would cast so many muggle-repelling wards around the peak that not even the most accomplished muggle alpinist would ever find his way to one of the highest and deadliest peaks of the Alps.

Orion smirked. Perhaps it would become a muggle legendary mystery, like the so called Bermuda Triangle. His smirk widened, because the most important thing was that wizarding newspapers would soon be speculating about the grave's monument, about the words 'mentor' and 'grandfather' and about the date of Grindelwald's death. He couldn't have his gathering of students at Durmstrang, therefore, this was his way of letting them know. And not only them, but every dark and light wizard as well. Everyone would realize that Grindelwald hadn't been killed when Voldemort destroyed Nurmengard, that the German wizard had been mentoring someone and that he had a descendant. Furthermore, he knew that many dark wizards would piece the clues together and realize that he had done this, and thus, they would know a little bit more of who he really was and just how much power he had.

Voldemort and the Dark Allies would certainly figure it out, not to mention Snape, Remus, Sirius and the DA. And most importantly, Calypso wouldn't waste this opportunity to help him out. He knew her well enough to be sure of that. The young, shrewd witch would instantly understand the implications of the epitaph and she would make sure that every student in Durmstrang knew it as well. And it was one large step to gain their steadfast support and loyalty – in Durmstrang, Grindelwald had always been venerated, thus, so would be his grandson.

He glanced at it one last time, and muttered grimly, "Well, old man, is it good enough for you?"

By Circe that Grindelwald had to be looking down from the spiritual plane, crowing with amusement and satisfaction, with a wide crooked smirk undoubtedly plastered on his ethereal face.

Orion sighed, feeling the exhaustion and physical weakness creeping through his body. He felt a tightness clutching his throat, a hint of his sorrow, but above all, he was simply tired, emotionally numb and fiercely angered. He swiftly picked up the sheath and sword from the ground, shut his eyes and instantly dissaparated, not wanting to ever gaze again at the commemorative statue. He didn't want to mourn, he had his share of deaths for the day –first Vulcan Vagnarov and now Grindelwald- and he didn't want to think about the loss of either of them, about the gaping void they left in his life.


	26. The sneaky, tricky one

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

As many of you have said, the previous chapter was indeed mostly a lot of talking, and as pointed out in Orion's musings, some of the stuff Grindelwald explained wasn't utterly convincing, because he didn't want Orion to reach to the right conclusions before killing him. But, Grindelwald was straightforward and honest when he explained Albus' goals for the wizarding and muggle world –this is one of the most important points. And also, their conversation was extensive because they touched several issues which will come up in future chapters and I preferred to lay it all out in one chapter, so that I didn't have to mention or explain stuff again in subsequent chapters. Therefore, I know it had very little action, but the extensive conversation was necessary.

Also, this chapter is very short compared to others. And it's because I have started thinking that it's preferable to post shorter chapters so that the updates are more frequent. Nevertheless, I'm going to try to speed up the pace of the story in future chapters, and more action will take place soon.

A reviewer brought up an interesting point that I would like to comment on. She asked why Orion and Voldemort, for example, don't share magic or power through a bond. Well, firstly, I don't like fics where anything is possible with the use of magic, because then all is very simple. With a flick of wand, a wizard amasses all the knowledge in world, and stuff like that. It would simply be boring if that were the case, and it's also hard to believe. If such knowledge-and-power-sharing bonds existed, then everyone in the wizarding world would be bonded with someone. And since that wasn't the case in canon, it isn't in my fic either. I like things to be more complex, and I certainly like when people have to earn what they accomplish. Secondly, even if such bond existed in my fic, Orion and Voldemort would be the last persons on Earth who would want to be bonded that way, given the secrets they keep from each other. And also, you must remember that Voldemort is very possessive of both his knowledge of the Dark Arts and of his magical power. If Voldemort used that kind of bond, it would certainly be to suck all the power and knowledge from the other person, certainly not to share.

* * *

**Chapter 26**

As soon as Orion's feet landed on the marble floors of Draco's bedroom, he saw Daisy about to feed her patient with one of the potion vials that Petra Podroff had left behind.

The tiny, female house-elf immediately halted her actions, and her large blue eyes widened as she gazed at him.

"Master Potter's magic!" she gasped out, her inspective gaze turning wary, troubled and anxious, as she jumped to her feet to quickly reach him. "What is happened to Master-"

"Nothing," interrupted Orion swiftly, taking a few steps forward towards one of the chairs by Draco's bedside. "What you're seeing is simply part of my magical aura."

Suddenly, he swayed on his feet, and almost stumbled on his steps, before he plopped down on the armchair, letting out an exhausted sigh. He glanced up at her, and saw that she was still staring at him with round eyes, looking nervous and uncertain.

"Surely you're not afraid of me now, Daisy," said Orion, frowning at her. "You've always known that I'm a dark wizard." He pierced her with his eyes, and added sharply, "If you don't want to serve me anymore you're free to leave my side, I will give you clothes-"

"No!" said Daisy vehemently, shooting him an indignant glance as she planted her small hands on her hips. "Master is the last Potter and I is always loyal to Potter House. I is good house-elf!" Her expression slightly softened, as she added, "Master Orion Potter is good master too, sir." Then her gaze scrutinized him again, and she wagged a reproachful finger at him. "Master Potter looks ill! Master is sick, and must rest and be tended to. Go to bed before Daisy gets angry with you. Daisy will-"

"Daisy will do nothing except tend to Draco," interjected Orion sternly, slowly straightening up in his chair. "You are to follow the instructions Petra Podroff left for you, and only worry about Draco-"

"Who is going to look after Master?" demanded Daisy with a mutinous glint in her large, blue eyes. "I is good with healing. Daisy learned and Daisy knows how to-"

"I don't need to be looked after," interrupted Orion impatiently. He pierced her with his gaze, and added curtly, "As a matter of fact, I'll be staying in my rooms during the week and I want all my meals to be sent up there. Tell the kitchen house-elves to prepare food easily swallowed and digested; soups and stuff like that. The only one who has permission to enter my rooms is Dobby, so that he can give me the letters he fetches from Black Manor. You also have to tell him that I want the Daily Prophet to be handed to me every day, so he'll have to go to some wizarding town to buy it. If anyone asks, which isn't likely, he has to say that he's Narcissa Malfoy's house-elf not mine."

He intently gazed at her, and continued firmly, "And I'm sure that I don't have to impress upon you the importance of keeping secret the existence of this Manor, and of Draco's and my whereabouts. Furthermore, in two days, new guests will be arriving to spend here their summer holidays: Calypso Rosier and probably her father as well. So make sure that there're rooms ready for them. And they are to be obeyed in anything they ask for." He glanced down at his feet, and muttered grimly, "Gellert isn't coming back, so you can dispose of his rooms as you see fit. And nobody has to disturb me during this week. Do I make myself clear? Now leave, I need to be alone with Draco. I'll call you back when I'm done."

Daisy shot him a discontented glance, grumbling about wayward Masters who didn't take care of themselves, but she disappeared in the next second with a snap of her fingers.

With a sigh, Orion slumped back against his chair, slowly rubbing his temples. At last, his gaze landed on Draco and he saw that the spell Grindelwald had casted still lingered. The magic that surrounded Draco's left forearm like a cast, had thinned in thickness, but it looked as if it could hold for a few more hours.

Nevertheless, it was time to free Draco from the Dark Mark; the sooner that was resolved, the better. Only then would he feel eased from some of his immediate worries, enough to go out again to demand some answers.

He slowly sheathed Gryffindor's Sword, frowning when he saw that his fingers started shaking much against his will, and he flicked his wand, sending the sword to his bedroom. And it instantly shot out from the room, through the parted door, and out of sight. With another flick, he conjured an inked quill and he took out from his pocket the stack of parchments Calypso had given him. He spread them on top of the nightstand, and proceeded to carefully read every arithmetic and ancient runes equation she had written, chewing on his quill while he scribbled down some changes.

By the time he was done, he was profusely sweating, his mind feeling more dizzy and sickly feverish than ever, but he was satisfied with his work. He had only tweaked Calypso's spell-creating equations so that his Mark had to be casted with the use of Parseltongue. Obviously, she would have done it herself if she could. He thought it was important, so that no one could ever understand the incantation used for his brand – which he considered now to be the Black Mark, in contrast with the VA mark of the Aux Atrum and to Voldemort's Dark Mark.

He reread all the spell's instructions once more, memorizing them, and finally snapped his wrist, making the stack of parchments rise into the air and dissolve into a ball of fire which was quickly reduced to dust. With a flick of his wand, all traces of it disappeared and he approached the bed.

Orion's gaze trailed along Draco's pale features, but nothing much had changed. His friend was still unconscious under the magical healing coma. He gently wrapped his fingers around the boy's left arm, and instantly felt the hum of dark magic under his palm, coming off from the Dark Mark.

Without another hitch of breath, he closed his eyes in concentration, and hissed, "_Atra vindictusss!"_

He felt his dark magic flowing from his palm into Draco's skin, plunging and coiling into the young wizard's inner magical core. And suddenly, he snapped his eyes open when he felt Draco's arm jerkily twisting under his touch, a loud, incensed hiss reverberating throughout the room.

Orion immediately withdrew his hand, and stilled, when he saw a fuzzy skull rising up into the air, the smoke-like tendrils flowing from Draco's left forearm. The shape of a snake protruded from the skull's jaws, rearing its head, jerkily twisting as if struggling and hissing as if in pain.

A scream was ripped from Draco's throat, the boy's arm convulsing as if under considerable strain, but in the next second everything quieted when a silver glow encompassed the boy's arm. The smoke-like skull and snake disappeared into a puff of nothingness, and the still unconscious Draco sagged limply on the bed, a new mark visible on his forearm.

Feeling a slight sense of awe, Orion gently traced his fingertips along the silver lines of the mark, particularly around the shape of the all-black eye at its center. Suddenly, he felt as if a small, weak flame was faintly flickering at the edges of his mind's awareness – it was his connection to Draco, through the Black Mark. And it infused him with a modicum of relieved reassurance, since he knew that it felt 'weak' due to Draco's condition, but it was there nonetheless, signifying that the boy was alive and that the spell had worked.

Satisfied, Orion shot one last lingering glance at Draco, before he called out, "Daisy!"

The small, female house-elf immediately popped before him, and he frowned pensively as he said, "Tell Dobby to bring Sylvana back from Black Manor. Draco will be happy to see her when he wakes up." He wryly smiled. "I'm sure my snake will be quite angered at having been ignored for a whole year, but now that I'm not going back to Hogwarts, I can have a snake familiar around. And I could find some uses for her…" He shook his head, pushing those plots to a side, and added pensively, "Ares must have reached Black Manor, by now. My owl must have sensed when I left Hogwarts and he must be searching for me, since he can't feel me in this Manor due to the wards. So if Dobby sees him at Black Manor, tell him to bring Ares as well."

"Yes, Master Potter," said Daisy solemnly, "all will be done as you request, sir."

Orion shot her a warm smile. "Good."

He slowly stood up, feeling his knees wobbling, weakly supporting his weight. Nevertheless, he straightened his shoulders and gathered around himself all the strength he could muster. He still had much to do before he went to bed. He simply wanted to curl under his bed sheets and have some sleep before his potion-withdrawal symptoms worsened. And he wanted to fall into a deep slumber, oblivious to the troubles around him. But, first things first.

"I won't be seeing you for a while," said Orion quietly, intently gazing at her, "but I expect you, as Potter Manor's chief house-elf, to see to the safety of the people who reside here. If you ever have a reason to suspect that the Manor has been discovered by Death Eaters, Aurors, or any light wizard, I want you to take charge of all the other house-elves and take them into hiding. Above all, you must take Draco with you, employing force and your elvish magic if needed. You and the other house-elves must protect him, at all costs, from others who seek to capture or harm him."

Daisy gazed up at him with wide eyes, wringing her hands together in apprehension. "But, Master Potter, sir, where is we to go?"

"If Calypso and her father are here when and if it happens," replied Orion calmly, "then you're to follow their instructions and take Draco and the other house-elves wherever they tell you. If for some reason they aren't here, then I'll leave the decision to you. I trust your judgment. Nevertheless, remember that Grimmauld Place and Black Manor are compromised, as well as all other Black properties. However, if you go into hiding, then send Dobby to tell me about your new whereabouts, and I'll come to you as soon as I can." He placed a hand on her small shoulder, and gently squeezed it in reassurance. "Can I trust you with this?"

"Yes, Master Potter, sir!" said Daisy adamantly, nodding her head, her ears flapping up and down. "I see to the safety of Master's house-elves and friends!"

Orion warmly smiled at her. "Thanks. You can continue watching over Draco, now."

And without wasting more time, he quickly left the room, making his way to the nearest fireplace, feeling anger rising up inside him as his mind rushed, recalling the events of the last few hours.

* * *

Their voices reached his ears before he set his eyes on them, as his spinning journey halted and the green flames dwindled.

"… we only know of ze tiara and ze snake. The diary was uzed by Voldemort to come back and then destroyed, non? One other iz, possibly, a Ho'warts Founder's heirloom, but we don't know much elze! Most of ze original six horcruxes are in different vessels we don't know about. It would be best if we simply azked Orion. If we persuade him to tell uz exactly what and where they are, and to grant uz his permission and zupport-"

"Permission? If Black won't do it himself, the Aux will. And that's the end of it. He has been warned several times already, Sebastien. The horcruxes must be found and destroyed, and Black doesn't seem to even want to consider it-"

"He will, Roman. If what you say iz true, then only Voldemort stands in his way now. Wiz Grindelwald dead, Orion knows who he must kill next-"

Sebastien Valois and Roman Komorov had their backs turned to him, standing shoulder-to-shoulder around the large desk, gazing down at the numerous parchments spread on it. But when Orion finally decided to step out of the fireplace and into the Headmaster's office, both wizards spun around.

Orion shot them a contemptuous, angered glance as he closely regarded them. Sebastien looked as charmingly princely as ever, with his elegant light blue robes, waves of short sandy hair, and light hazel eyes which were now widely staring at him, a dumb-struck expression spreading on the wizard's handsome face.

Komorov, on the other hand, was intently inspecting him, his dark blue eyes clinically sweeping over his body, and he dare say, over his now visible dark magical aura. Indeed, there was immense satisfaction in the upward quirk of the young Headmaster's lips.

"Mon cher, your magic has become aztounding!" exclaimed Sebastien exultantly, quickly reaching his side to trail a hand down Orion's cheek, staring at him with unveiled awe and excitement. A visible shiver ran along the wizard's body, as he breathed out enraptured, "It feels zo powerful, mon coeur... Roman was telling ze truth, then, you have killed Grindelwald…"

His anger spiking, Orion took a step back, and he ignored the young wizard as he pierced Komorov with his eyes, and said mordantly, "I see you didn't waste a single second before starting to plot behind my back, Roman."

Komorov arched an eyebrow, and retorted coolly, "You've known for a while that we were going to hunt the horcruxes if you didn't. Surely this doesn't come as a surprise."

"You're not looking well, mon ami," interjected Sebastien worriedly, whose gaze was still admiring but now also roving over Orion's body and face with concern. "Ze transference of magic muzt have taxed you greatly." He grabbed Orion's arm, gently pulling him towards the armchairs around the desk. "Come, mon cher, let's all sit down and discuzz matters amicably."

Yielding to the French wizard, since he truly felt exhausted, Orion allowed himself to be fussed over, but then he caught sight of something which abruptly caused a spark of comprehension to dawn on him. He had caught sight of Komorov's gaze and the change in the wizard's posture, while Sebastien solicitously made him sit down. The young Headmaster had stiffened, and the dark blue eyes had slightly narrowed. And Orion almost let out a cackle of nasty laughter; he had half a mind to snidely taunt the older wizard, to dig where it hurt. Komorov was jealous!

So this was the reason why the wizard had started to dislike him. This was why Komorov had turned into such a jerk. The wizard liked Sebastien! And the man undoubtedly knew that Sebastien had asked him to marry him, once upon a time, before he had undergone the marital bonding ritual with Voldemort. Moreover, by the looks of things, Sebastien simply treated Komorov as his Aux leader; possibly with his characteristical mischievous playfulness and flirtatiousness, but nothing indicated that there was deep attraction or interest on Sebastien's part.

It was simply too juicy to pass up. Orion's gaze flickered from Komorov to Sebastien and back, and he shot the young Headmaster a nasty smirk while he slowly caressed the arm which was holding him as he sat down.

Sebastien arched an eyebrow, and whispered with a wicked, sparkling glint in his light, hazel eyes, "Mon coeur, does this show of affection means zat you finally agree to run away wiz me?"

Orion chuckled, but said nothing while he observed how Komorov, stony faced, took a seat on the ornate armchair behind the desk, leaving Sebastien and him on the opposite side.

"So you have killed Lord Grindelwald," said Komorov sharply, intently staring at him. "How did it-"

"I didn't come here to talk about that," interrupted Orion crisply, all vicious amusement fading as the more pressing and serious matters resurfaced in his mind. "Not with you, anyway." He narrowed his eyes at him, and bit out, "And what's all this horcrux talk about? You know that I won't allow his horcruxes to be destroyed-"

"Mon cher," interjected Sebastien quietly, "it iz necessary. Look how powerful you've become now that you have absorbed Grindelwald's dark magic! The next step for you, as you very well know, is to take Voldemort's. And for that, you muzt kill him, or you won't be powerful enough to survive ze Vindico test."

"Not only that, Black," said Komorov sternly, piercing him with his dark blue eyes. "Do you think that Voldemort won't retaliate when he finds out about the things you've been doing behind his back? Not to mention that you told me that Draco Malfoy is with you, and Voldemort will -I assure you- fit the pieces together and discover it." He leaned back on his armchair, and added curtly, "How do you pretend to protect Malfoy, proceed with your plans to finally obtain the Elder Wand, and amass more followers, without having a confrontation with Voldemort? Soon, rumors will reach his ears-"

"Yes, you made sure of that," snapped Orion incensed, "by refusing to recast the ward that Vagnarov had placed on Durmstrang."

Komorov's lips quirked upwards, and he said calmly, "Precisely. A small little push to motivate you into doing what is necessary." He narrowed his dark blue eyes at him, and added sharply, "If you don't get the horcruxes, Black, the Aux will. We won't wait any longer. We've given you plenty of time and now's the time to act! Now, before Voldemort finds out anything more about you. Because take for granted that he will kill you, Black."

"Now's not the time for me to go horcrux-hunting," retorted Orion impatiently. "I want to fix things with Voldemort, not to give him more reasons to create a division between us. Surely you see that. An open war will very soon break in England and Voldemort and I need to cooperate in order to win it!"

"But, Orion," interjected Sebastien, shooting him a worried glance, "things are moving very fast and if you wait until ze war iz over, it might be too late. You could at least find and gather all ze horcruxes. Don't destroy them immediately, if you don't want, but at least get them. Have somezing to hold over his head. And zince one or two horcruxes may not matter much to him, you should zeek them all."

"Right," said Orion crisply, "and when should I do this? I barely have time to do all the things I've already planned. I'm going to Zraven Citadel, then I want to undergo my Necromantic training to become a full-fledged Necromancer, not to mention that I want to lead my allies during the English war. So when, exactly, do you propose that I go horcrux-hunting, Bastien?"

"The solution is simple," said Komorov sternly, piercing him with his eyes, "tell us what they are and where they can be, and the Aux will get them."

Orion snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he leveled him with a hard gaze. "Not in a million years. If you get them, you'll destroy them, and I don't want that-"

"They have to be destroyed!" snarled Komorov furiously, pounding a fist on his desk, making parchments jump into the air. "Don't be a fool, Black!"

"If anyone's destroying them it will be me, not you!" spat Orion enraged, narrowing his eyes at him. "I had to kill Gellert because he wanted it, and because I knew he would eventually be a threat to me since the pull of his dark magic never stopped affecting him. But Voldemort is another case entirely. He doesn't have enough amounts of my type of unique dark magic in him to feel the pull so strongly. And I'm going to become a Necromancer, and thus become more powerful, so that I won't need to have Voldemort's dark magic to undergo the VA test. If I get the horcruxes, it will be just for precaution, but I won't destroy them! And you forget that I'm a horcrux myself-"

"But you can solve that problem, mon cher," interjected Sebastien quietly, "Vagnarov believed that, with ze use of Necromancy, you could dispose of ze alien piece of soul which attached itself to yours."

Orion frowned at him, and said crisply, "I could only do that if I knew enough about Necromancy, if I became a full-fledged Necromancer. And even then, I'm not sure if it's possible. His piece of soul has been with me for sixteen years, Bastien! And Voldemort himself told me that it must have completely merged with my soul. From what I know, the only possibility is for me to die, so that the horcrux in me is destroyed. And how am I supposed to survive death, eh? Gellert also believed that perhaps my Necromancy could help in that regard, but would you have me risk my life on a supposition?"

"I dare say that you won't have a choice," interjected Komorov gravely. "If you continue to spare Voldemort's life, he'll be the one to kill you and destroy the horcrux within you-"

"I see," spat Orion incensed, "so now you not only want me to gather the horcruxes, but also to possibly sacrifice my life so that his last horcrux can be destroyed? Do you take me for a fool?! That's what Dumbledore wanted!"

"You misunderstand us, mon cher," said Sebastien gently. "Indeed, ze last thing we want is for Voldemort to kill you, since it's not certain if you would zurvive it." His light, hazel gaze flickered to Komorov, and then back to Orion, as he continued quietly, "What we want iz for you to destroy all ze other horcruxes, then kill Voldemort to absorb the raw dark magic he has in his magical core. Once ze only thing of his in existence is the piece of soul inzide you, there are little chances that it could leave your body on its own, to posses another. And then, you might even find some eazy way to dispose of it, since his master soul would have already been destroyed. In ze end, we don't think it's necessary for you to destroy ze piece of soul within you to get his magic. We believe that if you kill him in his current body and destroy ze master soul, then the magic that flows in his body will go to you. But, of courze, the master soul cannot be destroyed if all ze other horcruxes still exist."

"You're wrong," interjected Orion quietly, sighing as he jerkily carded his fingers through his hair. "I can indeed destroy his master soul without having previously destroyed his other horcruxes." He grimaced. "I know the Necromantic spell that can accomplish it. I've seen myself using it, though I'm quite sure that I had already destroyed the horcruxes as well, given the stuff I said…" He glanced up at him, and muttered, "But my point is that I can destroy the master soul, and thus get his magic, without needing to destroy his other horcruxes."

"Are you sure of this?" demanded Komorov, intently gazing at him.

"Yes," said Orion shortly.

"Excellent!" said Sebastien excitedly, shooting them a satisfied glance. "Then all iz solved-"

"It isn't," interrupted Komorov, a deep frown spreading over his face. "I had to learn quite a lot regarding horcruxes and the spells involved for their creation, Black. A horcrux is not only a vessel for a piece of soul, but it's also tied to the magic of the individual. When Tom Riddle sprung from the diary, he had used a life sacrifice to accomplish it, absorbing both life and magic from his victim – the Weasley girl. That allowed him to merge with Voldemort's master piece of soul, which had been floating around for over a decade. When a wizard who created horcruxes dies, his magic leaves the body and remains, most of it, with the master piece of soul. That's the purpose of horcruxes, after all; to bind the master soul to this plane, retaining the magic of the wizard." He pierced Orion with suspicious, narrowed eyes. "If you kill the master soul when the other horcruxes still exist, one of those pieces of soul would become the new master soul, and his magic would go to it, Black."

Orion shot him a sweet, sugary smile, seeing no point in denying it. "True."

"You were lying to us?" whispered Sebastien, staring at him with wide eyes. "Why, mon cher? All we're trying to do iz help you-"

"I told you a half-truth, not a lie, since I was honest about the Necromantic spell. And all you're trying to do," snapped Orion angrily, "is force me to commit to a decision I'm not willing to take so soon! I will not act against him by destroying his horcruxes when I still have reasons to believe that his death is not necessary for me to be powerful enough to survive the VA test."

Sebastien shook his head, but then his hazel eyes lightened up, and he demanded, "So, according to you two, if you kill Voldemort and destroy hiz master soul, hiz magic would go to one of ze horcruxes that remain. So it could go into you, mon cher-"

"It isn't likely," interjected Komorov gravely. "Black was made into a horcrux by mistake. Thus, the piece of soul in him has to be much smaller and weaker than those in the other horcruxes. It would be safe to assume that Voldemort's magic would go into the horcrux containing the strongest piece of soul, that which would be the 'new master soul', to call it something." He shot Orion a stern glance, and added gruffly, "The only way to make sure that his magic goes to you is to destroy all the other horcruxes before you kill him."

"He's right, mon coeur," said Sebastien musingly, glancing at Orion with a beseeching expression on his face. "You muzt do it." He sighed, and added reluctantly, "If you want him back, then perhaps you can later use ze piece of soul inzide you, transfer it to another body, and-"

"Right," said Orion acerbically. "And that would help, how? I doubt that the piece of soul inside me has any memories of its life, since it was ripped from the master soul by accident, so surely Voldemort didn't infuse it with any memories. And I could only transfer it to a body created by a Necromantic spell, with the use of his flesh, but it would contain no magic. Who wants to live like a muggle? Even if I sacrificed the life of some dark wizard, so that I could give him a body with magic, he still wouldn't be himself. He wouldn't have the amounts of power he had, and I doubt he would remember anything. Death would be preferable to him, I'm sure."

"I'm glad we agree, then," interjected Komorov swiftly. "So you will gather and destroy the horcruxes, and kill him-"

"Look," interrupted Orion impatiently. "I do see your point, really, but I won't start destroying horcruxes and I won't kill him before I'm sure it's the only way left. And before I'm certain that it must be done, not only for me to become the VA, but because he turned into a threat to me, or something of the sort. So, I'm willing to start gathering the horcruxes, at some point, when I have time. But I won't destroy them. I'll simply keep them, just in case. Take it or leave it."

"Agreed," jumped in Sebastien, shooting Komorov a stern glance before he warmly smiled at Orion. "We won't prezzure you again, concerning this matter."

"Not for the time being," corrected Komorov sharply, leveling Orion with a hard gaze.

"Good," said Orion sternly. "So I have your word that you won't go looking for them to destroy them, right?"

"We won't," conceded Komorov curtly. "But if we see that you're simply postponing that task, then we will take charge."

"Fine," said Orion, waving a hand dismissively. He pierced him with angered, narrowed eyes, and bit out, "Now, Roman, do explain to me why you never told me anything about Arian Hyperion Valenor. And tell me all you know about him-"

"Arián?" interrupted Sebastien, frowning at him puzzledly. "Why are you interested in him?"

Orion stared at him, blinking. "You know him?" He shot a frown at Komorov. "I thought that only the leader of the Aux could read the logbooks-"

"Mais oui, of courze I know Valenor," interjected Sebastien, looking more confused and puzzled with each passing second. "But what do the logbooks have to do wiz him? I don't have access to them, of courze, only Roman does. But why would Arián be mentioned in them…" He trailed off and glanced at Komorov with a strange expression on his face. "What's all zis about, Roman?"

"No, first tell me what _you_ know about Valenor," commanded Orion shortly, intently gazing at the French wizard.

Sebastien frowned at him. "Well, I know what everyone in France knows about him." He shot a glance at Komorov and then returned his attention back to Orion. "And what Roman undoubtedly knows too. I have mentioned Arián to him in the past." He frowned again, his voice lowering, as if he was recalling something, "And Ragnarok uzed to ask me questions about him az well, years ago when he was tutoring me in ze Darks Arts and before he introduced me to ze Aux-"

"Oh, bother Ragnarok," cut in Orion impatiently, "just tell me what you know about Arian, Bastien."

"There really izn't much to tell," said Sebastien, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Arián attended Beauxbatons, he was one year my junior. He's a light pureblooded wizard. He comes from an important French light wizarding family; ze Valenors. And he must be ze Head of Valenor House at present. I haven't seen him in ages. He was very popular, a very bright student, probably one of ze best, he was charismatic, eazy going, good natured, he liked to help others, he liked to prank az well-" He chuckled. "- and teachers and students alike adored him. Girls were head over heels in love with him, as much as they were with me." He winked at him, but then a hint of commiseration crept into his voice, as he added, "But ze poor boy stopped attending school during his fourth year. I don't know exactly what happened, but his parents died, it was all over ze French wizarding newspapers. His father, Hyperion Valenor, was a… what is ze English word? …an Unspeakable! And for some reason or other, the wizard was experimenting with something work-related at his home, where his wife was as well. Something went wrong and ze house blew up! Hyperion Valenor and his wife, Elena Delacour, were killed, and Arián was-"

"Delacour?!" gasped out Orion, staring at him with round eyes. "Do you mean to tell me that Arian is related to Fleur Delacour?"

"Of courze!" said Sebastien, gazing at him as if it were the most obvious and known fact in the wizarding world. "They are couzins, since they share ze same grandmother, Amacyntha Delacour, who was-"

"A veela…" breathed out Orion. "…yes, Fleur mentioned her grandmother to me once." Abruptly, harsh, humourless chuckles sprung from his mouth, and he bit out sarcastically, "So he's a quarter veela like Fleur? Fantastic! Yeah, why not, just what I bloody needed!"

He made himself clamp his mouth shut, before he leveled Sebastien with a fierce gaze, and barked out, "What else! What happened to Arian after his parents died?"

"I don't know," replied Sebastien, looking at him concernedly, surely due to his outburst. "He didn't finish his fourzth year at Beauxbatons and he never returned. That was ze last time I saw him. I think he had no immediate family left. His Valenor grandparents had already died, as had his Delacour ones. I have heard zome rumours in France, saying that he has been travelling all over ze world ever since ze accidental death of his parents."

"I see," muttered Orion, frowning as he leaned back on his armchair. "Well, he has an interesting blood mix, I'll tell you that." He shot Sebastian a smirk. "He is no pureblood, whatever they believe in France." His gaze then landed on the stoically silent Komorov, and he added acerbically, "Isn't that right, Roman? Come, come, it's time to spill the beans. Let's tell Bastien who _Arián_ is. Would you like to do the honors?"

Komorov threw him an irritated glance, evidently not amused, and said curtly, "Can I infer, given your interest in him, that you have met Valenor?"

"Spot on," said Orion mordantly. "And he had many juicy things to tell me." He pierced him with his eyes, and demanded sharply, "Have you read about him in the Aux's logbooks? Has he been monitored during these past years?"

"Yes, on both accounts," replied Komorov coolly.

Orion narrowed his eyes at him, and snapped angrily, "Well, do bloody tell, Roman, because you'll find me lacking patience today and you have much to answer for."

"Do I?" said Komorov casually, arching an eyebrow.

"If you don't tell me what I want to know," hissed out Orion through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching, "I'll promise to rip it from you through torture. Do I make myself clear, or do you need a fucking demonstration first-"

"Would either of you mind telling me," interjected Sebastien with irritation, "why we are discuzzing Arián at all?" He shot Orion a confused glance. "And why do you zay that he's not a pureblood, mon cher?"

"What isn't commonly known, Sebastien," said Komorov calmly, "is that Arian's father, Hyperion, was not a Valenor by birth. He was adopted by Vincent Valenor, when his wife, Aurora, brought the baby to live with them. Aurora was a distant aunt of Albus Dumbledore. Vincent and Aurora Valenor were in their mid sixties when they took in Hyperion. Aurora was barren, and since the couple was childless, Hyperion was adopted and made the Valenor Heir. But-"

"The point is," cut in Orion impatiently, "that Hyperion was a halfblood. Albus Dumbledore's little sister was gang-raped by muggles and Hyperion was the result of it. Dumbledore's aunt, this Aurora Valenor, apparently, took the baby to live with her because Albus was too young to take care of him. And Albus' teenage brother, Aberforth, also went to live with this aunt for a while, according to Gellert. So, you see, Arian is not a pureblood, but he is a-"

"A Dumbledore," said Sebastien slowly, staring at him with wide eyes. "Albus Dumbledore's grandnephew."

"Exactly," said Orion, smirking with satisfaction. "Not only that. From what Arian himself has told me, Dumbledore has recently adopted him so that he can legally bear the Dumbledore surname. And I bet you anything that it was done with a blood ritual."

Komorov speared him with an intense gaze. "Are you certain about this?"

"Yes, on both accounts," said Orion, volleying back the man's previous words, his smirk widening as he relaxedly leaned back on his seat. "Albus Dumbledore is no fool, and that Arian is certainly a sneaky, tricky one. Oh, yes, I'm starting to understand a lot of things now… Yes, plenty makes sense. Tell me, Roman, where did Arian go after leaving Beauxbatons?" He grinned, and held up a hand. "No, don't tell me. I know. He lived with the Flamels, didn't he? With Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, of course!"

"How did you know that?" demanded Komorov, fixedly staring at him.

Orion let out a bark of laughter. "Because I'm bloody brilliant, and it's exactly what I would have done if I had been Albus Dumbledore! The old goat is so predictable when it comes to his methods of molding into a tool anyone with a bit of magical power."

He leaned forward, and said with satisfaction, "So I'm right, aren't I? Dumbledore sent Arian to the Flamels when Arian's parents died. And that can only mean that Arian has alchemist abilities as well, just like the old coot himself. Dumbledore is no fool. He couldn't look after a young boy, he was busy at Hogwarts and didn't want anyone to know about Arian. And he couldn't leave Arian to be raised in a pub by Aberforth, though I bet you anything that Aberforth must have wanted to do so. No, Albus sent the boy where Arian could be best molded and trained. Who better than the old goat's old pal? And the leader of the Covenant of Alchemists, to boot! And when Nicolas Flamel and his wife kicked the bucket, after Dumbledore convinced them to destroy the Philosopher's Stone, I bet the entire Black fortune that Arian made his bid for freedom and independence. He escaped. Am I right?"

"Yes," muttered Komorov, still looking a bit disconcerted by him. "Karkaroff's and Vagnarov's logbooks do indeed say that the Aux had seen Arian living with the Flamels for a while, but after that, they lost track of the boy for a long period of time. He was last seen in Egypt, some years ago. It seems that Valenor has indeed been traveling widely."

"I don't doubt it," said Orion placidly. "He escaped from Dumbledore's clutches, he travelled to imbue himself in important wizarding cultures, undoubtedly continuing his magical education by learning on his own and making useful contacts, and he probably even explored the muggle world. It would help him in his aims."

"Which are?" interjected Sebastien, piercing him with his light hazel eyes. "I can see that Arián iz important because he's a Dumbledore, but what aren't you telling uz? Why-"

"Us?" said Orion, with a harsh chuckle. "I assure you that Roman knows exactly why Arian is important. Though your leader seems to have chosen to keep you, his right-hand, uninformed." He shot Komorov a nasty smirk. "Do tell him, Roman."

Komorov's jaw momentarily clenched, before he gazed at Sebastien and said quietly, "It seems that Valenor is very powerful and has exceptional magical abilities-"

"Oh for Merlin's staff," snapped Orion impatiently. "What he's trying to say, Bastien, is that Arian calls himself the Vindico Lumen, as in, the 'nemesis' of the Vindico Atrum."

"But- but," muttered Sebastien, deeply frowning at him, "I've never heard of somezing like that before." His gaze flickered to Komorov, and he demanded, "Iz it true? There's a... Vindico Lumen?"

"Apparently," said Komorov stoically. "But I know as much as you do about it. The Spirits won't tell me anything, and there's not a single word about 'Vindico Lumens' written in the Aux's logbooks."

"You're both missing the point," said Orion with miffed annoyance. "The Spirits know, that's for sure, and they won't tell, that's also certain. I'm not even going to attempt to get that information from them, because I already have a pretty good idea." He leveled both of them with a hard gaze. "I believe Arian's claims. Gellert knew I would come across someone like him at some point. What matters now is what, exactly, Arian is up to, and what are his goals. And both are things that I'll have to glean from Arian himself."

He shot Sebastien a glance, and demanded, "Now, there's one thing I need to know. Do you remember when Arian's parents died? You said it was during his fourth year at Beauxbatons. So, was it during school holidays?"

Sebastien frowned, his expression turning pensive. "I don't remember…" His eyes widened, and he said vehemently, "Mais oui, I believe it waz during Christmas holidays. But why iz that important, mon cher?"

"Because his parents' death was no accident," said Orion sharply, "not how it must have been put in the newspapers, at least." He scoffed, and added snidely, "An Unspeakable taking his work home? Please! They never do that, they can't, they aren't allowed. Whatever happened, it was not what the public was told. And it's possible that Albus used his contacts in the French Ministry of Magic to cover it up, or something of the sort. And if it happened during Christmas holidays, then Arian could have been there-"

"Ze house blew up, Orion," interjected Sebastien. "Arián couldn't have been inzide-"

"We don't know for sure," interrupted Orion curtly, piercing him with his eyes. "There's a precedent, Bastien. Arian's grandmother, Albus' sister, was very powerful but also deeply traumatized. Gellert told me that she had lost control over her magic and that the girl's mother died because of it. And Arian's magic certainly felt as if it was barely restrained. It felt stormy, wild, barely controlled! Either his father lost control of his magic, or Arian did." He frowned, and added musingly, "Or it was something else entirely…" His frowned deepened as he gazed at Komorov. "Is it possible that Arian can absorb light magic that is like his own, if he kills a wizard who has it? Just like I did with Grindelwald?"

"You suspect that Arian killed his own father?" asked Komorov frowning.

"I don't know," said Orion slowly. "But I have to consider all the possibilities. So, can he do that?"

"I truly don't know, Black," replied Komorov, looking troubled and worried by the idea.

"I don't believe it," interjected Sebastien firmly, shaking his head. "Arián waz one of nicest and most good-natured students in Beauxbatons-"

"That means nothing," scoffed Orion. "Tom Riddle was idolized and fawned over at Hogwarts, he was capable of charming everyone he wanted to, and look how he turned out. I'm not comparing Arian to Voldemort, of course, I'm just saying that appearances are usually deceiving."

He laughed, leaning back on his armchair. "And Arian is very sneaky. Merlin, and I believed that he had no ulterior motives when he said that he wanted me to kill the old goat! Oh, I don't doubt that Arian wants me to become the VA, and that he hates Dumbledore's guts. But he could easily kill the old man himself, so why doesn't he? And if he can absorb light magic which is like his own, then he has even more reason to kill Dumbledore personally! So, again, why doesn't he, eh?"

Neither of the older wizards said a word, they were both staring at him with a puzzled or bewildered expression on their faces.

Orion snickered, and shot them a wide smirk. "I'll tell you why; because he cannot! Because Dumbledore blood-adopted him, to rightfully make Arian a Dumbledore, and thus, the old man's 'successor'. And to make Arian a bit more powerful and at the same time, control him!"

His smirk widened, and he nonchalantly crossed one leg over the other, cozily burrowing into his armchair. "As you surely know, there are a wide variety of blood rituals that can be used to adopt children, and some of them bind the 'adoptive parent' and the 'adopted child' under certain rules. I don't think that Dumbledore chose a ritual which was too restrictive, or Arian would have refused. And the old man is many things but an idiot. He sure as hell made sure that Arian couldn't turn on him, that Arian could not hurt him in any way. That's the type of ritual they must have used. Arian gained a surname he rightfully coveted and he gained power when Dumbledore gave him his blood during the magical ritual. On the other hand, Dumbledore gained a successor and more control over Arian, assuring himself that it wouldn't fire back. That's why Arian told me that he wants me to kill Dumbledore. It wasn't only because he wants me to have the Elder Wand - it's because he cannot kill the old goat himself!"

Orion chuckled under his breath. "Sneaky, tricky Arian. By Circe that I'm starting to like him! Pity that he's a light wizard and unmistakably my greatest enemy. Don't you see? Arian wants me to do the dirty job for him. Well, not a chance! At least not if Arian is present, because if he has the ability to absorb Dumbledore's light magic, then if he isn't there when I kill the old coot, the magic won't go to him!"

"Aren't you assuming too many things, Black?" interjected Komorov, frowning pensively.

"No, I'm not," said Orion shortly, smirking at him. "Everything fits, and I'm seldom wrong when it comes to unraveling and making sense of stuff." His lips quirked wryly. "After all, I've had loads of experience in that, given all the things that the Spirits have kept a secret from me, and which I have discovered on my own, thankfully. Which, by the way, leads me to my next question. Oh, I'm not going to ask you about Arian, I know more than you do!"

He leveled the young Headmaster with a hard, fierce gaze, and demanded sharply, "Did you know that Gellert was my grandfather?"

Next to him, Sebastien drew in a shocked intake of breath, but Orion completely ignored him since he had already realized that the French wizard hadn't had a clue about it. Knowing Sebastien, he would have told him immediately, since the wizard had already proven on several occasions to truly care about him, and not only because he was a VA candidate.

Komorov solemnly gazed at him. "I have known for some months, when I became the leader of the Aux-"

"You had no right to keep it a secret from me, Roman!" spat Orion enraged, his hands trembling and balling into fists by his sides. "He was my grandfather! He was the only family I had left with the exception of my father, who I only have because I did the impossible to bring him back! What gave you the right-"

"You wouldn't have killed him if you had known," interrupted Komorov sharply, piercing him with a hard gaze.

Orion bristled, and snarled furiously, "It was my prerogative, my decision to make-"

"Vulcan knew as well," said Komorov placidly, shooting him a smirk.

All color drained from Orion's face, a twist of hurt betrayal piercing his chest, and he whispered, "Vagnarov knew?"

"Yes, he did," said Komorov coolly. "So, you see, both of us thought that it was for the best if you didn't know." He pointedly trailed his gaze over Orion. "You killed him, and thus became more powerful, as you had to. Look at your magical aura now! And Grindelwald himself wanted it to happen, Black-"

"That's not a fucking justification – that's no excuse!" spat Orion heatedly. "And I want to know how it's possible. Oh, I have my bloody suspicions, but I want confirmation! Above all, how it was done, since Gellert had been imprisoned for decades in Nurmengard-"

He broke off, his eyes widening as a realization struck him like a lightning bolt, and he gasped out, "Emmerich…"

Orion jumped to his feet, angrily pounding a fist on the desk. "Dietrich Emmerich!"

And he hurtled out of the office, ignoring Sebastien's calls, not wanting to waste another second with them since Komorov knew nothing compared to the Spirits. He rushed down the stairs and into one of Durmstrang's corridors, swiftly casting a parsel-invisibility spell on himself as he made a mad dash towards the secret entrance to the Catacombs.


	27. Thrice blooded & the state of affairs

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 27**

Orion hadn't even paused when he saw a new stone coffin -which undoubtedly contained Vagnarov's ashes- in one of the niches along the walls of the sinewy corridors of Durmstrang's Catacombs. Loudly panting, physically tired and increasingly ill, he stumbled his way through as fast as his wobbly legs allowed him to, until he casted a cushioning charm on himself and jumped into the opening which led to the Crypt.

With an echoing splash, Orion's feet landed on the liquid-covered stone floors, and his gaze immediately zeroed in on the ice-like pillars before him. Shimmering in a pale blue light, like a glacier sprouting from the stone floors, the Spirits' bodies were contained in two pillars. Floating in the midst of glowing, swirling liquid, dark magic humming around them, their bodies aged and wrinkled beyond recognition, yet still 'alive' by magical means, in order to anchor the Spirits to the mortal plane.

Suddenly, he felt a headache, a strange, relentless pounding in his head… but, it wasn't strange at all. Orion groaned and gently massaged his aching temples. It was Voldemort, who had undoubtedly opened their connection from his end, and was pushing through it; surely wanting him to lower his Occlumency shields a bit so that they could communicate. Well, not bloody likely. At least not at present. Indeed, even his scar was starting to prickle painfully – Voldemort was getting impatient. But he simply made sure that his mind shields were fully raised, as always.

And as he reached the ice-like pillars, Orion's hand twitched and he swiftly aimed his wand at it.

"Have you come here to dispose of us?" said a jeering voice, snorting. "Now that you've become more powerful after killing Grindelwald, you think you don't need us anymore?"

Not at all startled, Orion slowly turned around to eye Mordred, who was floating a few feet away from him, a nastily satisfied expression spreading on his ethereal face as the spirit's gaze roved over him. In the next second, Morgana shimmered into existence before him, and she silently inspected him, a content glint sparkling in her ghostly eyes.

Orion gazed back at them in silence. He did not feel the way he had so often felt before, when confronting them; angered and burning to get to the bottom of a mystery. He was already quite sure that he knew what had happened and why. And he simply thought that the task of having his suspicions confirmed had to be completed before he could move a little further along the dark and winding path stretching ahead of him, the path that he and Grindelwald had set out upon together, and which he now knew he would have to journey alone.

"I don't need you for anything," he said at last, flatly. "Gellert told me what I needed to know, before I killed him." He shot them a nasty smile. "And I could easily force you to go into the spiritual plane if I destroyed your bodies. Or I could obliterate your spirits directly, by using Necromancy, and thus truly kill you. Do you think I wouldn't do it?" He let out a harsh chuckle. "I've been waiting for this moment for a very long while."

Mordred laughed, the sound coming off as vicious and snide, before he narrowed his ghostly eyes at him. "So the old man finally told you that you were his grandson, and you think you have everything figured out?" His eyes narrowed to slits, and he spat, "You know nothing! Perhaps you have your hypothesis of how it was accomplished, but you're completely ignorant regarding-"

"I know that my mother was Gellert's daughter!" bit out Orion, his fingers tightening around his wand. "Gellert told me that I had his mother's eyes, Antigone's eyes, just like my mother's. That's why he told me about his mother, so that I could piece it all together. All your manipulations have been centered around the Peverell brothers. All those crosses between bloodlines were for the sole purpose of producing someone who had in him the blood of all three of them! Cadmus' from my Black bloodline, Ignotus' through the Potter bloodline - because surely you've realized at some point that I have that blood in me, haven't you?" He narrowed his eyes at them, and added without a pause, "And Antioch's through my mum, am I right?"

"Yes," said Morgana calmly, her phantasmagorical lips stretching into a small smile. "Inadvertently, Lily ended up doing what we wanted her to do; to join her bloodline with the Potter one. In the end, your mother couldn't struggle against the compulsion mind web casted on her by Horace Slughorn. Though she was carrying the child of Sirius Black, she married James Potter, and James adopted you by means of a magical blood ritual. The latter became evident to us, not very long ago. We didn't expect that the crosses of the three bloodlines would happen so early. But, nonetheless, despite that you came before the time planned, you are, indeed, what we've been waiting for-"

"Spare me your self-congratulatory platitudes," snapped Orion angrily, still gazing at them through narrowed eyes. "I know now that I'm the result of having crossed the Peverell bloodlines through the ages, added to other powerful and important bloodlines - like Slytherin's, when Ignotus' descendants married with his, or like the Black's, when you made Cadmus marry Ursula in order to have Sextus. And all this time, my mother was Antioch's descendant, because Grindelwald's mother was as well. Antigone, the last, unknown descendant of Antioch Peverell, correct?"

Morgana's smile widened, and she gazed at him fondly while she nodded.

Orion jerkily carded his fingers through his hair, wand still aimed at them, and he chuckled harshly under his breath. "I should have realized it before now - that you wouldn't allow one of the Peverell brothers to die childless. Oh, the Tale of the Three Brothers says that Antioch was killed before he married anyone, but he surely had a bastard child with someone – you made sure of that!" He eyes glinted with fury, and he bit out snidely, "You didn't want to lose the magical power carried in the blood of your precious Peverells, did you? So through all your centuries, you've worked and manipulated minds, ensuring that bloodlines crossed as you saw fit, all to produce someone who is the direct descendant of the three of them."

He nastily grinned at them, and added sharply, "Now that I finally know this, what do I need you for?"

"Who can herald you as the Vindico Atrum, if not us?" snarled Mordred, floating forwards to be inches away from him.

Orion scoffed, and said crisply, "I can manage that on my own-"

"Who will tell you," interjected Mordred angrily, shooting him a snide glance, "how to use the Hallows in order to undergo the Vindico test?"

Leveling the spirit with a loathing gaze, Orion clenched his jaw, remaining silent.

"Put that away, my child," said Morgana quietly, pointedly glancing at his wand, "and let us tell you what you came here to discover-"

"Oh, I know how it was done!" snapped Orion heatedly, furiously gazing at her. "Grindelwald was Antioch's descendant, you didn't want to lose that bloodline so you made him have a child with some witch. He was locked up in Nurmengard, and before my Elite and I broke him out, there had only been one previous attempt – Dietrich Emmerich's! You used that wizard, probably making one of the Aux implant the idea in his mind, and he-"

"There was no need to implant anything in Emmerich's mind," cut in Mordred, a devious twist curling his lips. "The wizard was more than willing to rescue his 'Gebeiter', his beloved Lord. Surely, he didn't know that the purpose of the endeavor was not to break out Grindelwald but to slip someone inside his cell. Nevertheless, Emmerich played into our hands and he organized and led the whole thing for us."

Bristling, Orion bit out incensed, "Many dark wizards died in that attempt, Mordred. Emmerich blamed himself for failing, and because of it, he thought it was his duty to sacrifice his life when I started breaking the wards around Gellert's cell-"

"All of those who died, did it willingly, knowing beforehand the danger involved in the attempt," interjected Mordred sharply. "And the only death which was a real loss, was that of one of Grindelwald's Hauptkommandanten. He was an Aux, our spy in Grindelwald's ranks, the only one from the party who knew the real purpose behind Emmerich's attempt to break out his Lord. He was the wizard who was trusted by us, and who succeeded in executing our plans. He was the one who imperioed the woman, who cast glamours on her so that none of the others would know who she was, and he was the one who managed to temporarily disable the wards around Grindelwald's cell so that the woman could be thrown inside, and do as commanded. Once she was impregnated, he was the one who safely took her back to her home. Regrettably, he died from the wounds inflicted on him during the incursion-"

"She was under the Imperius Curse?" hissed out Orion furiously. "Then she was practically raped-"

Mordred let out a bout of loud, sniggering laughter. "Raped? The one who surely considered to have been violated was Grindelwald himself! Do you think he took pleasure in bedding a woman?" He shot him a nasty smirk. "Surely you were aware of his… 'inclinations'. Indeed, we had some trouble convincing him to do his duty. Nevertheless, Grindelwald knew that it was imperative for his bloodline to continue, and he did as he was told, in that regard."

"Fine," snapped Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. "Who was the witch then?"

"Who said anything about a 'witch'?" interjected Mordred, his smirk widening. "I said woman, not witch."

A frown spread over Orion's face, and he demanded sharply, "What do you mean? It's clear that my mother wasn't a muggleborn. She had to have been adopted by the Evans, after the woman that Grindelwald was forced to bed gave birth to her-"

"Your mother was a half-blood, yet, in many ways, still a muggleborn, given her upbringing," interrupted Morgana calmly, piercing him with her phantasmagoric, large eyes. "She was not adopted. Rose Evans, your muggle grandmother, was the one we chose to bear Grindelwald's child. She was the one who was kidnapped after leaving her work, who was imperioed, taken to Nurmengard and slipped in and out of Grindelwald's cell, whilst Emmerich and the others fought against the prison guards. Slipping someone in and out from the cell wasn't impossible, as you already know, since a portkey took you there once. Obviously, taking Grindelwald out was something the wards would never allow to happen, if there wasn't someone breaking the wards from the outside, with the same powers as Grindelwald's and with the use of a life sacrifice willingly given up out of love - what you and Emmerich respectively managed to do, and precisely what Dumbledore never thought that would be done for someone like Grindelwald. Therefore, since his task was much simpler and undoubtedly unexpected by Dumbledore when casting the wards, the Aux we sent with Emmerich's group succeeded. And Mrs. Rose Evans was obliviated and left on the stairs of the home she shared with her husband and her little daughter – the one you once called Aunt Petunia."

"I don't believe it," said Orion crisply, leveling her with a hard gaze. "Why would you choose a muggle woman to carry Grindelwald's offspring?" He frowned musingly, and added bitingly, "Rose Evans had to be more than a mere muggle. Oh, I don't doubt that she was magicless, that she mostly had muggle blood in her, since I know that one of the reasons why you wanted my mother to have James Potter's child was so that her muggle blood would weaken the light magic in the Potter line. I also see now, that since my mother also carried dark magic -through Grindelwald's and thus Antioch's line- she was also infusing the Potter line with dark blood, strengthening what it had from Ignotus'."

"You are quite right," interjected Mordred, superiorly smirking at him. "We didn't simply choose any muggle woman we came across. Mrs. Rose Evans had an ancestor, the only one with magic, who had been a powerful, dark wizard who… amused himself by bedding anything female and beautiful." He quirked an eyebrow, and added pointedly, "Doesn't it ring a bell? After all, light wizard historians love to mention that it was rumored that this wizard was an infamous womanizer, whose blood purity convictions didn't apply when choosing something as unimportant as bed partners."

"The rumors…" breathed out Orion, staring at the Spirits with wide eyes. "Light wizard historians wrote about that to discredit Salazar Slytherin! You expect me to believe that it's true? That Salazar bedded muggle women and had bastard children with them?!"

"He only bedded one muggle woman, of extraordinary beauty, who lived in a nearby muggle town," said Morgana tranquilly, wearing an expression of infinite patience. "When it came to satisfying his lust for carnal pleasure, Slytherin's high standards for his lovers only demanded beauty and a pleasing and willing disposition. His wife had already given him the pureblooded heir he needed and wanted, thus, he was free to do what he liked."

Her whitish lips stretched into an amused smile. "And, given that the witch he had always loved and coveted, Rowena Ravenclaw, wasn't remotely interested in him or any other male, he took pleasure in countless of other witches, and more importantly to the issue-at-hand, in one muggle woman-"

"What you're telling me is that my muggle grandmother came from the line of Slytherin's bastard child with the muggle woman?" murmured Orion faintly, flicking his wand to conjure an armchair, plopping down on it as he felt his knees wobbling and a rush of pain thundering throughout his body.

He slowly shook his head, groaning as the aches intensified, and he tightly wrapped an arm around his midriff, before he glanced up at them, and breathed out, "Say, for the sake of argument, that I believe it. Then you chose Rose Evans because, even though she was a muggle, she had a bit of magical blood in her…but…" He frowned, and added musingly, "Why didn't you simply choose a witch? A pureblooded one-"

"Are you daft?" interrupted Mordred sharply, staring at him with an impatient scowl on his ghostly face. "You've said it yourself, we needed someone with muggle blood, so that Grindelwald's half-blood child could be crossed with the Potter line, thus, weakening it's light magic with the injection of muggle blood, and also fortifying the dark magic that lingered in that line from Ignotus, by injecting into it the blood from Antioch's line. It was the perfect mix. Your mother was the perfect creation, and tool, for our aim to strengthen the Potter bloodline. Moreover, we didn't want anyone to suspect who she really was, that's why we left her to be brought up by those muggles, the Evans, who never discovered the truth of what had happened to Rose."

The spirit widely smirked at him. "Everyone always believed that your mother was simply a mudblood, inexplicably powerful for someone of that kind, but she unwittingly played her part to perfection. Enrolled in Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's watchful eye, becoming a Gryffindor –of all things!- thanks to how her upbringing molded her personality, and then becoming the wife of James Potter! By all accounts, she was nothing but a mudblood who had been schooled to be a nice, tolerant light witch! And in the meanwhile, nobody ever suspected who she really was. Don't you see the genius of it?"

"Dumbledore must have sensed it," interjected Orion sharply, slowly shaking his head. "How could he not? If Lily was Grindelwald's daughter, and also had some Slytherin blood in her, then her magic had to be dark! Dumbledore must have-"

"There are very few wizards who have the power to directly sense the type of magic contained inside someone's magical core," interrupted Morgana calmly, "but I agree that Albus Dumbledore could be one of them. Nevertheless, you of all people should realize what happened. Lily Evans never found out who her real father was, she was brought up as a muggle, schooled as a light witch, and thus, she never had a reason to become fully aware of the type of magic she carried - partly neutral due to her muggle blood but also partly dark. You very well know that the first years in the life of a magical child are crucial for the development of his or her magic. Your very own father never developed his dark magic as much as he could because he resented it, because he didn't want to be a dark wizard. Thus, he's much less powerful than he could have been. The same happened to Tom Riddle himself."

She floated to be in front of him, and pierced him with her eyes, as she continued pointedly, "Tom Riddle became powerful because he discovered his true Gaunt, and therefore Slytherin, ancestry. Thus, he knew he was dark and he worked hard to develop his magic. However, he never became aware of the unique, raw dark magic contained in his inner magical core. We didn't want him to. That's why it's so weak in him, that's why he never developed it, and thus, why he isn't capable of detecting or using it. Nevertheless, once you absorb it, it will thrive in you, since it would be joined with your own, highly developed raw dark magic." She waved a hand dismissively, and added quietly, "But you know this already, my child. My point is that the first step to develop one's magic, is one's awareness of it. Lily Evans never had that, and she grew up believing she was merely a muggleborn turned light witch. Indeed, it could have been your case as well."

She arched an eyebrow, and added rhetorically, "Do you think that you would have ever discovered and developed your unique dark magic if you hadn't found out that you were a Black by birth and not a Potter, and thus truly a dark wizard? And if you hadn't attended this Institute? Furthermore, do you think that Dumbledore would have allowed you to become aware of your dark magic, and develop it, if you had attended Hogwarts?"

"No, I don't think I would have. You're right," murmured Orion, sighing as he rubbed his pounding and aching forehead. "I remember how it was when I first discovered my raw dark magic. I understand what you're saying, but…" He frowned and glanced up at her. "But I believe that Dumbledore must have realized my mother's true parentage at some point. He even hinted in numerous occasions that I reminded him of Gellert. He knows that I'm Gellert's grandson, Morgana. So he must have known about my mother-"

"He does," interjected Morgana coolly. "Lily had a striking resemblance to Antigone Grindelwald, in beauty and in their features, foremost due to their eyes, though she certainly was nothing like Antigone in personality. Albus Dumbledore must have probably come upon a wizarding picture of Antigone, or some such thing. He has known for many years, I believe. Maybe he even knew during your mother's years at Hogwarts."

She shot him a large, wicked smile. "And I'm sure that he was very pleased when she proved to be a Gryffindor light witch through and through, and when she married James Potter, an upstanding light wizard in the eyes of many. Indeed, Albus Dumbledore must have felt redeemed in how Grindelwald's child turned out. And that's exactly what we wanted all along; secrecy regarding Lily Evan's true parentage, if possible, and if not, then to give no one any cause for concern or suspicion. In that, as in many other things, we succeeded."

"I see," said Orion grimly, spearing her with an incensed gaze. "And Gellert never met his daughter, did he?"

"No, he didn't," replied Morgana quietly, softly smiling at him. "But he was very satisfied with you, my child. Fond of you as well, I dare say, just like I am."

Orion grunted, before viciously amused, harsh chuckles sprung from his lips. "Then, Petunia Dursley had some bits of Slytherin's blood in her. Oh, Salazar must be rolling in his grave!" He sniggered, and added acerbically, "Though it's obvious that she had inherited some of his nastiness."

"I'm glad you're amused," sneered Mordred, ghostly arms crossed over his chest as he leveled him with a short-tempered glare. "Now that my mother gave you the answers you wanted, just-"

"Amused?" snapped Orion heatedly, glowering at him as he slowly stood up. "Do you think I'm really amused after finding out just how much you've manipulated everything that has to do with myself? I already knew how you had manipulated my mum, and now, I know that not even Gellert managed to be spared." He narrowed his eyes at him, and demanded crisply, "So everything has to do with the union of the bloodlines of the three Peverell brothers. Tell me, is that also the reason why you've always wanted me to be with Draco and have a child with him? Just how many times did you make the two Black bloodlines cross? How much of Cadmus' blood does Draco have?"

Mordred arched an eyebrow and shot him a nasty smirk. "So you finally think about that, do you? It was about time, boy. And you can surely answer that yourself."

"I can't," bit out Orion, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Not even the tapestry with the Black tree line goes as far back as that. It doesn't even have Ursula Black's and Cadmus' names on it. No pureblood family registry accounts for the crosses during those ancient times. But it's obvious to me now, that Draco has to be more than simply the Malfoy Heir from the secondary Black line. And the Blacks have a tradition of intermarrying with cousins, to purify and strengthen the bloodline. So it's pretty clear, given your interest in Draco and your insistence that we pair up, that he must carry some of Cadmus Peverell's blood, through the secondary Black line."

"True," said Morgana placidly. "He does. And that's exactly why we chose him for you, since your child with him will be powerful indeed, the result of a cross between Peverell lines, once more." She pierced him with her gaze, and added sharply, "And it has to be Draco Malfoy, and not Voldemort, my child. You know why. Voldemort, as a Gaunt, comes from Ignotus' line, but there's an element of instability in the Gaunt bloodline that must not be passed on. Furthermore, it's your duty to preserve the bloodlines in you-"

"Why should I?" interjected Orion crisply, crossing his arms over his chest. "The three Peverell bloodlines are in me, that's what you've wanted during all these centuries. So there's really no need for me to have any children, is there? I'm the… 'thing' you've always wanted to create."

"All our work cannot end with you!" snarled Mordred enraged, swiftly floating to be nose-to-nose with him, as he pierced him with a furious, narrowed gaze. "Even if you become the Vindico, at some point you'll die, and your child with Malfoy will have to take the mantle of leadership and continue your work. He or her will also have to undergo the VA test, to become the new VA once you pass away. You not only owe it to us, and to dark wizarding kind, but also to your bloodlines! Will you leave Black House without an heir? Will you leave your beloved Gellert without any descendants?! Do you think he wants that? He did his duty by having a child, however distasteful it was to him, and so will you, boy."

Orion clenched his jaw, a mutinous and angered glint sparkling in his eyes, before he dropped his arms to his sides, and said sharply, "I will have children, but it will be in my terms, with whom I choose, and because I want it, not due to any consideration to your 'plans'. And they certainly will not be involved in any of your machinations."

He shot the spirit a nasty smirk, and added mordantly, "I came here with the intention of disposing of you, after you confirmed my suspicions. But, as you said, I still need you for when I have the three Hallows, so that you can tell me what to do with them. However, I have no problem in honestly revealing to you that I'll kill you once that's done."

Mordred snidely scoffed, shooting him a superior smirk of his own, just at the same time that Morgana sighed, and said quietly, "You will not get the chance, my child. As we have told you before, our magic has been weakening bit by bit through the ages." She turned to a side, and gestured at the ice-like pillars containing their bodies. "And it will completely fade away once someone undergoes and survives the Vindico test. The power of the magical ritual we underwent will expire when the Vindico arises." She turned her face to gaze at him, and continued softly, "In that precise moment, we'll die – definitely and irreversibly."

Orion gazed at her in complete silence, and finally stiffly nodded at her, as he said curtly, "Good."

And without another word, he swiftly transformed into Firebreath, flying up and out of the Crypt, into the main corridor of the Catacombs, wanting nothing more than to muse about everything he had learned and to decide on the next steps he should take – and, above all, to rest and sleep for a long while.

* * *

A startled and frightened squeal woke up Orion from his uneasy and restless sleep, and he groaned as he slowly opened his eyes with great effort. Everything in his body ached, cold and hot waves flared and trembles surged through every fiber in him, his mind felt foggy and feverish, and he could feel his body dewed with perspiration. To make matters worse, he had had his usual nightly visions –none about Arian, thankfully, since he didn't want to see the light wizard in his current condition- and his head hadn't stopped pounding until it was late at night; undoubtedly when Voldemort temporarily gave up in order to go to sleep himself.

Without being able to lift a finger without the action hurting, he merely rolled his eyes to one side and discovered that early sunlight was filtering through the curtained windows of his bedroom at Potter Manor.

After quickly leaving the Catacombs, he had immediately flooed away from Durmstrang, without a word to Komorov and Sebastien, just completely ignoring them as he used the fireplace in the Headmaster's office. And once he had gotten back to Potter Manor, he had used the last amounts of strength in him to write two letters, before he had crawled into his bed.

One letter was addressed to Loki Njord, hoping that the owl he had used would find its way to the Cross of Planes and the Guild, amidst what the muggles called the Bermuda Triangle. He had one favor to ask of his former schoolmate, and he hoped that the young Necromancer would drop by soon, since he had written the precise coordinates of Potter Manor and had also adjusted the wards so that Loki could pop directly into his bedroom.

The second letter was addressed to Rita Skeeter, finally putting into action a plan that had been on his mind for a long while – that to discredit Albus Dumbledore. Since even though everyone thought that the wizard had been killed by him, there was no doubt that the old goat would publicly reappear at some point, as Snape suspected.

The missive had been short, to the point, and obviously unsigned:

'_You'll discover that there're many juicy secrets in the late Albus Dumbledore's past. If you're interested in writing an article –or, why not, perhaps write a book, dear Rita? – which will cause much controversy, and thus make you famous, then I suggest you talk to Bathilda Bagshot. She'll be able to tell you, if properly motivated, about some of the skeletons in Dumbledore's closet. I'm sure it will satisfy your unique journalistic quest for the truth.'_

And with that, he was sure that in a few weeks, the witch would splatter Albus' and Gellert's past relationship all over the wizarding newspapers. The final step would be to point her to the right direction so that Albus' Treatise could be dug out and widely made public, with all of the man's conclusions regarding crosses between light, dark and muggle blood – exactly the same as Slytherin's. But, for now, this first step was enough to unsettle light wizards and to weaken the old coot's base of worshippers and followers for when the old man decided to pop up in the open.

Abruptly, another squeak reached his ears, and Orion groaned as he rolled to a side, to eye its source. One of his eyebrows quirked upwards when his gaze landed on a very disheveled and scorched Dobby, and then he frowned when he realized the cause for the house-elf's anxious squeals.

Frowning, Orion gazed down at himself, seeing his dark magical aura flaring outwards, jerkily and unsteadily, though it was thicker and denser than he remembered. Furthermore, one of its tendrils had undoubtedly lashed out at the poor creature. He sighed and grumbled under his breath, since he knew that there wasn't much that he could do at present. He knew that he was losing control of his magic due to his weakened state caused by the potion-withdrawal symptoms, and also because he hadn't had much time to work in completely controlling his powers, which had been augmented after taking in Grindelwald's dark magic.

With another slow sigh, Orion's gaze flickered back to the house-elf, and his other eyebrow arched when he finally discerned that Dobby was also covered in boils, pus-oozing sores and nasty burns, with a fetid odor coming off him.

"What's happened to you?" slurred out Orion, grimacing in pain as he slowly managed to sit up against his bed's headboard.

"Dobby did as Master Orion asked, sir," said Dobby, wincing as he stretched out a hand grasping a stack of letters and papers. "I is to Black Manor, opened howlers and other nasty packages-"

"And you got the full brunt of what was meant for me," interjected Orion slowly, eyeing him with a hint of concern. "I see. Well, you can go to Daisy before coming here. In the future, first make sure that she heals you, Dobby. There's no need for you to suffer because of me."

"Thank you, sir!" blubbered out Dobby, gazing at him with grateful, watery eyes. "Master is good and generous-"

"Yes, yes," interrupted Orion impatiently. "Leave the letters on the nightstand and go to Daisy, Dobby." He shot him a warm smile, and added more softly, "Thanks, and do take care."

Dobby flashed him with a beaming smile, and was gone with an eager snap of his fingers. It didn't escape Orion's notice the blush that had spread on the house-elf's greenish cheeks when he had mentioned Daisy. There was no doubt in his mind that Daisy wouldn't be thanking him for having sent her love-struck admirer to her. Well, now he rather liked the idea of the two of them together, so he simply smirked unrepentantly as he slowly stretched his hand towards the stack that the house-elf had left on his nightstand.

Abruptly, as he snatched the letters and papers against his chest, he hissed under his breath when he felt a pounding hammering in his skull. Voldemort was up and about, and once again relentlessly pushing through their link. With a stubborn grimace on his face, he strengthened the Occlumency shields around his mind, forcefully slamming them up and hoping that it would send a piercing stab of pain through the connection. He was starting to get fed up. They had much to discuss, and he indeed wanted to see the wizard, but certainly not at present, given his current, weak condition.

Darkly cursing the wizard under his breath, Orion slowly started to open the letters that Dobby had deemed 'safe'.

About thirty minutes later, whilst deeply musing, he settled them once again on top of the nightstand, seconds before a tray popped into existence, carrying what unmistakably was supposed to be his breakfast. He eyed the bowl containing some type of steamy broth with a distasteful grimace on his face, the smell of it alone causing a sickly twist to churn in his stomach.

Orion utterly ignored it and went for the large glass of cold water, gulping down half of it with a sigh of contentment, since his throat had been dry and he had indeed been parched and thirsty. He unceremoniously emptied the rest of it on top of his head, sighing as the cold water seemed to cool his feverish and hot forehead, rubbing his hands on his temples and through his drenched hair.

Then he proceeded to slowly nibble on a loaf of bread –despite that even his gums seemed to ache- while he burrowed into his bed, and mused about what he had read. Two letters addressed to him, in particular, seemed vital and very telling. One was from Blaise Zabini and the other from Pansy Parkinson, both asking what he knew about what had happened to Draco, though their inquiring manners were as dissimilar as could be.

He had always liked Blaise, and he knew that the young wizard was very close to Draco in private. And he suspected that both of them had indulged in something more than mere friendship, though without any serious intentions, knowing them. In the letter, Blaise's manner was subtle, secretive and undemanding, simply stating that he believed that Draco was in his company and that he would like to be assured that his friend was well. Also, in Blaise's sly and subtle ways, the young wizard insinuated that even though he was remaining neutral in the war, like his mother, he was willing to help Draco as much as he could.

Pansy, on the other hand, angrily demanded to know where Draco was, while straightforwardly accusing him of being the sole culprit regarding her future fiancé's current predicaments. In her letter, she was as harpy-ish towards him as ever, but her worry concerning Draco was heart-felt, he knew that. And given that she hadn't detected the blotch of a tear on the letter before sending it, she must have been in quite an anxious and frantic state of mind when writing the missive.

In the end, he decided to only reply back to Blaise, with the short sentences: 'He's as well as I could manage. I'll tell him to contact you when he can.' He had absolutely no doubt that Blaise wouldn't breathe a word to anyone, but Pansy was another matter entirely.

It hadn't escaped his notice that Draco's best friends in public, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, hadn't written to him. It could only mean one thing; many in Slytherin House were turning their backs on Draco after Voldemort had issued the order to hunt him down. And the lack of their letters, also meant that Crabbe and Goyle already had the Dark Mark or that they would very soon become Death Eaters. That was also why he wouldn't reply to Pansy, because even though she truly cared for Draco, she was the daughter of a Death Eater and would soon have to decide if she would take the Dark Mark, and he was almost certain that she would.

What were even more interesting were the articles in the Daily Prophet. None of them said anything about Grindelwald's statue; obviously it hadn't been found yet. Though he was sure that it would be and the news would be splattered in every single wizarding newspaper, tomorrow or the day after. What had captured his attention the most was the front page of the Daily Prophet, with an article telling about a funerary ceremony which had taken place at Hogwarts, for Albus Dumbledore. A large white tomb had been placed at Hogwarts' grounds, to contain Dumbledore's body when it was found and retrieved by a small group of Aurors who had that duty.

Of course, he knew that the latter was pure rubbish, since he was fairly certain that Dumbledore had contacted Scrimgeour at some point, and thus, that the Minister was aware of the truth. Nevertheless, the charade was on, and he had closely inspected the moving picture which accompanied the article, which showed who had attended the 'funeral'.

He had recognized the members of the Order: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the twins, and Bill Weasley, scarred in the face but not disfigured, with Fleur Delacour by his side, and with Sirius on his other side. It hadn't escaped his notice that, in the picture, Moody's magical roving eye landed on his father quite frequently.

There had also been Percy Weasley, accompanying Minister Scrimgeour, who looked stern and grave. Even Fudge had been there, looking slightly gaunt and miserable. Among that party was one he recognized as Dolores Umbridge, since Draco had told him so much about her. And he had wondered about her presence among the Ministerial group, since he knew that she had done a terrible job when she had been Hogwarts' DADA teacher, and he was quite sure that the witch had been in Lucius Malfoy's wealthy pocket.

Another one he had recognized was Madame Maxime, right next to McGonagall, which the article had revealed to be the new Headmistress – though it was hardly surprising, and the old witch had to be the new Order leader as well. It was Madame Maxime's presence which spoke volumes; the French were certainly Dumbledore's most important allies.

And among the throng of professors, he had discerned the centaur Firenze, while the heads of merpeople could be seen by the edge of the lake. What was most telling, in his opinion, was the lack of any other centaur by the border of the Forbidden Forest. It was clear that they knew that Dumbledore was still alive; with their unique abilities, they had possibly read it in the stars. And he wondered that no light wizard had taken notice of their absence. Though, admittedly, most light wizards didn't think too greatly of centaurs. Regarding creatures, many light wizards were as prejudiced as dark wizards were on matters of blood purity.

Other articles completed the panorama for him. He, Snape and Draco -in that order- were now at the top of the Aurors' Most Wanted list, along with the usuals, such as Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.

On another note, there was currently a heated debate of whether Hogwarts should open its doors for the next school year. Many said that it wasn't safe for students, now that the school didn't count with Dumbledore's protection, and many parents had already hurried away their children, a day before the funerary ceremony was held, and with obvious intentions of keeping their children to be educated at home. On the other hand, McGonagall was trying her best so that the school would remain open, and the matter was now in the hands of the Board of Directors and the Ministry.

Furthermore, the Ministry had launched a one-month training program for light wizards who wanted to fight, with the possibility of becoming prestigious Aurors later on. Orion had to admit that it was a smart move on Scrimgeour's part; a way of inflating the Ministry soldiering ranks by tantalizingly promising the title of Auror to those wizards who would have never, otherwise, passed the examinations to be trained as such.

Moreover, from what he read, he could see that the Order wasn't that much of a secret society anymore. They weren't openly recruiting like the Ministry was, but there were tidbits of information pointing towards Moody, for anyone who was interested in joining the group.

Those were the most important pieces of news he had found, the rest of the articles merely talked about him, his darkness, evilness, and traitorous ways. His father was also widely discussed, and he had found out that Sirius had indeed been interrogated by Aurors with the use of Veritaserum and had come out of it smelling like roses, just as he knew that would happen, given the mind web he had casted on him. And the fact that Sirius Black had passed the interrogation with flying colors, had certainly been the main force behind the light wizarding community's current opinions regarding his father.

The general consensus was the Sirius Black was a martyr of his circumstances: a dark wizard turned light due to his undying love for Lily Evans, who was still held as some sort of saintly victim, much to Orion's satisfaction; a redeemed man, despite his dark family, who had once been an Auror and member of the Order, who was the best friend of another victim and hero, James Potter; a man who was unfairly carted off to Azkaban without a trial, since it was widely known by now that Sirius hadn't betrayed the Potters but that Pettigrew had; a man who had escaped to find the son he had known nothing about, only then to lose everything again when unrightfully sent to Azkaban once more, suffering a Dementor's Kiss; a poor wizard whose son had managed to bring back to life by using dark and evil Necromantic abilities, and who then, after being resurrected against his will by evils means, went back to the Light just to lose his traitorous son to Voldemort and Darkness once more; in the end, a wizard who had suffered numerous injustices during his life, whose own son had betrayed him, and who was doing everything possible to bring his son to justice and to the Light.

In short, the light wizarding community regarded Sirius Black as a martyr, a victim of his own son, a man who despite his evil roots had turned to the Light. An article even said that the Witch Weekly magazine had priced Sirius with the Most Charming Smile Award of the year, along with ranking him as the number one in the Most Handsome Wizard category. And it was clear to Orion that light wizarding kind was currently adoring the whole romanticized and heroic light in which they were now portraying his father. Though he knew very well how fickle their opinions were. Nevertheless, at present, Sirius was a hero, and it suited his plans perfectly.

Orion fiercely rubbed his increasingly aching and pounding forehead, and muffled his groan of pain as he sunk his face into his plush pillow. He curled under his bed sheets, arms tightly wrapped around himself, while his mind slowly spun with countless, feverish thoughts.

Grindelwald's voice seemed to relentlessly echo in his skull, like had happened during the night. The old man's last, gurgled out words –'Make me proud!'- reverberated constantly in his mind. Memories of the wizard, images and sounds, unveiled and dizzily sprung forth, accompanied by a painful twist of sorrow and grief which pierced his chest. But unwilling to go down that somber tunnel, Orion forced his mind to think of pertinent matters, to think with a cool-head and collectedness.

The point was that Grindelwald -the grandfather he never had the time to intimately know, since they had always been more worried about training- was gone. Though he had moments when the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm him, there were blank stretches of numbness as well, when he felt absolutely nothing.

Moreover, he couldn't stop thinking about Grindelwald's strange suspicion. Was it possible that the old man was right? When he had been ten years old, had he acted unnaturally mature for a boy his age?

He remembered that he had wanted to know as much of the Dark as he could, that he persuaded his father to allow him to read the Dark Arts tomes at Grimmauld's Place's library, that he emphatically defended the views of the Dark's side, and that Voldemort had been, admittedly, an obsession of his. But how could he know if that was strange?

Only by comparing it with the behavior of others at that age, he supposed. He had met Draco, Calypso and the others when they were ten years old as well, and some of them had discussed matters of Dark vs. Light, they had their solid ideas… but, admittedly, they had expressed the views of their parents. He didn't think that any of them, at that age, had been reading tomes and tomes of books to form a judgment and opinion of their own. But he had.

On the other hand, it was understandable since he had been new to the whole wizarding world, so of course that he had been thirsty for more information… But again, if someone had been influencing him, then he was the last person who would realize it. After all, he knew that when he casted a compulsion mind web on someone, that person would never be aware that his actions were being influenced by a spell…

Orion frowned in pensiveness, as he rubbed his aching forehead against his pillow. And Grindelwald suspected that he had been influenced after leaving the Dursleys, so perhaps he could discover if his behavior had significantly changed by comparing his attitude before and after he escaped from his muggle relatives... Had that hunger for knowledge and learning had been a constant in his life, even back then when he had lived with the Dursleys?

He remembered that he had liked to read; fantasy books particularly, and science books as well, since what could be accomplished with 'science' had always seemed like something magical to him. And he remembered that it had all started when he had made a habit of hiding in his muggle school's library, where Dudley and his chums would never enter. And he did moderately well in his classes, always taking particular care of not outmatching Dudley in tests.

But he had to admit that he hadn't been singularly studious back then. He had not been a Calypso Rosier, that's for sure. That phase in his life, when he had committed himself to be one of the best students, had started at Durmstrang. Unlike Hogwarts - were only Ravenclaws had the pressure to be academically outstanding, and Slytherins because many demanded it from themselves- at Durmstrang it didn't matter in what Order one was sorted, everyone was expected to do his best, and academic competition was fierce.

But, perhaps, Grindelwald was right. Maybe that hunger for knowledge had started when he had discovered he was a Black. And maybe it was due to that strange maturity and conviction in the Dark which Grindelwald believed to be unnatural in a ten year old. So, perhaps, there was indeed more to it. Nevertheless, he decided to leave it at that, hoping that someday he would discover something that would shed some light on the matter, since he was utterly clueless at present.

And there was another issue which now sprung forth in his feverish mind: the Peverells. He believed what the Spirits had told him, he was certain they had been honest in that regard. Therefore, he was thrice a Peverell, what the Spirits had always wanted and what they had been waiting for. But why were they so obsessed with the Peverells? What was so extraordinary about them that the Spirits had focused all their efforts in crossing and molding those three bloodlines as they saw fit? Why such obsession to make the three bloodlines as powerful as could be? Surely, the Peverell brothers had to have been astoundingly powerful and highly versed in the Dark Arts, since they had managed to produce the Hallows from the scarce instructions that the Spirits had given them.

However, something niggled in the back of his mind, telling him with certainty that there had to be more to it. The Spirits always had deeper and obscurer motives for everything they did, and they certainly never told him outright...

Orion's mind foggily trailed off the thought, much against his will, and looped back dizzily to his first thoughts… Grindelwald… Now, without Grindelwald by his side, he felt as if he had entered a new era in his life. Indeed, he could classify the time periods in his life with 'before Grindelwald' and 'after Grindelwald', since the German wizard had left such an indelible mark in his life. He thought the same applied to locket-Tom and to being Voldemort's spouse; the latter would be something like 'before a catastrophic marriage' and 'after stupidly spouting an I love you'.

Orion grimaced, groaned, let out a whine of exasperation with himself, and rolled restlessly in his bed, praying to whatever forces in the world that he wouldn't be like this during the whole bloody week. He didn't know if he could survive it with his sanity intact, if his mind kept leaping from one thought to the other without any considerations to what he actually wanted to focus on. And the painful aches were getting worse, and he could see his dark magical aura becoming even more uncontrolled, though it didn't look as if it would do any damage to his surroundings or others. It simply looked as restless as he felt, and it was certainly becoming denser and more visible. He wondered if after the ordeal was over, he would have to walk around looking as if he was smudged by blackness all over. He would definitely need to learn how to tug in his magical aura; he wouldn't strut around like a peacock showing off his feathers of powerful dark magic. That would only happen when it served a bloody purpose!

Abruptly, a cold chilliness seemed to spread throughout the room, seconds before a monotonous voice drone out, "Aren't you a sight to behold, Black. You look like a weak, baby pixie, groaning, whimpering and nestled under bundles of bed sheets. What's wrong with you?"

"Many things," said Orion wryly, slowly rolling on his bed to face the young Necromancer, shooting him a wan smile. "Long time no see, Njord. How are you?"

"Peachy," said Loki flatly, his all-black eyes inspecting him from under his cloak's hood.

Orion, in return, trailed his heavy-lidded gaze over him, noticing that the young wizard hadn't changed much since their last encounter. Loki was exuding an eerie aura, his eyes all-black, his movements fluid, his long black cloak covering every inch of his skin, he looked much thinner than Orion remembered him to be, with dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't had a natural sleep in ages, and his skin was almost translucently pale, certainly haven't been touched by sunlight in a very long while. And Orion also caught sight of the black symbol in the young wizard's left palm; an all-black eye inscribed in a triangle – the mark of a full-fledged Necromancer, what Loki had become a long while ago, after leaving Durmstrang without completing his studies.

"It's about bloody time," said Orion, slowly enunciating his words with some difficulty. "I've been waiting for you to pop up during the whole morning. I thought my owl would find you hours ago-"

"Not the case, We found it," interrupted Loki blandly, his voice much raspier and hoarser than Orion remembered from their last encounter, undoubtedly due to disuse. "The wards around the Cross of Planes detected a disoriented bird fluttering insistently around the area, and one of Us finally decided to check it out. I got your letter, though. What do you want? Have you finally decided to undergo the Necromantic training? The Argonaut will be glad to hear it, he isn't a patient man."

"No," interjected Orion, swallowing a groan of pain as he sat up against the headboard. "Not ready for that yet. I asked you to come here to ask a favor from you… Well, two favors, actually."

Loki stared at him, his face expressionless and blank, as he said tonelessly, "Why would I do you any favors, Black-"

"Let me finish," interrupted Orion shortly, "before you start voicing your refusals and complaints."

"Then get on with it, Black," said Loki detachedly, glancing around with a distasteful twist of his lips. "I don't want to stay in the mortal plane for too long - ghastly and uninteresting, if you ask me."

Orion grunted, and asked crisply, "Is the Guild still summoning Morgana?" When Loki curtly nodded, he continued, "Then you must be up-to-date with current affairs. You must know that England is going to have a war and I need to… fix matters with Voldemort as much as I can, even if the solution is only temporary. That's the reason for one of the favors I'll ask from you. The Guild currently has the Gaunt ring, and I don't really need it until I also have the Elder Wand, so if you want to study it for a bit longer, then I need a replica of it, so that I can give it to Voldemort, who has been demanding the ring for a while."

"A replica?" repeated Loki unemotionally, slowly arching an eyebrow.

"Yes," said Orion, nodding at him. "I would do it myself if I could, but given my present conditions… Well, I'm not strong enough to go traipsing around muggle London. That's where I want you to go, once you fetch the ring from the Guild." He pointed at the lower drawer of his nightstand. "In there, you'll find my money pouch, which is directly linked with the main Black vault in Gringotts. Convert all the galleons you want into muggle pounds in any Gringotts branch, and spend whatever is needed so that the best muggle jeweler in London creates an exact copy of the Gaunt ring, with the inscription of the Peverell crest included in the gem. I'm sure they can manage that, and quickly too, if properly motivated by money. Spend whatever is needed, money is of no concern."

"I don't like to go into the wizarding world anymore, and the muggle one even less," interjected Loki flatly, his pale face revealing a slight hint of his repulsion at the idea. "And I don't see why I should do this. Ask some of your friends-"

"I can't, not for this," pressed on Orion sharply. "And the Guild wants to keep studying the Resurrection Stone, don't they? If you don't help me with this, then I'll have to take the ring now, and none of you want that. I think it's only fair that one of you did this small favor, which also benefits you. When I give the replica to Voldemort, he'll obviously find no magic in it; precisely what I want, and just what he would expect if the ring was nothing more than a Gaunt heirloom."

Seeing Loki's blank expression, he explained further with a bit of impatience, "When he was Tom Riddle he never detected any magic in it before turning it into a horcrux, and he simply thought that the symbol in the gem was the Peverell coat of arms, nothing else, certainly not the representation of the Hallows. And Voldemort doesn't know about them yet, only about the Elder Wand, but he hasn't linked it to the Tale of the Three Brothers. And maybe he won't for a while, since a wizard like him would pay no mind to stories for children. So the solution is perfect, as long as the muggle jeweler does his job impeccably." He gazed at him expectantly, and asked quietly, "Will you do it?"

A distant expression spread on Loki's face, his glowing, all-black eyes looking as if they were becoming unfocused, as if he was listening to voices far away. Or, as Orion very well knew, to voices in his mind; the Guild-mind, as Loki had once called it, meaning that the young Necromancer had a direct connection with the minds of all other Guild Necromancers, and the young wizard was certainly discussing the matter with them.

"We will do it," said Loki at last, his hoarse voice sounding as if it was coming from the furthest recesses of some dark corner.

And without another word, the young Necromancer swiftly opened the nightstand's drawer, pulling out and pocketing the money-pouch in his black cloak, in one fluid movement.

"What's the other favor you want to ask of Us?"

"Well, I rather say the second favor benefits you more than it does me," said Orion slowly, trying his best so that his words wouldn't come out sluggish and slurred. He stretched out a hand, tearing a small piece of parchment from one of the papers on his nightstand, as well as grasping a quill, before he jotted down the address, as he continued, "I have a friend who has some Necromantic abilities. And since I don't know if Hogwarts will be opening for the next school year, it would be best if you visited her now. Without her father finding out, mind you. Her name is Luna Lovegood."

He handed the piece of parchment to Loki, and added pointedly, "I've told her the little I could about the Guild, given that I can't say much after the magical contract I signed with your lot. But I want her to see the Guild and know what she would be getting into if she accepted to be trained by you. And also, given that she's in her summer holidays, she could invent some excuse to disappear for a few hours, during which you could take her to the Guild to be tested as well, to see if she has enough Necromantic abilities. If you accept her, it would still be her choice, but I ask you that you don't admit her if Hogwarts remains open. I know how much you price and need new Necromancers, but if you deem she's good enough, then wait until she graduates from school. Is that acceptable?"

"It is," said Loki tonelessly, "and We thank you for notifying us about a witch with Necromantic abilities. We're always glad to accept more of our kind in our fold, to bestow upon them the learning their Necromantic abilities entitle them to."

Orion eyed him with satisfaction, and finally shot him a small smile, as he said slowly, "Thanks, Njord. And when you have the replica of the ring, please send it, and the pouch, by owl. I'm sure it will be done in a few days."

The distant expression partly cleared off from Loki's face, and he said unemotionally, "Very well. I guess I won't see you in a while, then. Next time you ask me to come, make sure that it's because you're ready to undergo the training with The Argonaut. He's expecting it and The Argonaut will not wait forever, Black."

"Alright," said Orion, wanly smiling at him. "I'll write to you again when I'm ready for that."

Loki curtly nodded at him, and with a swirl of his black cloak, he disappeared from the room, as silently as he had come, like a spectre vanishing into thin air.

* * *

About an hour later, Orion was still muffling groans of pain into his pillow, since Voldemort's attempts had reached a new height of insistent and unmercifully painful stabs through their connection. Not only did his skull seem about to split open, but his scar incessantly prickled with sharps bouts of pain; the wizard was certainly becoming more furious by the minute.

At last, as another wave of trembling aches spread throughout his body, one of the potion-withdrawal symptoms, Orion finally decided he had had enough.

He lowered his Occlumency shields a bit, and roared angrily in his mind, 'What the bloody hell do you want? I'm trying to rest, Tom!'

'_You dare ignore me since last night?_' hissed an enraged voice into his mind, the pain in his scar spiking and flaring out. _'I've been summoning you through your Black Heir ring-'_

'I'm not wearing that anymore,' spat Orion impatiently, 'and you know perfectly well why.'

'_I demand to know where you are and what you've been doing!'_ snarled the hissing voice. _'I've been feeling your pain since yesterday, most particularly during the late evening, and I want to know precisely why. And you will come to me at once and explain.'_

'I'm not going anywhere,' groused out Orion sharply. 'I'm resting and I don't intend to move a muscle-'

'_Resting, why? And where?! I know you are not in Black Manor, boy-'_

'Don't you 'boy' me,' interrupted Orion incensed. 'And where I am is my own business, Tom. I'll see you when I feel better-'

'_Don't you 'Tom' me, either,'_ hissed Voldemort's furious voice, _'we're long past that stage, Orion. You're not my spouse anymore, and I will allow you no such lax and informal manners. So watch your tone and learn to address me respectfully, before I have to teach it to you by force. Now, answer my questions before I decide to use Legilimency on you-'_

'From a distance?' snorted Orion acerbically. 'Try it and you know what will happen. I will counterattack with the same, we'll end up in pain and in a stalemate, as always.'

A harsh laughter reverberated through his mind, and Voldemort's hissing voice said viciously, _'You don't feel as if you're very strong, Orion. Indeed, even your mind shields feel weak. I'm giving you three options: you answer my questions now; I rip them from you through Legilimency, and I'll make sure it's as painful to you as possible; or I give you the chance to come to me and explain in person.'_

Orion frowned angrily as he burrowed into his bed, knowing that he hadn't much of a choice. He doubted if he could fight off Voldemort's Legilimency attack through their connection. In person, he could easily defend himself with his dark magic. On the other hand, he didn't want to meet him so soon, and much less in his state. He had expected to be recovered from his week of torture before facing Voldemort again, and before explaining some matters to him. But, perhaps this was for the best. Grindelwald's statue would soon be discovered, and it was better if he told Voldemort about that before the wizard found out by reading the newspapers.

'Fine,' he said bitterly. 'I'll see you.'

'_Good,'_ hissed Voldemort with satisfaction. _'I expect you in a few seconds. Use your Black Heir ring-'_

'Not a chance,' scoffed Orion rebelliously. 'Through it, you can control when I portkey and you can also sense other things, like when I'm with someone intimately, or you think I have forgotten about that? No, I will never wear my ring again if there's an alternative. Tell me where you are-'

'_That would take too long,'_ hissed Voldemort with angered impatience. _'Lower your shields further down and let me see where you are through your eyes, and I'll come and get you.'_

Orion made sure to send him his snide chuckles, and he bit out mordantly, 'How stupid do you think I am? Think of something else.'

Piercing pain stabbed his scar, before Voldemort's hissing voice spat enragedly, _'Then apparate to the alley of the Leaky Cauldron, and I'll fetch you there.'_

'Alright,' said Orion tartly. 'I'll be there in an hour.'

'_You'll be there right this minute!'_

'I said in a bloody hour!' snapped Orion heatedly, before he slammed up his Occlumency shields, breaking off all further communications between them, and slowly rising from his bed.

He stumbled on his steps towards his bathroom when another wave of pain flashed from his scar. Cursing Voldemort under his breath, he weakly made his way to the tub. He would, at least, take a bath and be somewhat presentable when meeting the odious man.

About forty-five minutes later, he was inspecting himself on the full-body, gilded mirror of his bedroom. And he had to admit that he looked awful, even in one of his most rich and elegant dark blue robes. His face was pale, dark circles were already forming under his blood-shot eyes, his wet hair was spiked messily in every direction since he didn't feel as if he could exert himself to use a comb -the whole dressing part had already tired him greatly- and he even thought that he looked a bit gaunt and sickly thin.

The lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead was red, and seemed to pop out from the pale whiteness of his face. And through the parted lapels of his shirt, he could see part of the scar from which he had removed the glamour spell. There was no point now of covering up the traces of the almost-lethal injury caused by the Manticore's poisonous dart, during the break into Nurmengard.

Orion was deeply unsatisfied with his appearance, since it was one more proof of just how weak he felt, and he certainly didn't want to see Voldemort looking as such. Nevertheless, he had decided that it was best to get through with it once and for all, to be able to get back into his bed as soon as possible.

He tucked his two wands in the respective wand-holsters strapped on his forearms, and finally rolled down his sleeves and wrapped himself in a hooded cloak, before he left his room as quickly as his legs could carry him. On his way out of the Manor, he utterly ignored Daisy's reproving demand, "Where is Master Potter think he going, in his condition, sir!" And once he was in the middle of the rolling, green hills of the area, he scrunched his eyes shut, and used every ounce of dizzied concentration he could muster to apparate away.

He let out a pant of exhausted breath when his feet touched solid ground again, and he slowly opened his eyes as he steadied his wobbly knees by slapping a hand on the dilapidated stone walls of the seedy London alley. The entrance to the Leaky Cauldron was a few feet away from him, but he hardly paid any attention to it. His gaze fixed upon Voldemort, who had evidently been waiting for him.

The wizard was draped in a long, black cloak as well, his face partly concealed under the hood, but there was no mistaking those crimson eyes which narrowed as they inspected him. There was no mistaking, either, the insanely furious and murdering glint which now sparkled in them, and Orion automatically tensed when the wizard took a step forward.

"_What have you done to yourself?"_ hissed Voldemort in a low, enraged voice.

Orion didn't have a chance to bat an eyelash when Voldemort swiftly leapt at him, painfully wrapping his arms around him as the wizard pulled them into an apparition. The last thing Orion saw was a wizard stumbling out from the Leaky Cauldron, and freezing in abject horror and fear as his gaze landed on them, the wizard's pipe falling from his gaping mouth.

And as Orion felt his body being uncomfortably squeezed, he dearly started to regret his decision. He had a very bad feeling about how things would end up between Voldemort and him, during this meeting.


	28. Truths within lies & connections

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Well, I finally updated. Phew, it took me ages and I'm demolished *winks* But here's the chapter, as promised, and it's a long one. And thanks for your 'understanding' reviews!

I don't know when I'll be updating next, since I'm very busy at present and I still haven't finished rereading the seventh HP book. But I'll try not to make it a very long wait.

Now, I'm answering to a few reviews. I will reread all your reviews for the next update and I'll answer them in that chapter if there were any questions. And by then I will have also replied to the PMs sent to me, because I still haven't gotten around that yet *grins impishly*

Well, a reviewer asked about Orion's height. Now that he's about to turn 17, I imagine Orion to be about 5ft7 (1.74 meters), not that tall for a man but taller than many of his female acquaintances, with Draco being a few inches taller than him, and with Lezander and Voldemort being the tallest, around 6ftsomething (1.82 m).

Ah, and to Beast of the Sea, thanks for that wonderful in depth analysis! *grins widely* I enjoyed it a lot. All I can say is that Arian wasn't raped, thank god for that. I didn't realize that rape had become a theme in my fic! *shudders with horror* Honestly, I only used it as an explanation when it fit into place with the plot and with the stuff not explained in canon, at least in my opinion. *winks*

I also understand that there has been a lot of scenes with long dialogues which people find boring and thus skip. That's fine, I completely understand, the reader rules in that regard. *grins* But anyway, everything said comes to play in the story, and is important in some small measure to the whole plot. And I also use it to refresh the reader's memory about some stuff that happened in previous chapters. Though, perhaps I do waste too much time going in too deep with explanations and hints -with the use of dialogues- instead of jumping into the action. I'll try to change that, so that it isn't too tedious, but I'm afraid that there will still be some chapters with a lot of talk, to give some important explanations and for the discussion of war plans. But I do intend to have a lot of action in the near future, for when the battles and confrontations are described.

**WARNING: slash scene content, not that explicit – at least in my opinion **

**NOTE:** if someone speaks Romanian, I would appreciate it if you could tell me how to correctly write 'dragostea mea' and 'inima mea', when applied to a male. Because a reviewer, time ago, corrected me, but I can no longer find it. Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter 28 **

When his feet landed on marble floors, Orion's eyebrows shot upwards as he glanced at his surroundings. Voldemort had apparated them into a bedroom – what on earth was in the wizard's mind? It was when he glanced through the window panes and caught sight of the white peacocks proudly strutting around the vast and beautiful gardens, that he realized where he was - Malfoy Manor.

And given the grandness of the bedroom he was in, it was the master suite, formerly Lucius', though it certainly wasn't anymore. He knew that Lucius liked his comfortable lavishness and plush ornateness, and the wizard preferred his décor to be done in pristine whites and tasteful golds. The master bedroom was now draped and infused with blacks and dark greens, with some silver linings here and there. The furniture was austere, practical, and spartan – Voldemort had definitely changed things to suit his tastes.

But what momentarily caught his attention the most was a small round table at one corner, covered with a stack of books which Voldemort had undoubtedly been perusing during his nights. It was one of the titles which made his eyes grow large, and Orion stifled an alarmed and troubled gasp, just in time.

He knew the book well, 'Mythical magical artifacts'; one of the many he had read at Durmstrang's library, ages ago when researching the Hallows, and precisely the one which had given him some vague but useful information about the Elder Wand.

In the tome, the wand was referred to as the Deathstick, obviously with no mention of the Peverell brothers, the Hallows, or the Tale of the Three Brothers, since only selected few knew that all of it was linked together. Nevertheless, he remembered clearly that the book did speculate accurately about how the mastery of the Deathstick worked. Namely, how it passed from master to master by means of violence.

Orion felt a twist of anxious misgivings churning in his stomach, since if Voldemort had discovered that much, it meant that many were in danger. Given what had happened at Hogwart's Astronomy Tower, and since Voldemort believed that Dumbledore had been the true master of the Elder Wand, he knew what Voldemort's conclusions must have been after reading the book. After all, the Death Eaters involved had given Voldemort a detailed report about what had happened that night at Hogwarts; how Draco had disarmed Dumbledore and later how Snape had shot a Killing Curse at the old man.

Knowing Voldemort, the man wouldn't take any chances. At some point he would kill both Draco and Snape to be certain to become the new master of the Elder Wand. Furthermore, since it was evident that the dark wizard was still resolved in obtaining the Wand, it also meant that the man was expecting or planning a serious duel between the two of them, at some point.

Why else would Voldemort want an invincible wand, if not to be ready to kill him if necessary? Both of them knew that they couldn't duel each other with their Phoenix wands, and both of them also knew that his Life and Death wand was inordinately powerful.

Before Orion could dwell upon the ominous matter further, Voldemort vanished the books with a flick of his wand, and Orion found himself being dropped on one of the armchairs surrounding the small table.

"_You have much to explain_," hissed Voldemort, swiftly turning around to stare at Orion with narrowed eyes, towering before him. His crimson eyes narrowed further into slits, as his gaze travelled over Orion's body, and he added in a low, enraged tone, "_You have a visible magical aura, I can feel your power. Why is that, boy? You've never been powerful enough for your magical core to manifest itself outwardly with such an aura-_"

"I have," interrupted Orion, squirming in his seat as he attempted to get more comfortable.

Though it was pointless, his limbs felt heavy and incessantly ached, his hands trembled against his will, and he could feel beads of feverish perspiration covering his skin. Furthermore, as he glanced down at himself, he saw how he was almost entirely wrapped by swirling tendrils of blackness. His magical aura seemed to be animatedly vibrating all around him, like a thick, pulsing mantle – and it wouldn't be easy to explain without risking saying too much. He would indeed need to measure his words carefully.

Orion slowly rubbed his forehead, letting out an exhausted sigh, before he gazed up at Voldemort, and continued quietly as he waved a hand at himself, "This is the result of intensive training. It's been several months now during which I've grown to be quite powerful. I already had this magical aura. I simply covered it by drinking a potion-"

"_What potion?"_ demanded Voldemort, taking a step forward to loom over Orion, his posture intimidating and threatening, his face exuding rising anger. "_Training with whom?"_

Orion speared him with his gaze, and said simply, "Grindelwald."

A flash of fury spread over Voldemort's features, while stabbing pain flared in Orion's forehead. Orion stared at the dark wizard wearily, feeling the rage coming off the man's tense body and stony, dark expression. It didn't escape his notice how Voldemort was clutching his wand, now aimed forward, the knuckles white, while the man took another menacing step forward.

Even Voldemort's crimson eyes seemed to have a murdering glint in them, as the wizard hissed in a deadly tone of voice, "_I must have heard you incorrectly-_"

"You didn't," snapped Orion, as he quickly forced himself to gather every ounce of strength he could muster, before he slowly rose to his feet.

He wasn't going to be bullied and intimated by him, no matter how ill he felt. Furthermore, he had known from the start that matters between them wouldn't end well, given all the things he had to tell the dark wizard; lies within truths, to give him some information but not enough to unveil the truth about the Hallows or the Vindico Atrum matter.

However, he was sure that none of what he would reveal would please the man. On the contrary, he was expecting pain, and he was prepared to face it and give as much in return. He only hoped it wouldn't end as his visions apparently predicted.

With a flick of his wrist, Orion made his Phoenix Wand shoot from its holster to his hand, while he tensed his legs to steady his wobbly knees, momentarily halting the tremors that coursed through his weakening body.

"You suspected that Dietrich Emmerich had had something to do with the group of wizards who broke into Nurmengard, just before you destroyed it," continued Orion matter-of-factly, standing face-to-face with Voldemort as he readied himself, clutching his wand tighter. "You were partly right. Emmerich and I planned it together, and we succeeded, though he died for it. The corpse you saw, the one everyone believed to be Grindelwald's, was a doppelganger, which I created with a Necromantic spell."

He paused, as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the long, thin scar that crossed his chest, which had previously been glamoured. "See, this was made by a Manticore's dart. I sustained the injury during the break in to Nurmengard. I'm not lying. All this time, Grindelwald was alive, training me-"

Abruptly, armchairs crashed to the floor as Voldemort slammed him against the wall, the wizard's long, white fingers wrapping around Orion's throat in a choking hold, as the dark wizard snarled irately, "_Where is he?_"

Orion grunted in pain, his lower body twisted over the small table while his torso was painfully crushed against the marble wall. And no matter how much he tried to move, the wizard had him effectively pinned and almost immobile against the wall.

"Dead!" he rasped out, scratching the fingers that were choking him, attempting to break free without the need to attack Voldemort and commence what would undoubtedly become a very violent duel. "If you want me to tell you everything, release me!"

The long fingers around his throat tightened further, making Orion gasp in a shuddery breath, before Voldemort suddenly let go of him with a furious snarl. The wizard took a few steps away, while Orion slumped against the wall, slowly rubbing his bruised throat as his head swirled dizzily.

"_Start talking, boy,"_ hissed Voldemort in a chilly and menacing tone of voice, the crimson eyes piercing Orion as he leveled his wand at him. _"Why did you break out Grindelwald? Where did you keep him? Why would he agree to train you? And why did you keep it a secret from me, boy? Was it all part of a plan to stage a coup against me?"_ His eyes narrowed to slits, his expression furious, before he scoffed snidely, _"And what truly happened to him? You cannot expect me to believe that you bested and killed him. He was a Dark Lord and you're just a boy."_

Orion glared at him while he kept massaging his throat, and said stiffly, "If I were merely just a boy you wouldn't have chosen me as your spouse, would you? I'm powerful and you know it, you're seeing my magical aura right now!" He pulled himself away from the wall, and leaned heavily on the small table as he continued sharply, "And I did kill him. That's what you felt yesterday, he had struck me with a painful dark curse. We were dueling, he lost, and now he's dead-"

"_Don't . lie . to . me,_" snarled Voldemort in a low, icy hiss, gazing down at him with contempt and ire, his wand pointing straight at Orion's face. "_You expect me to believe you went through the trouble of breaking him out just to kill him in the end? You want to use him for something, against me, most probably-"_

"No!" snapped Orion angrily. "Listen to me. I'm trying to explain, to tell you the truth." He carded his fingers through his hair, his mind fast at work, as he continued vehemently, "I did break him out for a purpose, for two reasons really. The first, I wanted him to train me, and he did, that's why I'm so powerful at present. He trained me for months, every weekend, and I learned and developed my magic beyond my expectations – even his."

He pierced Voldemort with his eyes, seeing the mounting fury in his face, but also that the wizard was intently hearing him out. And he continued while he lowered his voice to a soft, regretful murmur, "I learned a lot from him, but he wasn't how I had expected him to be. His decades in Nurmengard had affected him. At first I didn't notice, but as time passed by he grew unhinged, talking about his formers days, still coveting power, obsessively yearning to be a Dark Lord once more. And I realized that, when I had learned everything I could from him, I would have to kill him, since he had become a threat to me - and to you! And that's what I did."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him, and hissed acidly, still with his wand aimed at him, "_If you wanted to better yourself, to be trained, you could have asked me. If I am to believe this, then you acted against me by rescuing him from prison-_"

"Yes, exactly!" interrupted Orion vehemently, pulling over his face an expression of sheepish contrition, hoping that the half-truth he had carefully planned to spout would be believed. "That's why I didn't tell you anything about it, because I knew you wouldn't allow me to do it. Because I knew you wouldn't want to have a former Dark Lord trotting around, posing a threat to your standing." He hung his head low, and added softly, "But I wanted him to be free, not just because I wanted to learn from him, but because I wanted to get to know him."

He briefly glanced up at Voldemort, to see his reaction so far, and saw that the wizard kept intently gazing at him, obviously expecting further explanations, so he continued on as planned, hoping his acting skills were up to par.

He loudly sighed, as he muttered quietly, "That's my second reason for having broken him out, and also my reason for always wanting to return to Durmstrang. Remember how you often asked me what there was in Durmstrang that always made me refuse going anywhere else? Why Durmstrang is so important to me? It was because of him, because there I learned about him and his ties to me-"

"_His ties to you?"_ hissed Voldemort, a deep, dark frown spreading over his face, while a calculating glint shone in his eyes.

Orion nodded adamantly. "Precisely, that's what I wanted to discover and I could only do it at Durmstrang." He sighed wearily, tiredly seating himself on top of the table, as he continued, "It started with Karkaroff. I didn't tell you before, but the night you killed him, I saw it through your eyes, as you know that can happen occasionally. At that time, I didn't understand why I had those visions. I obviously didn't know that I was your horcrux. But what he said to you marked me, because he had said something to me just before he fled."

He cocked his head to a side, and added quietly, "Remember what he said to you? That you weren't important, that he lived to help another, that that person was 'everything'. You thought he was talking about Dumbledore. You thought Karkaroff had betrayed the Dark side – he hadn't. He was referring to me, Tom."

He intently gazed at Voldemort, wanting to catch every detail of his reaction, while he saw the wizard's expression darkening, rage and suspicion undoubtedly resurging in the man's brilliant mind while it was fast at work.

And he continued softly, surreptitiously clutching his wand tighter, ready for Voldemort's violent reaction, as the lies within half-truths smoothly rolled from his tongue, "And I know that because the day Karkaroff left Durmstrang to flee from you, he asked to see me, and he told me something. He said that I was a true Grindelwald. And he gave me a portkey, without saying anything else. And with that, he left me hanging there, trying to figure it out."

He pierced the Dark Lord with his eyes, and added adamantly when the wizard remained quiet, "Don't you see what he meant? The portkey he gave me activated itself during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. It took me straight to Grindelwald's cell, though I still don't know how it was done. Nevertheless, that's what happened to me back then. And it's what I was afraid of telling you, because by then I had already discovered my link to Grindelwald. And he confirmed it to me. From then onwards, I began planning to break him free. And I enlisted Emmerich's help when I found out he had been one of Grindelwald's Hauptkommandaten."

The air in the room seemed to turn heavy. It felt like the calm before a storm, and the more he spoke, the more the atmosphere between them became tenser and more dangerous, as if something would soon come to rip it all to pieces, as his visions foretold. Voldemort was piercingly staring at him with enraged crimson eyes, the wizard's wand directly aimed at his face, the man's body tensing as if preparing for an attack.

However, Orion trudged on, knowing it had to be done, knowing also that it was now time to face the consequences before matters took another turn for the worse.

Making himself adopt a façade of calmness he certainly didn't feel, he intently gazed at the dark wizard, and finally said quietly, "He was my grandfather, Tom. That was what Karkaroff meant and what he wanted me to discover. That's also why I broke Grindelwald out of Nurmengard and why he trained me."

Having readied himself to duel for his life, Orion almost gaped when Voldemort simply stared at him in silence. The man was insanely furious, he could clearly see it in those narrowed crimson eyes. And the twitch of the long fingers wrapped around the wizard's wand told him that Voldemort truly wanted to Crucio him – at the very least. Regardless, the wizard didn't.

Minutes seemed to tick by, neither of them saying anything, while Orion felt tense wariness and apprehension coiling inside of him. Suddenly, Voldemort's next words made it clear to him that something was not right.

"_How?" _hissed Voldemort demandingly, intensely spearing him with his gaze. _"How is it that you're his grandson?"_

Orion frowned at him, his mind speeding with countless confused thoughts. This was certainly not the reaction he had been expecting; the dark wizard visibly restraining himself to not harm him. It didn't make any sense. Voldemort wasn't one to economize Cruciatus Curses. The man tortured and asked questions later. Something was definitely going on, and he couldn't figure it out.

"He wanted an heir," said Orion slowly, still studying the wizard's expression closely, trying to garner why he hadn't been attacked yet, given the importance of what he had revealed and been keeping a secret from the man. "He had instructed his Hauptkommandaten that if he was ever imprisoned before having an offspring, that they had the duty to provide him with an opportunity to impregnate someone-"

"_The first attempt to break him out,_" hissed Voldemort musingly, his gaze still fixed on Orion, as he slowly lowered his wand.

"Yes," said Orion shortly, nodding at him. "As you know, Emmerich led that attempt, but their purpose wasn't to break Grindelwald free, but to smuggle someone inside his cell. Emmerich carried it out. He captured a woman, imperioed her and-"

"_Who?"_ demanded Voldemort sharply, narrowing his eyes at him.

"My muggle grandmother, Rose Evans," replied Orion with annoyance, not appreciating being constantly interrupted. "My mum was her child with Grindelwald, though no one ever found out about it-"

"_You expect me to believe_," snarled Voldemort, anger suffusing his expression once more, "_that Grindelwald choose a muggle woman to carry his offspring? That he wanted to have a half-blood as an heir – your mudblood mother?"_

"Yes, I expect you to believe it," snapped Orion, coloring his voice with irritated exasperation, obviously not wanting to give out any more information which could make Voldemort discover that the truth about the matter was all about preserving and strengthening Antioch Peverell's line, which was supposedly inexistent. "Why would I lie about this?"

He held up a hand when the wizard was about to interrupt him, and continued sharply, "And no, Grindelwald never told me the specifics. He didn't tell me why he choose Rose Evans. Actually, he didn't tell me much about the whole affair, just that he had wanted to have descendants and that I was his."

Voldemort swirled around, his back turned to Orion, apparently staring into vacant air as he pondered, whilst hissing something under his breath, sounding angry. But it was so low that Orion couldn't catch it. Suspicion, fury, and sly machinations seemed to be churning inside the dark wizard's mind, but the man still didn't make any attempts of coercing more information through pain. And Orion's own suspicions at the wizard's uncharacteristical restraint climbed further.

Abruptly, Voldemort swiftly turned around to pierce him with his eyes, and he demanded crisply, _"And you have killed him?"_

"Yes," said Orion slowly, openly boring his gaze into his. "I'm willing to take Veritaserum to answer that question again, if you don't believe me. I have no reason to lie about the matter." He clenched his jaw, and added stiffly, "He's dead, gone, to never appear again. Even if he was my grandfather, he was dangerous to me, and our plans, and I had already obtained all the training I wanted from him. I'm not above killing my own when they pose a threat – I did kill Nymphadora Tonks as well, if you remember."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him, apparently having some trouble believing the truth of his words. But in the next second the wizard's lips curved into a slight, satisfied smirk, before his face darkened again, and he hissed lowly, _"Who knows that Grindelwald was your grandfather?"_

"No one, at present. But soon, everyone will figure it out," said Orion nonchalantly, while he covertly tensed his fingers around his wand. "I paid him homage by building a monument as his tombstone, engraving 'grandfather', amongst other things, on its base."

Suddenly, his scar blazed with painful, sharps stabs, and Orion had to pull considerable effort into not flinching or recoiling when Voldemort swiftly reached him to tightly clutch his face in a punishing grip, fingers sinking aggressively into his cheeks, as the man hissed out, "_And why did you do that, boy? You were indeed plotting a coup against me, weren't you? With the aid of your dear old grandfather. Is that what Igor, the pathetic old fool, wanted? How many others were involved?"_ The wizard's crimson eyes narrowed further as his voice rose in fury, the hissing becoming almost unintelligible, "_You were trained for that purpose, boy, don't lie to me. How many wanted to replace me with you? How long have you been plotting against me?"_

Orion angrily yanked his face free, and spat caustically, "Others might have wanted that, but not I. I wouldn't be telling you all this if I had been plotting against you, would I? I wouldn't have killed my own grandfather if I wanted to follow his plans for the both of us to take the leadership of the Dark! That's what he wanted, to use me to come back to power. And yes, I suppose that Karkaroff also wanted to use me to replace you as the Dark Lord, seeing that you wanted to kill him. I was certainly the most appealing option, given that I was young enough to be molded by them. But I didn't know about Grindelwald's plots, and when I found out, I killed him. So you should be satisfied!"

"_If I find out you have been lying to me about this matter,"_ hissed Voldemort in a deadly, cold tone, unceremoniously releasing Orion's chin as he took a step back to pierce him with narrowed, crimson eyes, _"you'll regret it dearly."_

"Point taken," bit out Orion irritably, flicking his wand to make one of the toppled armchairs spring back into place.

He slowly sunk on it, tiredly sighing as he massaged his bruised chin, whilst wishing that their conversation could soon come to an end. He was increasingly feeling worse, he could feel his heavy lids wanting to close shut over his eyes, and he could feel the waves of sick nausea and feverish tremors threaten to painfully ripple over his body once more. The potion-withdrawal symptoms seemed to come and go with some regularity, and he was positive that they would soon come back to wreck havoc in his body.

At last, he decided to probe matters and turn around the table, and he demanded crisply, ""Why did you want to know where Grindelwald was? Why were you so interested in him? Why did you attack Nurmengard?"

Voldemort merely arched an eyebrow, and replied coolly, _"To kill him, of course. As you said, I couldn't have a former Dark Lord posing a threat to me."_

Orion swallowed a scoff, and made himself nod in understanding, while something hardened inside of him. Of course, he hadn't expected Voldemort to tell him the truth about his quest to obtain the Elder Wand. But this blatant lie, given face-to-face, proved to show him that they both had layers upon layers of plots and lies between them. That no matter how hard he tried, it would always be that way. It seemed impossible for them to truly trust each other, to fully and openly cooperate and form a unified front. And it left a somber, bitter taste in his mouth.

"_If you have not been plotting against me_," hissed Voldemort, piercing him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, his face looking hard and unforgiving, "_why did you state that Grindelwald was your grandfather in this monument you spoke about? And why_," the man's eyes narrowed further, looking as mere crimson slits in the pale face overshadowed by the dim candlelight of the room, whilst his voice turned slow and deadly with rage, "_did you congregate your so called Dark Army to show them how you had… turned against me after the night we spent with Rabastan?"_

Orion momentarily paled, before he pulled himself together, shooting him a cocky smirk while he replied smoothly, "Showing them how I had tortured you, you mean." He angled his head to a side, his smirk growing while he tightly wrapped his fingers around his wand, still innocently lying by his side. "Isn't it obvious? I wanted them to see that I was powerful enough to confront you. The DA are my followers after all, and they need to feel secure with me. They needed to have proof that I was powerful enough to be their leader. You do the same thing with your Death Eaters, and you've punished me in front of them often enough. I simply took a leaf from your book, so you cannot blame me for that."

He waved his left hand dismissively, and added coolly, "And I want people to know that I'm Grindelwald's grandson for that very same reason."

Seeing Voldemort's eyes narrowing with thinly concealed fury, he continued quickly, "Not to steal your position as the Dark Lord. As I have often repeated, I'm not interested in that. I have always wanted you and I to work together, not against each other. I have no desire to be the Dark Lord." He speared the dark wizard with a serious and hard gaze. "I simply want to be taken seriously as another leader of the Dark – as your ally, since that's what I am, remember? And whatever helps to strengthen my position as a leader of the Dark, benefits you as well. When Grindelwald's statue is discovered, they'll figure out that I'm his grandson, and that will strengthen my position and it will help me secure the loyalty of my followers. Thus, we'll be stronger for when the open war in England begins."

"_I see,"_ hissed Voldemort slowly, a superior smirk tugging his lips, his expression turning sly and condescending. _" So that's why you have slithered your way back to me, with your tail between your legs, finally deciding to blubber out what you have been keeping a secret from me."_ He clicked his tongue mockingly, spreading out a hand to trail a fingertip along Orion's visible lightning-bolt scar, causing a ripple of pain to surge in Orion's forehead, as he sneered, _"Now that the war is coming, you want to be in my good graces again, don't you, my little serpent?"_ His smirk widened as he kept caressing Orion's scar, adding surmounting pressure and pain to it. _"You want to be in my fold again, under my wing and protection."_

Orion bristled and gritted his teeth against the pain, but he swallowed a nasty retort, pulling a blank and subdued expression over his face as he replied calmly, "If you want to see it that way, yes."

"_Tell me,_" hissed Voldemort in a low, jeering whisper, as he kept trailing his finger over Orion's scar, his crimson eyes fixed on it, "_is that also why you have uncovered your scar? Did you think it would make me feel protective over you? That I would think twice about punishing you for your deeds against me, for the things you kept secret from me, out of any sentiment of ownership I could have over you?"_

The pain in his forehead flared, the blaze increasing, and Orion finally had enough. He violently slapped the wizard's finger away from his forehead, as he spat mordantly, "I couldn't care less about that. I uncovered my scar because I have no reason to conceal it anymore, and it serves to remind everyone that even as a baby I was powerful enough to best you – even if it was accidental." He shot him a nasty grin, and added sharply, "Remember that."

Voldemort scoffed derisively, seemingly finding the comment too ludicrous to be worthy of a retort, and he dug his fingertip into Orion's scar, imbuing into it one last stab of piercing pain before he drew his hand away.

Once more, Orion saw how the dark wizard seemed to be thinking matters over, with mounting anger flashing in the man's crimson eyes. Yet, again, even though Voldemort's long fingers twitched around his wand as if desiring to shoot out a dark curse, the wizard merely fixedly stared at him. Orion's confusion grew with each passing second that the dark wizard pulled restraint over his usual sadistic inclinations. Nevertheless, he forced himself to stay alert to any possible attack from the man.

"_Where's Fenrir Greyback?"_ hissed Voldemort abruptly, leveling Orion with a narrowed, piercing gaze.

A harsh chuckle sprung from Orion's lips, as he shot him a nasty, smug smirk. "I'm glad you brought it up. I sent him to Lycaon, to Remus. Because surely you know that that former follower of yours is Remus' mate, don't you?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed even further, and Orion didn't have to look twice to know that the wizard was once more restraining his violent nature with commendable effort and control.

At the wizard's silence, Orion dropped his smirk, and groused out with angered accusation, "And Greyback told me how you have been going against my back, contacting the Alphas of continental Europe, promising them a potion to transform under non-full-moon nights. You're trying to steal my allies away from me-"

"_You cost me my alliance with the Dementors, boy,"_ hissed Voldemort pointedly, his tone of voice utterly calm, though his features were becoming increasingly angered. _"You kidnapped Nymphadora Tonks from my Manor, and killed her, after I had ordered you to bring her back to me, since I still had uses for her. Not to mention that you have now cost me one more follower."_ His eyes narrowed with fury, and he added in a low, sharp hiss, _"Your deeds against me keep mounting, boy. And be assured that I will make you pay for them."_

Orion clenched his jaw, and spat angrily, "I only take from you what's not rightfully yours. The allegiance with the Dementors was a dangerous risk. I have no doubt that they would have turned against you at some point. Creatures like that cannot be controlled, Tom. Nymphadora was a Black, and since I'm Head of my House, I had the right to decide what to do with her according to pureblood tradition. And Greyback certainly should have never been a Death Eater, even if you did somehow persuade -or I rather say, manipulate- him in order to mark him. He's Remus' mate and now he is where he should have always been." He grimaced, and added in a murmur, "At least I hope that what I have done is for the best."

He speared the wizard with a narrowed gaze, and continued acerbically, "Nevertheless, I have never encroached upon your territory, but you have in mine. Do you think that I'm not aware that Gustav Orloff must have been the one who told you about what I had shown to my DA? I know that he's the idiot that the Carrows appointed as your liaison in Durmstrang!" He gritted his teeth, and hissed out furiously, "Through Orloff, you're recruiting in my school, and you bloody well know that Durmstrang is my turf! As your ally, I have the right to have my own followers, from my own school. You've always had Hogwarts as your recruiting grounds, but Durmstrang is mine. Do I make myself clear?!"

Voldemort patronizingly gazed down at him, as if observing a pathetic little child throwing a temper tantrum, and he hissed impassively, _"Where's Draco Malfoy?"_

"What?" stuttered out Orion, startled at the sudden change of subjects. His jaw clenched with anger, and he bit out, "We were talking about-"

"_Where . is . Draco . Malfoy?"_ snarled Voldemort harshly, abruptly towering over him. Yet, Orion noticed, without making any visible attempts to force answers by means of violent coercion or by the use of dark curses.

"As I told you the moment I left your Manor, I went out to look for him," replied Orion, their previous argument flying out of his mind, while he pulled a puzzled and worried expression over his face. "But I haven't found him, or any clue which could point me towards the right direction." He heavily sighed and rubbed his increasingly pounding temples, as he added in a murmur, "I don't know where he is, or who took him away. I just hope that he's alright."

In the bat of an eyelash, his chin was punishingly grabbed and lifted up by long fingers, and Voldemort pierced him with narrowed eyes as he hissed sharply, _"No one but you would have dared to rescue that boy from the punishment which was due to him. No one would have gone against me in that fashion, but you. So, I repeat, where is he?"_

"I don't know,"gritted out Orion, glowering at him. Seeing the wizard's mounting fury, he quickly changed tactics, and snorted loudly as he arched a mocking eyebrow. "If I was the one to take him, where would I have concealed him, eh? Your Death Eaters have been hunting him down without any results, so it's obvious that someone is helping Draco. But it can't be me since I'm here with you. And your minions must have already checked my properties without finding him, right? My guess is that Dumbledore is behind it. The old coot was the one to offer Draco help at the Astronomy Tower, after all. Remember? You surely saw that when you brutally legilimized Draco."

As Voldemort wrenched his hand away from Orion's chin, as if disgusted, the man's jaw clenched in visible, repressed ire. It was clear to him that Voldemort hadn't believed his excuse, but apparently the wizard had resolved to not attack him during their entire meeting. Orion felt that no matter how many reasons he was giving the wizard, the man was simply postponing to deal out punishment at some other point in time. The constant question that swirled in Orion's puzzled mind was 'why?'.

"_How did you know about Dumbledore's headquarters in Paris?"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, the change in subjects momentarily startling Orion as he was pulled away from his calculating musings.

"Did the Death Eaters you sent there find anything?" asked Orion quickly, feeling a frisson of excited anticipation.

"_No,"_ hissed Voldemort indifferently. _"They only found Barty Crouch's body."_

"Oh," muttered Orion with disappointment, before he shot the wizard a narrowed glance. "I was the one to kill him, not the light wizards. When I was making my escape I saw Barty -what was left of him, that is. You tortured him to insanity through his Dark Mark."

"_I did,"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, as he arched an eyebrow. _"Do you disapprove?"_

"No," said Orion shortly, not even attempting to argue the matter. Some things – as changing Voldemort's mind of how to deal with followers- you just shouldn't try to do. It could give you ulcers, or in his case, make you end up being Crucioed by a sadistic Dark Lord – usually, that is, since at present the dark wizard seemed decidedly against it, for some devious reason of his own, no doubt.

Orion grimaced due to Voldemort's perplexing attitude, but he was instantly snapped from his ponderings when the wizard hissed in a supposedly musing tone, _"Strange that the same isn't working on the Malfoy boy, wouldn't you say? It seems that something is unexpectedly blocking me from using my Dark Mark on him. As a matter of fact, it feels to me as if his Dark Mark doesn't exist any longer."_

"Really?" breathed out Orion, having swiftly masked his expression to one of flabbergasted puzzlement, as he saw that Voldemort was fixedly piercing him with his gaze. "That is weird." He stared at him with wide eyes, as he added with befuddlement, "What do you think that Dumbledore has done to him?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed to slits, before the wizard hissed with sharp impatience, "_I will soon find out the truth about it. Now answer my initial question, boy. How did you know about the old man's new Headquarters?"_

"Er, well," said Orion waveringly, before he shot him a glance and continued more firmly, lacing his voice with anger, "Grindelwald wanted to see Dumbledore, and he manipulated and forced my hand to agree to it, making me sign a magical contract of non-aggression. I'm not quite sure why Grindelwald wanted me there, since when they spoke they did it in privacy." He forced an amused smile on his face, as he continued, "Apparently the two of them had been sweet on each other when they were young. Did you know?"

Voldemort merely arched a surprised eyebrow, but his expression soon turned impatient again. And Orion proceeded to continue more quickly, as he waved a hand dismissively, "Well, the point is that they had their meeting, and I couldn't attack the old coot. So when he started disapparating, I grasped his arm and I was pulled into the apparition with him. We landed there, in his new Headquarters, but I barely made it out unscathed."

He frowned, and added in a serious and pressing tone of voice, since this information was something that Voldemort indeed needed to know and consider, "It was packed with light wizards, Tom. Most of them French, Italian and Spanish Aurors. I would say there was about forty of them in the end, since suddenly more came-"

"_And you prevailed against such numbers?"_ interrupted Voldemort with condescending disbelief tinged with suspicion, which was accompanied by a narrowing of his eyes.

"Er, not exactly. Not by myself," murmured Orion, before he took in a deep, tired breath to finally divulge the most important issue in his opinion. He leveled him with a stern gaze, and continued firmly, "Someone briefly helped me out against their attack. I had never met him before, but for some reason or other he wanted me to escape, and he aided me." He sighed with exhaustion, rubbing his aching temples, before he pierced the wizard with his eyes, trying to convey the importance of his words. "It was Dumbledore's grandnephew. He's called Arian Hyperion Valenor, and it seems that he-"

"_Dumbledore doesn't have a grandnephew,"_ hissed Voldemort caustically, his eyes narrowing to slits as he regarded Orion with a hard expression on his face.

"He does," bit out Orion with miffed annoyance. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. The old coot's sister bore a child. Grindelwald once mentioned it to me, but I didn't think it was important until I met Arian. Arian is Dumbledore's sister's grandson, and the old coot's sole living relative if you rule out the old man's brother Aberforth." He leveled Voldemort with a hard gaze, as he added sharply, "And Arian is very powerful, Tom, more than Dumbledore himself. I could feel it."

A dark frown spread over Voldemort's features, but Orion didn't give the man a chance to voice anything as he continued to relate what he could about Arian. He mostly told him what he had found out through Sebastien Valois, claiming to know such things by having written a letter to Sebastien, since the wizard was the only Frenchmen he knew, and since he had detected a French accent in Arian's tone of voice.

But he certainly didn't mention anything related to the Vindico issue. Therefore, he didn't breathe a word about why Arian was fixated with him, nor about Arian's stay with the Flamels –since it had been detected by Aux Atrum monitoring. He didn't mention, either, his theory that Arian could absorb Dumbledore's magic, but he did point out that Arian seemingly wanted Dumbledore dead for some reason.

At least, he divulged without any doubt that the old coot had made Arian a Dumbeldore through a blood ritual; one of his suspicions he felt absolutely certain about. And throughout it all, he expressly remarked upon, and insisted, that Arian posed a new threat to them since the light wizard was undoubtedly very powerful.

Regardless, Orion didn't perceive any worries on Voldemort's part. The dark wizard had simply listened to him with apparent dismissive disregard, and Orion finally barked out with exasperation, "Listen to me, I'm telling you that Arian is the one we should target from now on! I'm sure we are going to be seeing him during the war in England, and we have to dispose of him before even considering killing Dumbledore. The old coot is nothing compared to Arian!"

Voldemort arched a quizzical eyebrow at his outburst, and hissed in a low, quiet tone of voice, which Orion knew to be a sign to be wary of, "_This Arian seems to be a touchy subject for you, if speaking of him has you so flustered and frazzled."_ His crimson eyes imperceptibly narrowed, whilst the man's face adopted an expression that Orion couldn't quite decipher. "_And his reason for helping you escape makes me wonder what else you're not telling me."_

"I've told you everything I know about him. And I repeat that I don't know why he helped me," snapped Orion angrily, before he clutched his lower torso when a wave of pain rippled through his body. He momentarily closed his eyes against the sickly nausea he felt, and added through clenched teeth, "He knew who I was, and seemed interested in me – surely because I am the Boy-Who-Lived, or something of the sort. I think he's like the old coot in that regard. Perhaps he wants to manipulate and use me against you, like Dumbledore wanted in the past."

At last, he opened his eyes to pierce the wizard with a demanding glare. "He's bad news for us, so will you trust me on this and consider him the most important threat to us?"

"_I don't see why,"_ hissed Voldemort, his tone sneeringly dismissive. _"Even if he is a Dumbledore, the old man has decades of experience over him. This Arian is just one more young light wizard with delusions of grandeur and aspirations above himself. One more who will soon be easily crushed in the battlefield-"_

"You always underestimate others," wheezed out Orion as crisply as he could, while he brushed a hand over his feverish forehead, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes. "Beware of that, Tom, it's your major weakness."

Voldemort's lips curled, before he gazed down at him from his looming height, hissing with impassive mockery, _"And apparently yours is to foolishly become addicted to potions. Am I to assume that your current condition is due to the potion you allegedly have been taking to suppress your magical aura?"_

"Yes," grunted Orion through clenched jaws, as he tried to stave off a groan of pain, clutching his stomach tighter. "I'm going into withdrawal, and it will last for about a week. The symptoms come and go, and I think they will get worse soon enough, since the potion was poison-based –"

"_Poison-based?_" spat Voldemort in a loud, enraged hiss, which seemed to thunder through Orion's ears and into his pounding skull.

It happened so quickly, that Orion didn't even have time to blink. He instantly felt sick, dizzy and disoriented when a sharp flick of the wizard's wand caused an invisible force to pull him from his seat. He found himself rigidly standing up against his will, as if tightly tied and pulled up in place by phantom cords.

A tingle of magic prickled through his body, something he recognized as some sort of diagnostic charm. And in the next moment he saw himself glowing yellow – it had to mean that his physical condition was not very good, he supposed, but he wasn't quite sure. He did understand, however, what the sharp bout of flaring pain in his forehead meant. And when he gazed up at Voldemort in startlement, he could not only feel the wizard's fury through his scar, but he could also see it in the man's dark, foreboding expression.

Orion's eyes unwittingly widened in dizzied confusion, for he had rarely seen the dark wizard looking so uncontrollably enraged. Everything about Voldemort seemed to blast off and vibrate with unrepressed and murdering fury – even the wizard's usually controlled magical aura was now plainly visible, flaring out. He was about to demand his release, and also an explanation, when his clothes were ripped away from his body, just seconds before something propelled him backwards.

A yelp of shock escaped from his lips as he felt himself flying backwards through the air, and then a grunt, when he somehow landed softly on something.

Gasping out a breath of air, Orion glanced around with wide eyes, until he realized that he was lying inside the large, four-poster bed, tucked under several covers, and completely immobile, with Voldemort now looming over him by the bedside.

"What the-" spluttered Orion, peering up at the dark wizard, his eyes glinting with fury. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?! Cancel the damned spell, release me-"

"_You're staying here until you're well,"_ hissed Voldemort impassively, so calmly that Orion almost doubted having seen the rage displayed on the wizard's face mere seconds ago.

"The hell I am!" spat Orion angrily, briskly trying to reach either of his wands.

Voldemort acted before he could succeed with his endeavor, by grasping the Phoenix wand lying far away on the floor, which had flown out from Orion's hand when propelled through the air. And summarily, the dark wizard ripped his other wand from the holster strapped on Orion's forearm, before he undid the straps of both holsters, leaving them on top of one nightstand.

"Look here," snapped Orion crisply, having forced himself to calm down in order to drill some sense into Voldemort's head, "I'm not staying in your bloody bedroom, nor anywhere else in Malfoy Manor-"

"_You don't have anywhere else to go, do you?"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, his eyes briefly narrowing. _"All Black properties are being surveilled by Aurors. This is the safest and the only place where you can stay – isn't it?"_

"Er – well…" blubbered out Orion, his mind frenziedly spinning as he tried to come up with some believable alternative, since the last thing he wanted to disclose was his access to Potter Manor. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and barked out indignantly, "This might be the safest place but it's not where I want to stay! For the last two days I've been hiding in Durmstrang, not even the Danish Aurors found me when they inspected the school looking for me. And I asked Calypso if I could stay with her in Rosier Manor-"

"_Neither are safe enough, since they are the most obvious hideouts for you,"_ hissed Voldemort harshly, leveling him with a hard, unyielding gaze. _"You WILL stay here until I give you permission to leave. And when you do, you'll tell me precisely where."_

Orion bristled, and he aggressively shook his arms against his invisible restraints, as he spat out, "Fine, but cancel the bloody spell."

"_It will fade once you fall asleep,"_ hissed Voldemort calmly, his face stony and expressionless.

With an angered and exasperated grunt, Orion defeatedly plopped his head onto the fluffy pillows, already feeling too drained and tired to argue with the man any longer. After all, he would surely manage to escape as soon as he felt a little bit better. And for the time being –given that Draco was still lying unconscious in Potter Manor, and soon to be monitored by Calypso and her dad – it didn't really matter where he spent his week of detoxification.

"_We'll continue what we were discussing, later,"_ hissed Voldemort coolly, gazing down at him with an indecipherable expression on his face, while he tucked Orion's wands into his cloak's pocket, every movement of his being trailed by Orion's narrowed gaze. A thin, mocking smirk spread on the wizard's lips. _"You'll get them back when you're better. After all, there's no point in you having them, since in your pathetic, weak condition you're useless, boy." _

Orion shot him a baleful glower, before a resigned sigh escaped from his lips. But suddenly, something in his mind clicked into place; Grindelwald's former suspicions meshing with all of the perplexing happenings of that evening – Voldemort's strange attitude, the wizard's restraint when Orion had expected to be Crucioed on the spot several times, the diagnostic charm casted on him, and now being imprisoned in the man's bed and apparently to be somewhat looked-after during his week of detoxification.

His eyes widened in horror, something sickly twisted and churned in his stomach, and he gazed up at Voldemort as he breathed out shakily, "Have you ever done something to me against my will and knowledge?"

"_Something to you?"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. _"Like what?"_

"I don't bloody know," bit out Orion, his jaw clenching so hard that he felt as if his teeth were going to snap against each other. As his suspicions solidified and grew, he felt frenzied rage boiling up in him. Nevertheless, he didn't want to elucidate, because if he was wrong he certainly didn't want to give the wizard any ideas. "That's why I'm asking." He pierced the wizard with his eyes, and as he unsuccessfully tried to launch himself upwards, he yelled furiously, "HAVE YOU?!"

"_No,_" snarled Voldemort in a short, angered hiss, boring his equally narrowed gaze into Orion's.

Orion intently stared into his eyes, and murmured shakily, his fury making his voice come out in a long, trembling tone, "You'd better be telling me the truth, because if I find out that you-"

"_I haven't done anything to you, boy,_" hissed Voldemort, his tone impatient, harsh, and cutting. "_Now rest._ _I have no use for a sick ally unable to even counter a levitating charm. There's a Dark Allies Meeting this Sunday evening, and you'd better be in shape by then. We have much to discuss." _He narrowed his eyes at him, hissing caustically,_ "And we have to plan what you'll disclose regarding your relation to Grindelwald and about your other blunderings and exploits."_

And with that, before Orion could even retort, the wizard was out of the room, the sound of the door being slammed shut echoing loudly throughout the vastness of the bedroom.

Tightly scrunching his eyes close, still feeling the surge of anger coiling inside him, Orion bit into his lower lip and sagged on the mattress, still without being able to freely move his limbs. He was uncomfortable, felt sick and nauseous, though he didn't know if it was now caused by the potion-withdrawal symptoms or by the wild suspicions spinning in his dizzy and increasingly feverish mind. Nevertheless, something sluggish seemed to be creeping along the edges of his mind, like a soft, cuddling mantle wrapping around his awareness.

And with the last realization that Voldemort had at some point casted a wandless sleeping charm on him, Orion grumbled sluggishly, cursing the man to the deepest pit of the foulest hell he could possibly concoct in his imagination, and inexorably fell into a deep, profound slumber.

* * *

He was dreaming… he felt plush and cozy warmness enveloping him in an intimate embrace, soft caresses trailed over his feverish, hot skin, as long fingers gently massaged the taut muscles of his arms and flat belly… Orion murmured into his pillow, slowly and lazily stretching his aching limbs, like a cat stretching in the midst of fluff puffs of cushions…

The warmth around him felt very familiar, and he sighed in blissful contentment as the caresses continued trailing over his body, feeling his muscles relaxing under the touch, the slight waves of pain ebbing away… Yet he knew he had to be dreaming, since his awareness merely seemed to be a thin flicker of silver far away in some dark, distant horizon... And the warm hands kept touching every inch of his skin, all the sensations meshed with a soft, foggy veil of deep slumber… So very familiar, the warmth… such gentleness, it could only be…

"Lezander?" murmured Orion, still half asleep and with no desire to wake up from such a dream.

"_No._"

The sharp, caustic hiss speared into his consciousness like the stab of an ice-pick. Orion's eyes snapped wide open, his body rigidly tensing as he glanced around, feeling dizzily disoriented.

When the dim moonlight flickered through the heavy curtains, barely lightening his surroundings, it finally all came back to him, remembering where he was. A groan of disappointment escaped from his lips, his deeply pleasant dream having completely faded away from his mind, and he snuggled his face into the pillow.

But the dream-like hands kept trailing over his body, now the caresses having more pressure and strength in them, the touch more palpable… more real… Orion yelped in startlement, and swiftly spun around in the bed, his eyes wide, trying to distinguish something in the darkness of the room.

He came face to face with narrowed crimson eyes, they looked angry for some reason, and then the rest of Voldemort's features seemed to unveil from the shadows. With round eyes, he stared at the wizard, not knowing what to think or say. He raised an arm, whether to push the man away or to grab him, he didn't quite know yet.

But it proved pointless, his arm dropped like a heavy lift the moment he tried to stretch it forward… and his mind still felt foggy and sluggish… the sleeping charm still had some residue effect over him, but at least the restraining spell had already vanished, as Voldemort had promised… Voldemort… and the caressing hands… it hadn't been a dream… it had been Voldemort's hands… What the…

"What the hell are you…" mumbled out Orion, slowly shaking his head, unsuccessfully trying to clear it from his persisting drowsiness.

"_Helping you, boy,_" came a harsh hiss, and Orion grimaced at the sound while he fretfully rubbed his eyes – anything to rid him from the pervading feeling of still being half asleep.

Even the hiss seemed to be echoing very loudly in his mind… echoing, echoing, echoing… and he didn't like to be called a boy. Nope, he definitely didn't.

"No, I don't," muttered Orion darkly, slowly peeling an eyelid open, checking if Voldemort was there.

Yup, the wizard was there. But he should be angry at him, shouldn't he? Yes, yes, he knew he had some reason to be angry… ahh, yes, he remembered quite clearly… but… Ah, well, he didn't care at present… He only wanted his dream back… What had happened to the hands?… Oh, yeah, there they are… Oh, rubbing along his muscles… Ah, the aches were going away… Voldemort had to be using some soothing, healing spell… Wait, why would the wizard be helping him out? That wasn't like Voldemort… Nope, not at all…

Ohhh, that felt good… But he was like a sitting duck, wasn't he? Voldemort could shoot at him one of those nasty green lights, and he would puff!, die… but, ahhh, he'd be dying a happy man… but Voldemort had to know that if he tried to do something harmful to him, he would take revenge… and it would be painful, and vicious, and bloody scary… yeah, he could be damned scary and sadistic too… Voldemort had to know that already… but he should tell him, just in case… because, yeah, he could be bloody scary too… very scary…

Oi! What the bloody hell was the matter with his freaking thoughts? Orion groaned, attempting to massage his temples, and some coherence to his mind while he was at it. He felt as if his mind possessed the intellectual capability of an infant… nay, of a Blumbering Blabby Boo… that was a magical creature, wasn't it? What the…

"What the hell have you done to me?" slurred out Orion, shooting the wizard a baleful glare. "You've drugged meee…"

"_I fed you a potion that will help you recover sooner_," hissed Voldemort sharply, but Orion couldn't quite discern the wizard's expression in such darkness. "_The aches over your body have dimmed in intensity already, haven't they?_"

Orion frowned – well, he tried to frown, at least, but he didn't know how it came out. But he was frowning, because he frowned, sometimes, when he was thinking. And now he was trying to think about Voldemort's question. Ah, yes, the answer was 'yes'. But who cared? Oh, he cared… he cared about the bloody potion he had been fed unawares… Ohh, but those hands were still massaging him… now his chest… He looked down at them… Yes, those were Voldemort's hands… how could they feel so soft, warm, and gentle? They never felt so… Ohhh, that felt very, very good… they were going down… down, down, down… towards…

"Oi, watch what you're touching!" he spluttered out, weakly swatting those pesky, pesky hands… wonderful, amazing hands, with looong fingers… but… "No groping!"

"_I'm not groping, you retarded fool,_" snarled Voldemort. _"And there's nothing you have that I haven't seen or touched before."_

The wizard sounded angry… or miffed? No, Voldemort could never just sound 'miffed', he always sounded angry, scary angry, evil angry. Yes, scary and evil, those were it.

Orion glanced up at him again, and blinked. Voldemort didn't look scary or evil, he looked… weird… well, aggravated, very aggravated… the man seemed to be in a foul mood… but the picture he presented was a weird one… a Dark Lord massaging him, helping his muscles relax for the aches and pain to fade away… Something was not right with this scenario… Unless…

"Are you seducin' me?"

Voldemort shot him what he could only consider to be a very dark and lethal glare, but then… Oh, the wizard was smirking… one of those sly and devious upturned twists of the lips that he sometimes hated so much, that he sometimes wished to punch out from his condescending face… but it was such a handsome face… manly, dark… yes, dark… Voldemort always looked dark, and bloody attractive too… darkly so… the bastard…

"_It has been a long while for you, hasn't it?"_ hissed Voldemort, the smirk still present there, and it looked wider, the man's expression one of vicious superiority.

Ah, he could discern his expression, at last! The foggy veil from his eyes seemed to be dissolving away, though his surroundings were still very dimly lit. Orion frowned, and forcefully rubbed his forehead, feeling a frisson of ease and relief when he detected that his limbs didn't feel as heavy as before. Though he still felt sluggish. Ah, but now he was thinking straight!

He breathed out an exhalation of victory. He realized that he still wasn't completely recovered from whatever potion Voldemort had forced down his throat during his spell-induced sleep. But at least he didn't feel as if he was channeling a two-year-old. Yes, his cognitive capacities were quickly improving.

Remembering the question, he jerked his head up to glance at the wizard, as he quickly figured out what the man had been referring to.

Orion snorted, and countered bitingly, "And for you as well, I surmise."

At Voldemort's silence, he pierced the wizard with a narrowed gaze, but he soon masked his expression to one of utter indifference and looked away. He shouldn't care whether the man had bedded others, should he? No, he definitely shouldn't. But the possibility still stung, painfully and sharply.

Focusing his gaze on the pillow on which his head was resting, Orion frowned as he detected a weird taste in his mouth. He loudly smacked his lips together, moved around his tongue, and finally swallowed, a sense of relief encompassing him when he recognized the flavor in his mouth. Voldemort hadn't lied to him. He remembered tasting this potion in Healing Dark Arts with Petra Podroff.

The wizard had indeed given him a mild potion used to sooth aches. For now, it was working, though he knew that it was temporary. More of that potion would probably help him out during the week, but not enough to completely stave off all the symptoms, according to what Grindelwald had once told him. But at least it was something, and given that he had no choice but to stay there, he would demand from Voldemort more of it. And the wizard better deliver, or he would act as unbearably and snottily brattish as he could and make the man's life a living hell.

Relaxing further, and still feeling drowsy, Orion slowly stretched under the bed covers, embracing his pillow with both arms, making himself comfortable, as he side-glanced at Voldemort.

His eyesight had already adjusted to the darkness, and he could see the wizard's profile and the shape of his body under the sheets. Hours must have passed since their meeting, since Voldemort looked tired, as if the man had been busy for quite some time before calling it a night. The man's black hair was disorderly ruffled, his chest bare, and he caught a peek of silk, black pajama pants under one of the bed covers.

And he could also distinguish the Black heirloom silver chain coiled around the wizard's neck, the pendant lying innocently on the man's chest. He was almost tempted to touch it, to feel the piece of soul inside it, the one he had transferred from the Resurrection Stone of the Gaunt ring.

Glancing at Voldemort's face, he detected slight dark circles under the wizard's crimson eyes – something he hadn't paid attention to before. It was clear that Voldemort hadn't had a good night sleep for quite some time, and knowing him, it had to be due to work – that is, planning the war and the annihilation or subjugation of those he considered to be underneath his standards, muggles and mudbloods, no doubt.

But at present, Orion didn't concern himself over those matters. In fact, he didn't want to think about any serious issues. He still felt exhausted, drained, and about to topple over with sleepy tiredness. Nevertheless, his mind didn't seem to want to forget the 'dream', or better said, the way Voldemort's hands had moved over his body. And it was all the man's fault, even more so for having brought up the sex subject.

Orion muffled a groan, biting down his tongue. He had been fine until now. He hadn't thought about sex in ages… Er, well, not exactly. He was a teenager after all; sex popped into his mind constantly, but he had always been too busy and too stressed to dwell on it. He had simply taken matters into his own hands, literally, whenever he found the spare time for it, and that happened once every blue moon. But satisfying oneself wasn't the same thing as… He shot Voldemort another surreptitious side-glance. Nope, it definitely wasn't the same thing.

He quietly sighed, turning his gaze towards the ceiling. Yes, better focus on that, because having sex with Voldemort out of the blue, given the circumstances, was a very bad idea. They weren't spouses anymore, at least in practice if not officially, and it would be blurring the boundaries and complicating matters between them. They were strictly allies now, though…

Though, Calypso had indeed said that sex was a tool that he should use, since it was important for Voldemort and him to 'fix' matters between them to present a united front during the war. And Calypso was a smart girl, wasn't she? The brightest he had ever known, even more than Hermione, because Calypso was sly as well, and ruthless and tough when required. Yes, he should follow Calypso's advice, she was rarely wrong.

On the other hand, what exactly would he be getting into if he intimately engaged himself with Voldemort again? It could end up in disaster, undermine his hard-earned position as a leader of the Dark independent from Voldemort. He wasn't Voldemort's spouse in the eyes of others anymore, not since the Death Eaters found out about their separation. He was now 'Lord Black', and if he…

Oh, who was he kidding? He wanted, nay, needed to get laid. And bugger the consequences. What consequences? It would simply be no-strings-attached sex, and that was that. And he had never lacked lust for Voldemort, no matter how pissed off he was, or how much he wanted to Avada the man.

Furthermore, there was also Voldemort's strange behavior towards him. Helping him out, in his way, not seriously attacking him during their meeting, giving him the muscle-soothing potion, and the bloody gentle caresses… Orion glanced at the wizard again, his eyes narrowing in musing evaluation. It could have been all purposely orchestrated, also considering the man's leading question.

Voldemort could have planned out everything beforehand, but he sincerely didn't really care. Even if his most scary suspicions were correct, there was little he could do about it. He had straightforwardly asked, and Voldemort had denied having done anything to him against his knowledge or will. Not that he had expected to be told otherwise, but it was clear that he wouldn't get the truth out of the wizard. And if Grindelwald had been right in his suspicions…

Orion clenched his jaw, looking away from the wizard with a deep, angered frown. Well, he could do nothing but wait, and if it happened, he would deal with it. But he wouldn't change his plans or goals. He would go on as if nothing had changed. And he would certainly directly participate in battles - that was something he wouldn't and couldn't give up. And he should stop thinking about it! He would cross that bridge if or when he got there, and that was the end of it. But if…

He gritted his teeth, and focused his gaze and attention back to Voldemort and to more irrelevant musings, or he would go mad if he kept thinking about the horrifying possibility. Though one thing was certain, he would make the wizard pay dearly if it was the case. Oh, yes, he would make him suffer, more than the wizard ever surely had. He wasn't someone to be meddled with, and it was high time that Voldemort got that through his head.

But, for now, sex… Yes, he found the idea more than acceptable. Use Voldemort for sex, why the bloody hell not?

Finally feeling determined, and mentally exhausted from his internal monologue, Orion openly gazed at the wizard, making no overtures but neither concealing the way he was piercingly staring at the man. However, to his chagrin, Voldemort didn't seem to be paying any attention to him. The wizard actually looked asleep. The man's eyes were closed, his chest rhythmically rose and fell, and his face looked relaxed, and Orion was having none of it.

A spur of indignant anger flared inside him, and he forcefully stabbed a finger into the wizard's ribs, repeatedly.

Some sort of hiss escaped from Voldemort's lips, before the wizard rolled to a side to face him, piercing him with irritated crimson eyes. _"What?"_

"What do you mean 'what'?" snapped Orion caustically, glowering at him. "What the hell are you doing, is what I want to know."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and hissed icily, _"Sleeping, as should have been plainly obvious to you, boy. Now lay still and quiet or I'll gag you and curse you into-_"

"Yeah, right," snorted Orion. "I don't feel like sleeping, so you aren't either." He shot him a cocky smirk, and added pointedly, "You shouldn't have given me the potion to make me feel better if you simply wanted me to doze off."

"_I can easily remedy that,"_ hissed Voldemort in a deadly, menacing tone of voice.

But Orion was utterly unperturbed, since the point of the matter was that the wizard was now awake and would remain so for a long while, if he had anything to say about it. Satisfied, he lazily rolled to a side to face the wizard as well, tucking an arm under his head, as he quizzically arched an eyebrow. "Why did you give me the potion? Why did you help me at all?"

"_You were whining and moaning in pain during your sleep,_" hissed Voldemort acidly, "_disturbing, in turn, MY sleep. So I solved the inconvenience._"

"Why take the trouble to nurse me?" interjected Orion, his smirk widening. "You could have slept somewhere else."

"_I didn't 'nurse' you, and this is MY bed,_" hissed Voldemort irritably, leveling him with a hard gaze. "_I will sleep nowhere else._"

"And yet," said Orion nonchalantly, "you decided to put me in here." He nastily grinned at him, and added loftily, "Why is that?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and hissed out harshly, _"Get to whatever you want to say, boy. You're wasting my precious resting time."_

Orion glared at him with annoyance, but he wasn't going to beat around the bush. He wasn't a girl, who usually waited for the other to take the first step. He was a man, and he would demand sex if he bloody well felt like it.

"I want to have sex," he snapped impatiently.

Voldemort merely arched an eyebrow, and hissed impassively, "_Do you now? And why should I accommodate you?"_

"Why not?" bit out Orion, glowering at him as he extended a hand to grab the wizard's nape. "Now you're the one wasting my bloody time, Tom. Let's just get on with it."

"_Beg for it," _hissed Voldemort silkily, his lips curling into a vicious smirk, while he quickly clutched Orion's hand before it reached its destiny.

"Stuff it, Tom," spat Orion angrily, leveling him with a narrowed glare, yanking his hand free before he swiftly rolled around to face the curtained windows, punching his pillow to supposedly make it fluffier as he sunk his head into it.

"_If I agree to this-"_

"If you agree?" snapped Orion over his shoulder. "You aren't doing me any favors!"

Abruptly, his chin was yanked to a side, forced to stare sideways at Voldemort, who was suddenly looming around him, piercing him with intense crimson eyes. "_IF I agree to this, it will change nothing. Make no mistakes, my little serpent, you have already cost me too much, and I already washed my hands from you. Do you understand?"_

Orion narrowed his eyes at him, and said crisply, "Of course."

"_Good," _hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes glinting with satisfaction, while a sly smirk tugged his lips.

Without sparing another second, the wizard wrapped his arms around him from behind, turning him around to make them lie chest to chest. But, abruptly, the wizard released him and clutched Orion's face with a tight grip, demanding in a low, sharp hiss, _"How long has it been for you?"_

"Again with the same bloody question?" retorted Orion irritably. "You know how long it has been, you were involved the last time."

"_I see,"_ hissed Voldemort, his smirk widening, while something glinted in his eyes which Orion couldn't quite decipher.

"And you?" asked Orion, narrowing his eyes at him, before he quickly shook his head and added indifferently, "Nevermind, I couldn't care less."

Voldemort quirked an eyebrow superiorly. "Indeed?"

"Yes," said Orion coolly, before he swiftly closed a hand around the back of the wizard's head, entwining his fingers with the man's black locks of hair.

He pulled their faces together and wasted no time in meshing his lips against the wizard's, forcing his tongue into the man's mouth. Unexpectedly, Voldemort's lips yielded to him, seemingly allowing him to take control of the kiss. Orion didn't think about it twice, and he wrapped one arm over the wizard's shoulders as he delved his tongue deeper, intensifying the kiss while he felt a wave of arousal flaring throughout his body. Even through the kiss, he could feel that Voldemort was smirking, but he honestly couldn't care less. This was about him satisfying his need, nothing else.

Orion briefly pulled away to take a breath of air, before he continued by nibbling along the wizard's jaw, moving to his neck, and then following to a pale ear, into which he whispered huskily, "Take your pants off."

Voldemort gazed at him with a mocking smirk on his lips, and he hissed silkily, "_In a hurry, are we? You sound quite needy-_"

"Save it," snapped Orion briskly, paying the wizard no mind while he hooked his fingers on the waistband of the wizard's pants, starting to tug them down. "I don't want to 'chat', and even less listen to your disparaging remarks."

With utter impassivity, Voldemort merely raised a hand, but as soon as Orion saw it, he clutched the wizard's wrist, and shot him a large smirk. "No, take them off without using a spell. Do it manually, I want to watch you."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him, his distaste for the command clear in his expression. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, the wizard obeyed. Piercing Orion with his gaze, he started lowering his pants, and Orion understood the motive for Voldemort's acquiescence when he detected that the wizard was observing him as intently as he was observing the man. Though, the wizard was obviously garnering some form of entertainment from it, given the jeering amusement glinting in his crimson eyes.

Without giving a pixie's arse about how the dark wizard persisted in mocking him in whatever way he could, Orion kept closely observing the man, only helping out by yanking the bed covers away from them before they became a nuisance by entangling themselves around their legs.

When the black, silk pajama pants were finally discarded, he blatantly trailed his gaze over the wizard's body, with evident appreciation. The man's body was overcastted in shadows, given that the darkness of the room was only broken by the dim moonlight filtering through the heavy curtains. However, he could make out the long, hard lines of the wizard's torso and long, sturdy legs.

Orion slowly grinned at him, while he inched his way forward, ghosting his lips over Voldemort's, as he whispered cockily, "You are very good at obeying my orders, Tom. Pity we didn't discover this earlier. Things could have ended better between us."

Before giving the wizard a chance to hiss out something undoubtedly cruelly hurtful, he locked their mouths together, plunging his tongue into a deep, demanding kiss, as he pulled a leg over Voldemort's waist, hooking it on the man's lower back. He bucked against the wizard's taller body, and a groan of pleasure was muffled in their kiss when their arousals rubbed together.

Suddenly, when Voldemort started taking control over the kiss by battling his tongue against Orion's and tightly wrapping an arm over him, pulling him even closer, Orion firmly pulled away with a pant for air.

"Slow down," murmured Orion, whilst he tried to find a way to subtly gain the upper hand.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him, leveling him with a harsh gaze, and hissed sharply, _"I'm not in a mood to play games, boy -"_

"_Hush," _hissed Orion calmly, a peculiar and tempting idea entering his mind, _"and let me try something I'm curious about."_

His gaze locked on the elegant silver pendant dangling sideways from Voldemort's neck, with the ornate bejeweled B engraved on it. He stretched out a hand and his fingertips slowly caressed the pendant, his heart suddenly pounding fast in his chest when he felt a familiar pull tugging at him. The little piece of soul inside him felt as it was stirring and rising, as if sensing the closeness of its partner in the pendant-horcrux.

He felt Voldemort stiffening, and Orion peered up at him, not quite knowing what the man was thinking, since his facial features were completely expressionless. Nevertheless, the wizard's crimson eyes were intensely staring at him, and then followed his every move when he used his free hand to grab Voldemort's, molding his fingers over the wizard's longer ones and directing them at the hand he was using to touch the pendant.

He made Voldemort's fingertips graze the knuckles of his left hand, until reaching the invisible-glamoured ring he had always wore since their bonding ceremony – the Slytherin heirloom he had been given by the wizard, with the shape of two intertwined serpents, one with emerald eyes, the other with ruby ones, which contained another of Voldemort's pieces of soul.

Their fingertips reached it at the same time, and Orion's eyes widened with astounded wonder when he felt the tugging sensation becoming more powerful, the little piece of soul inside him climbing, rising upwards, as blood seemed to rush faster through his veins, something strongly vibrating inside him. And with wide eyes he saw his own magical aura strongly reacting to the connection; black, rippling tendrils swirling around his fingers, seemingly reaching out towards the pendant he was caressing, towards Voldemort's chest, as they also coiled over the invisible ring he wore.

All of a sudden, he was feeling lightheaded, his mind faintly dizzy, while he was encompassed by a sense of enveloping warmth and languorous contentment, accompanied by a pulsing, mounting force that seemed to roll through his body.

A strange sound escaped from Voldemort's throat, and Orion glanced up at him with glazed eyes, never breaking their connection, no matter the strange sensations, still caressing the pendant, the man's chest, and his own bonding ring. He couldn't quite figure out what Voldemort was feeling, or his reaction to it, but it was clear that the man had to be feeling something even stronger than what he did, since it was the wizard's horcruxes they were touching, forming a link between them all.

The strange feelings seemed to intensify the longer the connection was maintained, and Orion felt as if everything was moving in slow motion, themselves included. As if they were being wrapped over by a mantle of plush and ever so familiar warmth, a peculiar yet powerful feeling of completeness, and a vibrating sensation of climbing power. His own magical core seemed to be reacting strongly to it, thrumming agitatedly inside him, making his exterior magical aura visibly thicken, pulsing erratically.

The myriad of sensations briefly took his breath away, but he would have been unable to pull away even if he wanted to. He felt mesmerized by what he was feeling, and he suddenly wanted to feel it more intensely.

"Release control over your magical core," he breathed out, peering into Voldemort's unreadable crimson eyes. "I want to feel your aura against mine."

He felt the wizard doing so when he saw a veil of pulsating darkness covering the man's body, meshing with his own denser, blacker and wilder one as he pressed his body closer to the wizard's. The moment he did, all the sensations seemed to escalate, and he panted out a breath as he gazed at his hands pressed against Voldemort's chest.

His left hand was pressed over the pendant, fingertips stretched out to touch the wizard's skin underneath. Voldemort's own hand was pressed over Orion's, fingers touching Orion's bonding ring, while Orion's other hand was placed on top of that, completing the circle. All of it was meshed by their combined auras, which seemed to be cocooning them in thrumming blackness and rippling warmth.

The differences between their auras was evident, and Orion caught sight of a dark frown spreading over Voldemort's face as the man's crimson gaze took notice of it. But the man's expression lasted a few seconds, turning back to a mask of impassivity. Yet Orion knew that the wizard had to be affected by the sensations nonetheless.

Abruptly, he saw Voldemort's eyes narrowing quizzically, and before he knew it, he felt the man's free hand stretching out towards his face, long fingers soon trailing over his scar. Orion gasped, his eyes widening, everything seeming to intensify further at the wizard's touch. Even Voldemort's own expression looked momentarily surprised, the crimson eyes imperceptibly widening, yet the man didn't pull his fingers away.

Orion bore his glazed, glinting eyes into Voldemort's, panting loudly, as he felt the connection intensifying, the pull becoming stronger, deeper, relentless, his own magic rushing throughout him. He felt as if he was in the midst of a spinning whirlwind; his head dizzied, his heart thundering in his chest, their dark magic visibly swirling and meshing together along their bodies, darkness enveloping them, and a feeling of belonging, contentment and blissful peacefulness suffusing all his senses.

Mesmerized, Orion gazed at their bodies pressed against each other and at the intertwined auras covering them. And suddenly, laughter bubbled from his lips, as he experienced all the feelings relentlessly rolling and spreading throughout him, as if he was riding a rollercoaster of intense sensations.

Delighted laughter kept springing from his lips, while his fingers kept caressing the bonding ring, the pendant, and Voldemort's chest, continuously, alternatively, incessantly, as he felt Voldemort's fingers grazing his forehead.

"It's amazing," he chuckled out, shooting a glance at Voldemort. "Do you feel it, Tom?" He shook his head, trying to clear it, and glanced down at their auras, breathing out, "It's bloody beautiful. Do you see it? Do you feel it?"

At the wizard's silence, he glanced up at him again, seeing a strange expression on the man's face. He was about to ask if something was wrong, but his words were muffled when Voldemort's lips crashed against his. His eyes fluttered close, and he moaned into the deep, hungry kiss when Voldemort wrapped a strong arm over his back, pressing them tightly together, as his mind felt as if it was spiraling upwards into blissful plushness. Every thought flew away from his mind, feeling too far-off to do anything but drown in the sensations flowing over him.

Orion distantly heard Voldemort murmuring a spell, and then a tingle spread over his lower back. As if in slow motion, he felt the wizard's lips grazing down his neck, then kissing along his collarbone, as a strong hand grabbed his leg, hooking it around the wizard's waist. And, suddenly, his back arched and a groan was ripped from his throat when he felt the wizard entering him with a long, deep thrust. A pinch of pain flared from his lower body at being stretched so suddenly without preparation, but it soon ebbed away, as the man continued burying himself inside him, more slowly and gently.

Soon, he was being held tightly in place, one of the man's hands clutching the leg he had wrapped around the wizard, the other grabbing the back of his neck, as Voldemort kept pushing into him in slow, rocking thrusts, while the wizard's lips attacked his neck again. And Orion felt too out of it to do anything but move in synchrony with the man's thrusts, their undulating motions rhythmically slow and passionately languorous.

He lifted his hands and ran them down the wizard's back, feeling the strong muscles there flexing with each thrust. And he finally tightly winded his fingers into Voldemort's hair, throwing his head back as he met each of the wizard's plunges, making the man push in inside him as deep as he could. Suddenly, when rolling waves of pleasure started surging through his body, he began feeling weightless and dizzy with the crescendo of meshing sensations.

Everything seemed to be merging, heightening and fusing together; the slow rocking of their hips, the feeling of the wizard moving in and out of him, the flare of pleasure that flashed through his body as his hard arousal tightly rubbed against the wizard's stomach, the heated kisses trailing along his outstretched neck, the rising fluttering of the piece of soul inside him, the warmth of the body undulating against his, the tugging pull from the pendant pressed between their chest, the familiar tingle coursing from his bonding ring, and the cocoon-like feeling of their auras enveloping them in cuddling darkness.

Before he knew it, all seemed to erupt in explosive bursts of pleasure, and a loud moan escaped from his lips as he heard Voldemort voicing his own release, while something warm flooded his insides. Finally slowly opening his eyes, Orion gazed at the wizard who was still tightly holding him in his arms, catching sight of the sheen of perspiration covering the wizard's hard chest, the fast breaths coming out from the man's mouth, the glazed over, half-lidded crimson eyes, and also of the strange expression that spread over the wizard's face as the man gazed back at him.

He didn't quite know how to interpret it; it could be pensiveness tinged with a flicker of possessiveness, or unease and wariness meshed with a pinch of cold calculation, or a mix of all.

Nevertheless, Orion didn't have the presence of mind to do anything but mumble faintly, "T'was amazing."

And a second later he didn't fight it when he felt a mantle of darkness wrapping over his awareness, everything quickly darkening as he slumped limply on the bed.

* * *

Orion opened his eyes with a snap when a surge of pain thundered throughout his body. Letting out a grunt, he tightly wrapped an arm over his stomach, before he cried out and arched his back when another bout of pain flared along his backside. Grumbling under his breath, he blearily peered at his surroundings.

Given the sunlight that filtered through the curtains, it was already the afternoon of the following day. He felt a flicker of embarrassment as he remembered how he had blacked out after having reached his peak with Voldemort. And he hadn't lasted too long either, to his chagrin.

Nevertheless, another wave of rippling pain forced him to focus on his present situation, making him realize that he was feeling worse than before. His body felt feverishly hot, there was a persistent trembling of his limbs, and his head pounded as if he had been ran over by the Knight Bus. To his relief, he felt clean, the only thing sticky being his own feverish perspiration that seemed to sheen over every inch of his skin. And to his surprise, he was also clothed with a shrunken pair of Voldemort's pants.

However, the dark wizard was nowhere to be seen, and Orion was quite certain that the man had woken up very early and was still presently working on war-plots, somewhere in the Manor. He doubted that he would see him anytime soon.

This was confirmed when he saw several items on top of the nightstand at his side; a tray containing two bowls with food and a cold glass of water, several flasks of what he recognized as the pain-soothing potion that Voldemort had fed him last night, and –to his increasing surprise- his two wands.

He didn't know if the latter meant that Voldemort was now expecting him to leave the Manor. And to be honest, he really didn't care, because he was going nowhere. He felt extremely ill and doubted if he could take one step without curling in on himself and whimpering. And, after last night, he definitely wasn't going anywhere. He wanted a repeat performance.

He eyed the bowls with steamy food with revulsion, feeling a wave of sickly nausea twisting his stomach. And he glanced at the potion flasks with yearning, since he knew that he couldn't take one so soon, given that he didn't want to become addicted to yet another potion. He would have to wait until nightfall to drown down another dose, and it would at least help him to go asleep without waking up due to painful aches. He didn't have any other option but to bear the potion-withdrawal symptoms during the day.

Orion shakily stretched out a hand towards the glass of water, and he almost knocked everything to the floor when a sudden 'pop' made him jerk up in startlement. His sudden move made a wave of dizzy sickness spin in his head, and he slumped back down on the bed, slowly massaging his temples.

At last, he slowly opened his eyes again, and blinked twice when he blurrily saw a greenish face nose-to-nose with his.

"Dobby?" he wheezed out, blinking again to see if he was now having hallucinations of the most unexpected kind.

He was given a wide, relieved smile, before the house-elf pulled away, still standing on top of the bed, bent over him.

"Dobby found master!" said the house-elf happily, proudly puffing out his chin chest. Then an annoyed expression spread over his greenish features, and the creature grumbled, "Master's nasty, bossy friend threatened Dobby. I is looking for Master anyway. Dobby don't need to be threatened-"

"Calypso and her father are already at Potter Manor, then? Hang on, how did you get in…" Orion trailed off, and stared at the house-elf with wide eyes, before he breathed out, "You still have access through the wards…" He shook his head, and mumbled under his breath, "This is Lucius' doing."

This piece of news was very interesting in his opinion. The sly wizard had left a tiny loophole when passing control of Malfoy Manor's wards to Voldemort. And it was most significant. Through Snape, Lucius knew that Draco was with him, and the wizard also knew that Dobby had become his house-elf some time ago when Narcissa wanted to get rid of what she considered to be a pest in her home.

This was a sign that Lucius was willing to align himself with him, for Draco's sake. But it also left him wondering what other plots the wizard had, for it was obvious that Lucius was no longer loyal to Voldemort after what had happened.

"I is done what Master Orion ordered," said Dobby emphatically, suddenly presenting in front of Orion's nose an enormous stack of what seemed to be countless letters amidst some wizarding newspapers.

Orion's eyebrows shot upwards at the sheer amount of correspondence, before he caught sight of the Daily Prophet peeking out. He slowly took the bundle, and grunted as he laid all of it on top of the bed covers.

Warily, he glanced at the closed double doors of the bedroom, and said quietly, "If you sense someone coming down the hall outside, I want you to instantly disapparate." He waved a hand at the letters and newspapers. "And take all of this with you. But for now, give me some time to read them, in case I need to send a reply." He speared the house-elf with a glance, and added gravely, "You did well today, but you mustn't come here again to see me or to bring me anything. It's too risky. No one must know that you still have access to Malfoy Manor. Do you understand?"

"Dobby understands," said the house-elf adamantly, repeatedly bobbing his head up and down. "And I wait till Master Orion is done."

"Make yourself comfortable," said Orion warmly, invitingly patting the place beside him.

The house-elf beamed a dazzling smile at him, his large eyes watery with gratefulness, as he quickly sat on top of the bed covers, with his short, thin legs crossed over each other.

After gulping down the glass of cold, fresh water, and then slowly massaging his temples, feeling the nausea and feverish sickness momentarily ebbing away, Orion proceeded to peruse the Daily Prophet before attempting to check his mail. He soon discovered why he had received such a flabbergasting amount of letters when his gaze landed on the Daily Prophet's front page.

There it was in all its splendor: a wizarding picture of Grindelwald's statue, beautifully sparkling under rays of sunlight, in all its icy, blazing glory, perched on top of the highest peak of the highest mountain in the Alps, while puzzled and exasperated–looking wizards –who had to be from the Swiss Ministry of Magic- moved around it, apparently casting spells at it.

Orion felt a trickle of somber grief and melancholic sadness, as his fingertips brushed the picture, thinking about what it had represented to him, but he then smiled widely. And his smile grew even larger as he read the main article. It was just as he had imagined, and what he had impatiently been waiting and hoping for.

The article was riddled with speculations about the origin of the monument, the reason behind it, and about its possible creator. And for once, even the wildest speculation was right. As happened nowadays, light wizards blamed him for everything. And in this case, they were right. After all, he had blatantly left his magical imprint on the statue. It had been detected, and the Swiss Ministry officials had also confirmed that under the monument laid the ashes of one Gellert Grindelwald. And given what the article said, the uproar in the wizarding community had been instantaneous and very frenzied.

Scrimgeour had issued a public statement promising that an investigation was already underway to determine the precise date and cause of Gellert Grindelwald's death, as well as finding out if their main suspect –Orion Black- was indeed guilty of one more crime. The Minister also reassured that considerable efforts, and all of the Aurors' resources, were being focused on capturing him, to be interrogated and then made to stand trial for what had happened at Hogwarts two days ago and now also for another count of murder. But Scrimgeour refused to comment on the subject of whether 'Orion Black' was indeed Grindelwald's grandson, as speculated and by now believed by everyone.

Supremely satisfied, Orion smirked as he folded the Daily Prophet, while he rested back on the bed's headboard. The state of affairs in the light wizard community was simply beautiful. It was pure chaos: political recriminations and power-struggles; civil unease, protests, and outcries; and wrapping it all like a powerful undercurrent, wary fear.

Orion slowly licked his lips, his green eyes glinting, his smirk widening. He could taste it in his mouth – their terrified fear of him. And it tasted like heaven.

Now that everyone realized that he had killed a former Dark Lord –his own grandfather, at that- and allied himself with another he had already felled once, they truly feared him. To them, he was no longer a problematic boy trying to play in the big leagues. They considered him to be a greater threat than Voldemort himself. The prophecy was no longer seen like a ray of hope, but one of doom. It was perfect; the grounds ripe for plucking.

At last, he perused the countless letters, seeing that most of them were from dark wizards and witches he had never met before, from all over Europe, only their surnames sometimes ringing a bell. And mixed between those letters, he found two missives that he welcomed, though he was surprised by them nonetheless.

One was from Cedric Diggory, demanding the explanations he had promised to the young Auror when asking him to spare Draco Malfoy from being captured, in exchange for the life debt Cedric owed him. The other was from Fleur Delacour, who more subtly and gently asked how much of what was printed in the newspapers was true.

In the end, he didn't reply to any letters. There wasn't anything useful he could say to Cedric or Fleur. They were on the Light's side and he was on the Dark's. Despite the friendship they had formed during the Triwizard Tournament, he knew that nothing he could say could make them accept his chosen allegiances. They already knew the truth, even if they didn't want to believe it. And if they didn't, they would get their answers and see it for themselves in the battlefield.

Finally, the last letter he read was from Remus, confirming the date and time for the meeting with the Alphas of continental Europe. He fleetingly remembered that Voldemort had said that there would be a Dark Allies Meeting on Sunday evening. So it seemed that Sunday would be a long day for him, considering that his meeting with the Alphas was scheduled for that day as well, in the afternoon. It still gave him time to go from one meeting to the next.

Deciding to get through all of it in one day, he waved a hand, conjuring an inked quill and a piece of parchment, and wrote a short letter to Snape, followed by one to Roman Komorov. To Snape, he asked the wizard to surreptitiously inform Lucius that he would meet the man at the Headmaster's office in Durmstrang, right after the Dark Allies meeting. He had no doubt that Lucius knew how to make his way to the school without being detected.

To Komorov, he informed him of such meeting and asked if it could take place in the wizard's office, as well as to make sure that no one in the school found out about it –be it professors who spent their holidays there, or any Danish Auror who was surveilling the school.

He shot Dobby a glance, who seemed to be entertaining himself by puffing out pillows and rearranging the bed covers, and asked, "Did you already bring Sylvana and Ares to Potter Manor?"

"Dobby did, Master Orion," said the house-elf, with a cheerful expression on his face. "Dobby always does what good master says."

"Good, thanks," said Orion, warmly smiling at him as he handed over the letter to Komorov. "Then use Ares to send this letter." He gave him the one address to Snape, and added quietly, "And I want you to deliver this personally to Severus Snape. He must be somewhere in this manor. Do it when he's alone, and without being seen or detected by anyone else."

Dobby hid the letters inside his tea cozy, and bounced up to his feet, as he said excitedly, "I do everything. Master can count on Dobby."

"Thanks again," said Orion with a grin. "Ah, and tell Calypso that I'll be back in a few days. I'll explain everything to her then..."

He trailed off when Dobby snapped his head around, an alert expression spreading over the creature's face. In the bat on an eyelash, the house-elf popped away, leaving nothing behind, all the letters and stack of newspapers disappearing as if into thin air.

Knowing what that meant, Orion instantly burrowed under the bed covers, closing his eyes, pretending to be dozing off, just before he heard the door being opened.

He heard two pairs of footsteps approaching the bed, one determined and sharp, the other almost inaudible since it seemed so subdued and servile. Something light abruptly landed on his bed covers, and Orion cracked an eye open, grunting and slowly stretching his arms as if having been just woken up.

First, he saw Voldemort towering by his bedside, then he saw the Daily Prophet that had been thrown at him, and afterwards he saw the house-elf standing rock-still behind the wizard.

The creature was very old, the oldest he had ever seen. And he was also heavily scarred, the wrinkled greenish skin a latticework of old, badly-healed wounds.

"Who is he?" said Orion with a frown, meeting Voldemort's penetrating gaze.

"_It is one of my house-elves," _hissed Voldemort sharply._ "I don't have the time or inclination to look after you, boy. It will."_

"Fine," said Orion with a shrug of his shoulders, shooting a glance at the creature. "What's your name?"

"_It," _replied Voldemort crisply, the house-elf not beeping a word.

Orion snapped his gaze back to the wizard, and interjected with disbelief, "It? That's not a name, and I was asking him-"

"_You know that I don't allow my house-elves to give themselves names,"_ interrupted Voldemort in a low, impatient and aggravated hiss. _"And you can ask all you want, it will never reply. It's mute." _

"You cut off his tongue?" snapped Orion angrily, before he held up a hand and huffed, slumping back against his pillow. "Nevermind, I don't want to know." He gazed up at the wizard, and added shortly, "What do you want?"

As a mode of reply, Voldemort's crimson eyes pointedly glanced at the newspaper lying on top of Orion's bed covers, and Orion took it in his hands, frowning and acting as if it was the first time he read it. Then, he impassively set it to a side, and nonchalantly glanced up at the wizard again, quirking an eyebrow expectantly.

"_Are you satisfied with such news?" _hissed Voldemort icily, piercing him with narrowed eyes, closely observing him while looming over.

"_Very,"_ hissed Orion, widely grinning at him. He patted the place beside him, and shot the wizard a salacious glance. _"Come, come, and reward me with a kiss. You know the uproar I have caused benefits you as well."_

"Dismissed, come back later," said Voldemort sharply to the house-elf, who instantly popped away without a sound.

The wizard turned to narrowly gaze at Orion, before he impassively sat on the edge of the bed, besides Orion's prone form. One of Voldemort's hands shot out, and Orion's chin was suddenly tightly gripped, as the wizard pulled their faces close, and hissed harshly, _"What are you plotting, boy?"_

"_Us winning the war in England,"_ hissed Orion, shooting him an impishly smug smirk, _"and then conquering the rest of the wizarding world, of course."_

Voldemort released Orion's face with a low scoff, and seeing that the wizard wasn't taking matters into his own hands, Orion grinned up at him, and silkily hissed, "_Now kiss me_."

The wizard glanced at him, slowly arching an eyebrow. But in the end, Voldemort did so, as persuasively asked of him.

* * *

The following days seemed to fuse and indistinguishably mesh together for Orion. As he had expected, the pain-soothing potion's effects grew weaker each time he drank it. Thus, he was not saved from feeling the full brunt of the withdrawal symptoms. His days and hours passed among dizzying and sweating fevers, relentless and crippling bouts of intense pains, waves of shaky tremors, rolls of sickly and gut-wrenching nauseas, and flashes of muscle-constricting aches. It was hell.

Nevertheless, whenever any of the symptoms abated for a short while, Orion forced himself to practice how to control his newly acquired level of magical power by casting simple spells. And slowly, he began learning again how to restrain his expanded magical core.

Sometimes he was aware when Voldemort paid him a short visit during the day. And sometimes they talked, mostly about the war or about the information that the wizard conveyed to him, regarding what was being printed in the newspapers. And slowly, Orion came to realize that they had reached some form of peaceful truce between them.

He was still unsure of what had been the catalyst, but the point was that the wizard was behaving more calmly around him; without hissing threats and without promising bodily harm. In fact, it was as if they had become friends once again – of a peculiar kind, but their interaction seemed as friendly as it could be when the other party was Voldemort.

Furthermore, the wizard spent every night with him. Unsolicited and without Orion having asked for it, Voldemort came into the bed late at night. And always, the wizard took him, with soothing caresses and slow, deep thrusts, almost gently, as if afraid of harming him in his weakened condition. That, and the new sense of comradeship between them, bewildered Orion.

But two things didn't escape his notice: the occasional calculating and devious glints in Voldemort's eyes when they interacted during the day; and the strange expression on the wizard's face when they slept together at night. During sex, Voldemort rarely spoke, and when they finished the wizard gazed at him with a weird intensity, always with that same strange expression on his face – like the one during their first night. And it was precisely what Orion didn't know how to interpret.

However, whatever improvements seemed to be occurring in their relationship, Orion still had a tough time. He spent most of his daytime groaning, grunting, and rolling inside his bed, while being nursed by Voldemort's house-elf. The creature indeed never spoke a word, but nonetheless took special care of Orion; patiently spoon-feeding him some soup, gently helping him to the bathroom, and washing him with a wet cloth and elvish magic.

Orion was fleetingly aware of it, and usually some of his foggy thoughts turned towards the house-elf. Which, in turn, inevitably made him think of Hermione and the girl's ideas about house-elf liberation. He had never fully agreed with her on that subject, knowing that house-elves were truly happy serving others. But he did realize that some exceptions could be made. Especially for severely mistreated house-elves like the one who tended to him, or for weird isolated cases of house-elves with a quirky and rebellious mind of their own, like Dobby. And he decided that yes, he would have to do something about that when the war was over – if they were the victors, that is.

But thinking about house-elves and Hermione, had him thinking too about the mind-possession curse he had casted on her. He knew it was too soon to make use of it. Very few days had passed and it had to be handled delicately and carefully, since he didn't want to break her. Moreover, he had already given her his instructions when he cursed her, telling her to find the Treatise Dumbledore had written, to read it, and also to find a way to be accepted into the Order of the Phoenix.

Given what he had read in the newspapers a while ago, he knew that the later couldn't be that difficult, since the Light was heavily recruiting and needed every able body. Furthermore, without Dumbledore leading the Order, and given that Moody was taking care of the recruiting aspect of the organization, it was more viable that she would be accepted. He would have to find out soon and start fully planning how to use her.

And when he thought of her and what he had done to her by cursing her with such a spell, he realized something that made him wonder about himself. He now considered her a pawn, one he was fond of, but a pawn nonetheless, expendable and to be used. And even though it still somewhat repulsed him, he realized that in that he was starting to understand Dumbledore's ways.

Finally, at last, Orion woke up on Saturday morning without issuing a groan of pain. In fact, he even felt refreshed. There were no tremors running along his limbs and no stabbing, painful aches wrecking his body. Cheerfully bouncing out of the bed, he wasted no time in dunking himself in a blissful, warm, bubble bath. He indolently spent his morning lazying around in the bathtub, without thinking about anything at all except pampering himself for a while, given that the following day would be a long one indeed, full of important meetings.

However, by the afternoon, he was already feeling restless, bored without having anything to do. He had tucked his wands inside their holsters, and then clothed himself in his own robes, which had been washed and pressed by Voldemort's house-elf. And Orion was about to take a stroll around the manor, to see who he found around to pester and amuse himself with –hopefully Snape-, when the doors parted open and Voldemort strode inside the bedroom.

"_You're feeling better, I see,"_ hissed Voldemort placidly, gazing down at him when reaching his side.

"Yup," said Orion with a large grin, demonstratively flexing his arms.

"_Good," _hissed Voldemort, his eyes slightly narrowing as he continued, observing him intently._ "We're having a Dark Allies Meeting tomorrow."_

"I know. I remember," said Orion, shooting him a quizzical glance. "And we agreed that I could tell them what I wished. I'm not going to deny being Grindelwald's grandson, Tom. I thought I had made that clear."

Voldemort waved a hand dismissively. _"Tell them whatever you want."_

Frowning, Orion peered up at him, wondering what was on the wizard's mind.

"_What are you planning on doing from now on?"_ hissed Voldemort at last, his tone demanding and sharp, as the wizard closely gazed at him. _"And where will you stay? No place except this manor is safe for you."_

With a sigh, Orion shook his head, and replied firmly, "I want to be with my friends. I will stay at Rosier Manor with Calypso. And I'm planning to plot the war with you and our allies. You know that I'm seeing Remus and MY werewolf allies tomorrow. I told you that. And Remus, his Beta and I will attend the Dark Allies Meeting afterwards, and report any news and decisions made." He speared him with a glance, and added gravely, "And I want my Elite to start attending the Meetings-"

Voldemort interrupted him with a derisive scoff, arching an eyebrow mockingly. _"Children playing to be full grown wizards. I will not have them mucking about-"_

"They are my followers," snapped Orion crisply, narrowing his eyes at him. "They need to participate. They will be leading the rest of my DA during the war, so they have to be involved during our planning sessions. Your Inner Circle attends the meetings, so should mine."

"_If it amuses you, I will allow it,"_ hissed Voldemort imperiously. He leveled at him a hard gaze, and added in a dangerously low tone, _"But one toe out of line, and I will not be merciful with them-"_

"I assure you that they know how to behave," interrupted Orion icily, taking offense. "All of them are purebloods, they know the protocols that must be followed."

"_You better hope that it is so,"_ hissed Voldemort dismissively. _"Now tell me, when your school holidays are over, are you-"_

"I'm not going back to Durmstrang, if that's what you're asking," interjected Orion, sighing as he carded his fingers through his hair. "I'm not attending my last year. I want to spend as much time as possible planning the war with you, and I can study for my PRIMEs on my own. I'm planning on taking them in a month or so. And…"

He trailed off, knowing that the wizard wouldn't like what he had to say next. But it was better to come out with it once and for all, instead of having the man discovering it on his own.

Orion took in a deep breath, and pierced the wizard with his eyes, as he continued gravely, "I'll be going to Zraven Citadel, in a week. I need to reestablish my alliance with them, since we'll need them for the war, and…er, well…" He gazed at him uneasily, and said quietly, "I didn't know about it until recently, but it seems that I'm Lezander's... um, his-"

"_You're the half-breed's lifemate,"_ hissed Voldemort impassively. The wizard sneered at him when Orion gaped at the man. _"And this should matter to me for some reason?"  
_

Staring at him with round eyes, Orion snapped his mouth shut, before he shot him a narrowed gaze, and bit out, "How the hell did you know? When did you find out-"

Voldemort interrupted him with a scoff, and hissed jeeringly, _"I've known about vampires and all their little secret ways before you were even born, boy. And if you indeed discovered it recently, then you're more obtuse than I imagined." _He narrowed his eyes at him, and added coldly,_ "The half-breed marked you, gave you his blood, and was willing to sacrifice his own life to save yours at the Department of Mysteries. Anyone who knows anything about vampires would have drawn the right conclusions-"_

"All of that happened before our bonding ceremony," spluttered out Orion, staring at him fixedly. "Are you telling me that you have known about it since then?" His hands balled into fists, and he added in an angry snap, "You should have told me the moment you figured it out!"

"_I don't see why," _hissed Voldemort indifferently. _"It's no business and no concern of mine what your ties are with the half-breed."_

"Bollocks!" bit out Orion, bristling. "You bloody knew way before I found out about it, and you purposely…" He angrily shook his head, taking in a depth breath to calm down. Once he managed it, he closely regarded the wizard, and demanded quietly, "So you're fine with me going to Zraven Citadel and seeing Lezander?"

"_Why wouldn't I?"_ hissed Voldemort calmly, gazing down at him. _"The way I see it, I'm sending one of my allies to whore himself out to reach a favorable agreement with the vampires." _He smirked at him, and jeered with a vicious glint in his crimson eyes, "_What I wonder is how far you will go. How many times and how widely will you spread your legs-"_

"Shut up!" spat Orion seething, having his wand's tip instantly pressed against the wizard's neck. He shot him a look of loathing, before he sweetly smiled at him and sneered silkily, "How far I will go is no concern of yours, is it? But rest assured, that if I decide to complete my bond with him, you'll be the first to be informed. After all, what kind of ally would I be if I didn't tell you just how deeply their allegiance to me runs and what I did to earn it? I'll promise to tell you all the juicy details, if you want."

With a swift motion, he tucked his wand away, and nonchalantly glanced up at Voldemort, who was simply sneering at him. Knowing that, by the looks of things, the discussion could end up badly if the wizard decided to get cruel and nasty, Orion chose to make a safe retreat. They hadn't had an argument during the whole week - a record by all means. And he wasn't willing to allow their 'truce' to be shattered to pieces.

Before giving the man a chance to say anything else, he grabbed the back of the wizard's neck and gave him a hard kiss. After deeply plunging his tongue inside the wizard's mouth and working his lips against his, he released Voldemort, feeling the wizard's taste lingering in his mouth, and said shortly, "I'm leaving. I'll see you tomorrow."

Without further ado, he swiftly closed his eyes, deeply concentrating, and instantly disapparating away. He briefly felt the brush of the manor's wards, just before he was being squeezed through space, and he finally popped open his eyes when he felt his feet landing on asphalt.

* * *

Orion loudly exhaled, glancing around the seedy alley of the Leaky Cauldron, thankfully empty at that hour. And closing his eyes again, he disapparated once more, now to Potter Manor, knowing that his trail couldn't be followed after the triangulation.

The moment he landed on the receiving hall of the manor, he eagerly went looking for Calypso, having much to tell her – mostly about Arian, since he hadn't had the chance of mentioning the light wizard to her, and about his 'chat' with the Spirits. And he also knew that he had to give her a full account of what had happened at Hogwarts, since she hadn't seemed satisfied when he had given her the summarized version when they met after Vagnarov's funerary ceremony. Moreover, now he had the good news that Voldemort and him had 'made peace', after a fashion. He was certain that Calypso would be ecstatic to hear about it.

However, to his disappointment and confusion, he soon discovered that Calypso and her father had left the manor just an hour before. It was Daisy who informed him of it, since Calypso had had the presence of mind to ask the house-elf to pass on the message.

Apparently, Romulus and she had been summoned by Voldemort, which puzzled Orion exceedingly. She wasn't a Death Eater, so Voldemort had no business summoning her. Furthermore, since they had left an hour ago, it meant that Calypso and her father had been at Malfoy Manor before he had left it. And, it also meant that Voldemort had summoned them long before he had seen the wizard.

All of it was very intriguing, since he didn't have a clue about the reason behind it. But in the end, he simply decided to wait until she got back to find out what was going on.

Therefore, he went straight to check on Draco. Even though the young wizard was still unconscious, and hadn't regained it at any point according to Daisy, Draco looked visibly better, to his immense relief. There was now some color to his cheeks and lips, and his breathing pattern was calm and even. Orion was certain that the young wizard would soon wake up, in a couple of weeks, at the most.

Feeling marginally more cheerful, he decided that he had to take the bull by its horns and finally see Sylvana. It had almost been a year since he had last seen her, when he had to leave her at Black Manor all by her own since snake familiars weren't allowed at Hogwarts. Therefore, he was quite sure that the snake would be spitting fire at him – she had quite a nasty temper. But it had to be done, and he would solicitously pamper her while he waited for Calypso and her dad to come back.

He was making his way to his master bedroom, knowing that Sylvana would surely be dozing off on his bed, when suddenly an intense flare of pain rippled through his body.

With a cry, Orion crashed painfully against the floor when his knees buckled under him. Panting loudly and heavily, he tried to shakily stand up again, but another wave of stabbing pain wrecked along his body, making him double over and land on his knees.

Squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught, he bit his lips and gritted his teeth, while his mind frantically swirled, incoherent thoughts rushing by, as he tried to figure out what was happening. Was this a relapse? Hadn't the potion-withdrawal symptoms ended yet?

Suddenly, as the pain seemed to increase in rolling, blazing waves, he felt a scorching fire sizzling around one of his fingers. With insurmountable effort, Orion cracked open an eye, and then both his eyes flew wide open when he saw a white light glowing around the ring finger of his left hand.

Letting out a gritted gasp, he waved his other hand over his left one, while he hissed the counter spell to the parseltongue-invisibility charm. The Slytherin wedding ring shimmered into sight, increasingly glowing further as the ravaging pain intensified through his body. Orion felt as if he was being burned alive, and he frenziedly clawed at his finger, trying to get the ring off.

Abruptly, a blinding white light blasted off from the ring, and Orion screamed and writhed on the floor as the pain became unbearable, feeling darkness closing in all around him, his mind withdrawing from awareness, his vision fading away.

The last thing he saw was Calypso popping before him, a frantic expression on her face, as she urgently cried out something to him.


	29. The breaking & the Angel

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

This is a short chapter but a fast update. And I would greatly appreciate it if you told me what kind of things you'd like to read in the next chapter, that would help me immensely in writing it more quickly. Thanks!

A reviewer asked if I could write a scene from Voldemort's point of view. I know this would indeed clarify a lot of matters, but that's just the crux of the matter. Everything would be too simple and boring if we knew all the things that Voldemort has been plotting and if we knew how he really felt about stuff. So I'm sorry to say that I will not write a scene like that. We'll keep knowing only what Orion finds out about or suspects.

Ok, now I'm going to rant about something that one or two reviewers keep bringing up and which irritates me a bit. So bear with me *winks* If you don't like gay sex scenes, then don't read them. Besides the point that it had been ages since there was a slash scene in a chapter, everyone knows that this story has always been a slash fic: it says so in the summary, and warnings are written in each chapter containing those scenes. So I don't really want to know if you find the scenes disgusting. If you do, then read a non-slash fic, period. Moreover, if the reason you dislike the scenes is because they are between an old man and a teenager, then read the fic again. Voldemort is indeed 70-something years old –his soul, that is- because in my fic he didn't come back as in canon. Teenager Tom Riddle sprung from the horcrux diary and then Voldemort's spirit merged with teenager Tom, in Tom's body. The merging made the body have the 'mean' age of their added ages, and that would mean that Voldemort has the appearance of a 30-something year old man, and he doesn't have the snake-like features. He looks like Tom would have looked like at that age, only with crimson eyes. If you still find that sex between a 30 year old man with a 17 year old is disgusting, then fine, it's your opinion. But I don't want to hear it because the HP/LV pairing was stated in BH's summary, so everyone knew that the fics were going to have slash scenes between them. So again, the reader was forewarned. And finally, this fic IS a drama. It's clearly categorized as Adventure/Drama, so if you don't like drama, angst and the like, I don't know why you chose to read this fic. Phew! That's all, thanks *winks*

* * *

**Chapter 29**

"Orion… Orion… Oh, please wake up! Orion…" the frantic, concerned words filtered through his swirling consciousness, as he felt someone persistently shaking his shoulders and gently slapping his face.

With a groan, Orion slowly peeled his eyes open, realizing he was still slumped on the hallway, his head resting on someone's legs. His gaze soon trailed upwards, catching sight of Calypso staring at him with watery eyes, while she ran her hands along his face and hair, as if giving comfort.

"Oh, thank Circe!" choked out Calypso, relief sweeping across her expression when their gazes met. "I feared that you… Oh, thank Mordred that you're well!"

Grunting, Orion incorporated himself to a seating position, the young witch solicitously helping him to it as he rested his back against a wall. Suddenly, as everything came back to him, he gasped out and frantically fingered the Slytherin ring.

He let out a long exhalation of relief when he felt the familiar pull tugging at him, and he breathed out, "His piece of soul is still here, it wasn't destroyed… then…" With a frown, his gaze snapped ahead to stare at Calypso, and he murmured quietly, "What happened?"

Seated on the floor with crossed legs, she squirmed fretfully, and replied softly, "My father was summoned by Voldemort and asked to bring me to Malfoy Manor. He wasn't given any explanations, but I agreed to it to find out what was going on. When we arrived we were made to wait in a room."

She shook her head, and muttered, "We were there for a long time before Voldemort came in, with Snape, Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. And then…" She bit her lip, and gazed at him wearily. "My dad couldn't refuse, he had to maintain his cover as a Death Eater, and I… well, you once told me that I should go through with it if Voldemort ever tried to-"

"I understand," interjected Orion grimly, forcing himself to feel nothing except cold, hard-edged indifference. "So he finally did it… he gathered the five binders and went through some sort of ritual to break our marital bond, didn't he?"

He shot a glance at Calypso, who somberly nodded at him, and then glanced down at his bonding ring, slowly trailing a fingertip over it, as he muttered sharply, "I had begun to think he would never do it… after so long… and after the week I spent with him, I thought we had reached-"

"What happened between the two of you?" asked Calypso abruptly, worriedly frowning at him. "When Dobby told me you were going to stay with Voldemort, I thought you had fixed matters with him. Did you two fight? Did you-"

"No," bit out Orion angrily, his jaw clenching as he pierced her with a hard gaze. "We didn't fight, we didn't have any serious arguments, everything was going well! At least I thought so, and then he goes and does something like this…" He trailed off, sighing as he rubbed his forehead. "It doesn't matter. I couldn't care less. This is fine. I'm fine."

"Fine?" groused out Calypso, shooting him an exasperated look. "Sure, you always say that you're fine. It's your favorite word! And I don't believe it. After this-"

"What do you want me to say, then?" snapped Orion angrily, briskly swatting a lock of hair from his eyes. He gritted his teeth, and hissed out, "I AM fine. Now, I'm truly no longer his spouse. Now I'm free to do a lot of things!"

"If you say so," said Calypso with a skeptical huff. "But I want to understand what happened. Tell me what went on between Voldemort and you."

"Alright," said Orion with a sharp nod, as he started to slowly stand up, still feeling some aches coursing through his body. "I'll tell you about that and many other things. A lot has happened since we last spoke."

He helped Calypso get to her feet when he saw that she was having some trouble with it. She looked exhausted and weak, surely due to the exertion she must have gone through during the bond-breaking ritual.

When they were both standing, Orion glanced around with a puzzled frown. "Where's your dad? Didn't he come back?"

"He had to leave again," replied Calypso, carefully eyeing him. "He had to report to Komorov about the breaking of your marital bond with Voldemort."

Orion scoffed, as they slowly made their way into a parlor. "It figures. Komorov will be ecstatic to hear about it."

Calypso remained quiet as they entered the room, and she glanced at him when she detected a limp in his steps, and murmured quietly, "It was also painful for Voldemort, you know? I don't think he was expecting to feel pain. The instant the ritual was concluded, he was already writhing on the floor. He immediately yelled at us to leave. Well, he hissed, but we got the gist of it."

"Good," grunted out Orion, as he plopped down on a plushy couch. "I hope it was just as painful for him as it was for me." He shot her a nasty, vindictive smirk. "Actually, I hope it was ten times worse."

Sighing, Calypso shook her head, mumbling something under her breath. But without giving her a chance to say something he would undoubtedly not want to hear, he quickly proceeded to inform her about everything.

First, he explained in detail what had happened during the night he had gone to the cave with Dumbledore, proceeding with the happenings at Hogwarts and the Astronomy Tower, how he had gone back in time, and then what he had been doing since rescuing Draco from Voldemort. He told her everything regarding how he had killed Grindelwald; their meeting with Dumbledore, how he had found himself in the old coot's headquarters in Paris, meeting Arian for the first time, and then everything that Grindelwald had told him before he had killed the wizard.

Following, he related his meeting with Komorov and Sebastien, telling her about his theories regarding the light wizard who called himself the 'Vindico Lumen'. He then told her about his 'chat' with the Spirits, how he was 'thrice-blooded' with the Peverell lines, given that Grindelwald had been Antioch's descendant and since he was the man's grandson. And finally, he told her about his week with Voldemort, feeling no embarrassment as he revealed all the details.

Through it all, she attentively listened to him, without saying a word, her mind undoubtedly fast at work.

As soon as Orion finished his narration, Calypso musingly glanced at him, and said quietly, "I had figured out that you were Grindelwald's grandson when I read the newspapers. Nice touch with the monument and all, by the way. It was a good way of letting everyone know." She sighed, and muttered with annoyance, "Though, I'm angry at myself for not having figured it out before. Of course that the Spirits wouldn't have allowed Antioch to die without having descendants! How didn't we realize it before?" She shook her head, and added pensively without a pause, "The Vindico Atrum matter is becoming clearer, isn't it? As you say, it's all about the Peverells. But…"

She shot him a deep frown. "This Arian sounds like serious business. Even though you didn't tell Voldemort all the facts, he's a fool for not considering him a threat. If Arian is as powerful as you say, and if he's able to absorb Dumbledore's magic… Well, it's clear that you must dispose of him as soon as you can. I don't like the sound of this Vindico Lumen business, or the things he said to you. How does he know so much about you and about VA matters?!"

At Orion's tired shrug of the shoulders, she huffed and continued miffed, "Well, that aside, I think it's clear why Voldemort decided to break the marital bond now."

Orion shot her an arched eyebrow, and Calypso rolled her eyes, before she pierced him with an intense gaze, and said gravely, "Don't you see? When you had sex with him, and, er... when you did that weird horcrux connection thing, he must have felt the same things you did, only ten-fold. He's the horcruxes' master soul, and on top of that, you always said that since his soul is so mangled, he mustn't feel things as the rest of us do. He has spent decades without having strong emotions, and suddenly, during sex with you, he felt an influx of feelings he surely has never experienced before, at least not as strongly."

She leveled him with a hard gaze, and added pointedly, "Didn't you say you felt sensations of warmth, completeness and belonging? Then think what it would have meant for Voldemort, experiencing those things."

Calypso rested her back against her seat as Orion frowned at her, and she continued matter-of-factly, "He felt those things with you intensely, and I'm sure it scared him. Or, if it didn't frighten him, it surely made him feel uneasy and wary, for feeling such an attachment to you." She held up a finger, shooting him a smile. "Nevertheless, he went to you night after night. To experience it again, like a thirsty man tasting a sip of water and craving for more."

She dropped her hand, and added with a frown, "But at some point he must have realized how dangerous and risky it was for him. Someone like Voldemort wouldn't want to feel any deep attachments towards anyone. To him, feeling any kind of emotion, and perhaps finding himself liking and desiring them, must be repulsive. So, he decided to cut it short and put some distance between you. Thus, he broke the marital bond."

Her gaze snapped back to him, as if to see if her explanation had sunk in through his hard head.

Orion merely stared at her, and finally barked out a harsh laughter. "My, you have a very romanticized view of things, Scaly." He snorted, and said tartly, "I have drawn other conclusions." Demonstratively, he briskly yanked his Slytherin wedding ring from his finger, and waved it in front of her. "See, now that the bond is severed, I can take it off. Now, it's only a horcrux, and I'm sure he will demand to have it back. It's a test, to see if I'll give it to him. Indeed, he's testing the waters."

He leaned forward towards her, and added acerbically, "That's the reason why he has broken our marital bond, now of all times, after knowing that I'm Grindelwald's grandson, after seeing my magical aura, after becoming aware of just how powerful I must be. Voldemort is preparing himself. He will want to gather back this horcrux, he'll make sure that the rest are safe, and he'll ask again for the Gaunt ring, and threaten to kill me if I don't give it back to him."

Orion's jaw clenched, and he tiredly slumped back on his seat, as he continued sharply, "He's arming himself against me. And he'll get the Elder Wand by any means, and he'll target Snape and Draco to make sure that he truly becomes the Wand's master, without leaving any loose knots. And all of it, it's because he's planning for the possibility of turning against me if I become a threat to him." He shot her a piercing gaze. "The moment I step out of line, the moment I do anything to make him suspicious about my intentions, he will attempt to kill me."

"I still think that I'm right in my analysis," said Calypso firmly. Then, she eyed him with worry, and added waveringly, "But if you're also right, then what will you do about it?"

"Simple," replied Orion, shooting her a hard smile as waved the Slytherin ring in front of her. "I will give him back the last horcrux in my possession." He swiftly pocketed the ring, and continued calmly, "I will also give him a fake Gaunt ring, and I'll do nothing to stop him from obtaining the Elder Wand. And with those actions, he'll feel safer. He'll trust that I have no intentions of disposing of him to take his place." He shot her a wide smirk. "And when he turns against me -because he will, I'm sure of it, I've seen it- he'll use the Elder Wand, and fail. Because the Wand can't be used against its master, and unbeknownst to him, I'm it."

"I see," said Calypso slowly, eyeing him with apprehension. "But what about Draco and Snape? If, as you say, Voldemort is planning on killing them, then-"

"I'll prevent it, of course," interrupted Orion impassively, waving a hand. "Draco is the one more at risk, since Voldemort is already trying to find and kill him. But he's safe in this manor, for the time being. As for Snape… Well, I'll see him tomorrow at Lycaon, I'll tell him then why he needs to be careful around Voldemort. And once Voldemort has the Elder Wand, I'll protect Snape." He sighed, and carded his fingers through his hair. "I don't think Voldemort will kill Snape before having the Wand. I think he'll wait until it's in his possession because Snape is still a useful Death Eater to him."

"Alright," said Calypso, with a sharp nod. She shot him a penetrating glance, and added quietly, "You realize, that after this, Komorov will insist again that you start gathering the horcruxes. I agree with the tactic of giving the Slytherin ring back to Voldemort, but it will complicate matters for you once you decide to get the horcruxes." She quizzically stared at him. "Or aren't you going to do that-"

"Oh, no, I am," interjected Orion shortly, "when the time is right. If I go horcrux-hunting now, Voldemort will notice it." He snorted harshly. "He would surely notice if Nagini suddenly disappears, wouldn't he?" He shook his head, and added coolly, "I rather get the horcruxes when he has already turned against me, because at present I don't want anything disturbing the 'truce' I've reached with him. There must be no further distrusts among us while we plan for the war, nor when we're fighting in it."

"Yes, you're right," said Calypso approvingly. "And I'll go with you when you start horcrux-hunting." She shot him a wide grin. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, and someone has to help you get out of sticky situations, since you have a knack for landing in them."

"So it would seem," said Orion, chuckling under his breath. "Thanks. Your help will be much appreciated."

Calypso beamed a smile at him, before an expression of sudden remembrance spread over her face. She swiftly pulled out her wand, waving it, and in the next second a small, bulky letter came zooming into the room.

"Oh, this came for you a couple of days ago," she said quickly, handing the letter over to him. "I think it must be important since it's from Loki."

Eagerly, Orion ripped the envelope open, putting a short letter aside as he held up the ring which had been contained inside the small package. He closely inspected it, turning it to all sides.

"Is that the fake Gaunt ring you told me about?" said Calypso, inching closer to observe it. "Is it any good?"

"Yup," said Orion at last, when he concluded his inspection. He widely grinned at her while he bounced the ring into the air, before he quickly snatched it again, pocketing it. "It's perfect. Voldemort will never notice the difference."

"What does it say?" asked Calypso with curiosity, glancing down at the short, folded piece of parchment by his side.

"Um… let's see," murmured Orion, as he opened it and quickly read the brief sentences. "Well, Loki says that he isn't doing me any more favors – go figure… Ah, and he took Luna to the Guild… they tested her… and…" He folded the letter, and smiled at her with satisfaction. "And Luna passed the tests. She has been admitted as a Necromancer's apprentice. It seems she agreed to it as well, but told them she wouldn't start the training yet. That she wants to stay at Hogwarts for at least one more year, to continue her education. Loki doesn't sound too happy about it. "

He shook his head and chuckled under his breath. "I wonder if those two got along."

"Well, it's good news for you, I suppose," interjected Calypso musingly. "Though I never thought that the Lovegood girl had it in her to become a Necromancer."

"She'll be a weird one, that's for sure," said Orion, faintly smiling.

He waved a hand and the envelope and the short letter burst into flames before they dissolved into nothingness. With several flicks of his wrist he conjured an inked quill, a piece of parchment and a small blade.

"What are you doing now?" said Calypso, arching an eyebrow while observing him.

"What I should have done a while ago," replied Orion with a hard, determined edge to his voice, as he quickly scribbled down a few, short sentences.

He folded the parchment and pricked one fingertip with the blade's point, smudging some drops of blood on the letter and quickly muttering a spell.

When the letter disappeared into thin air, he felt as if he had just sealed a final deal, the consequences of which he didn't quite know yet, only that they would be long-lasting and probably life-altering.

With a sigh, Orion vanished the remaining items, and then glanced up at Calypso as he said curtly, "I wrote to Mireilla Zraven, letting her know that I'll be there in precisely one week. And I told her I would want to see the Kraljica Mati."

"Ah," said Calypso, closely regarding him. "And doing it now has nothing to do with Voldemort breaking the marital bond, I suppose, because you're fine with it."

Orion narrowed his eyes at her, and said sternly, "You suppose correctly. It has nothing to do with Voldemort or anything he's done. You know that I always planned on going to Zraven Citadel for a month during the holidays."

"Quite," interjected Calypso, her lips thinning as she pierced him with her beautiful large, black eyes. "And I suppose that recent events will not affect the decision you'll have to make at Zraven Citadel. I suppose that deciding whether to complete the bond with Lezander or not, will not be influenced by what Voldemort did today."

"It will not," said Orion coldly. He waved a hand, and added dismissively, "And if you're asking if I'll complete the bond with Lez, then I can only say that I don't know. We'll see. There are a lot of things I need to consider."

Calypso was about to say something, but she was abruptly interrupted when a letter flashed into existence, dropping into Orion's hands.

Not at all surprised by the expediency, he calmly opened it and scanned with his gaze the ornately penned words. Mireilla's reply was filled with congratiating sentences. His stay would be most welcomed, they would have a chance to 'heal the breach' between them, they would be able to finalize the negotiations between vampires and dark wizards, he would gain much from undergoing the vampire training, and such. It was clear that she was still feeling guilty for lying to him about Lezander's survival. Nevertheless, it didn't escape his notice that she didn't mention once the Kraljica Mati, nor Lezander and what he could expect.

But he was satisfied nonetheless, and he silently handed the letter to Calypso.

"The wheels have started turning again, I see," said Calypso with a sigh, as soon as she finished reading it, returning the letter to him. "Very well, if this is what you want, then you know you can count with my full support." She sighed again, now tiredly, while she rubbed her eyes. "We should get some sleep. I, for one, am exhausted. And tomorrow's going to be a long day for you."

Orion nodded in agreement, before he glanced around expectantly. "I wanted to talk to your father before going to bed. Do you think he'll take long?"

"I think so," replied Calypso, with a shrug of her shoulders. "It's possible that Komorov has assembled an Aux Atrum meeting to discuss recent news – the severing of your marital bond with Voldemort being one of them, I'm sure. If so, my father will come back late at night." She shot him a glance, and added with a warm smile, "But if you wondered about his decision, he agreed to stay here to train Draco when he wakes up. So there's nothing you should concern yourself about."

"Great," said Orion, beaming a smile at her while he slowly stood up and helped her to her feet as well. "Then let's get some sleep."

As they made their way to the family-wing of Potter Manor, Orion forced his thoughts away from any subject regarding Voldemort and into more practical and useful musings and plots.

They reached the master bedroom before reaching the suite that Daisy had assigned to Calypso, and Orion stood before his door, shooting the young witch a glance, as he said pensively, "Say, would you do something for me?"

"Certainly," said Calypso, arching a curious eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Like I told you before, Voldemort agreed to allow the Elite to participate in any meetings held to plan the war," he said quietly. "Not for the one I'll have tomorrow, but indeed for any subsequent meetings. And I was thinking that it's time for me to mark them, and-"

"Really?" breathed out Calypso enthusiastically, her eyes widening. "You want to mark the Elite? I think it's a superb idea! It was about time. I saw your mark on Draco's arm, and it's perfect, just like I had imagined it when I was working on the spell-"

"Yes, yes," interrupted Orion with a chuckle. "But my point is that I think that Potter Manor should become our Headquarters. I want the Elite to come here, to train, to plan a few things, and to tell them all about the Vindico issue. It's time they knew about everything. And then I'll mark them-"

"Oh! So you'll need to hold some sort of marking ceremony," interjected Calypso vigorously nodding, her eyes glinting with excited anticipation. "It has to be grand and meaningful. I can already picture it in my mind…"

Orion blinked at her when she trailed off with a dreamy expression on her face. "Er, right, a marking ceremony… yeah, that too, I suppose."

"You suppose?" said Calypso briskly, as if abruptly yanked away from beloved plots, her gaze snapping back to him. "Don't tell me you weren't thinking about having a marking ceremony? You know how things like those are very important to dark wizards. We like ceremonies for everything! The ritualistic meaning, the tradition behind them-"

"Yes, yes, I know," interrupted Orion with a sigh. "Gellert would agree with you-"

"Of course he would!" snapped Calypso, huffing. She leveled him with a hard gaze, and said firmly, "Leave everything to me. I'll plan the ceremony, and I'll write to the Elite to ask them to come here. When do you want to hold it?"

"Um, in two days, on Monday," said Orion, gazing at her warily. She looked like a titanic force that wouldn't allow anything or anyone –himself included- to get in the way of her new plans.

Carding his fingers through his hair, he added with a sigh, "Well, I guess it will be killing two birds with one stone. When you write to them, ask them if they can spend their holidays here. That was the initial favor I wanted to ask of you. I'll adjust the wards so that they can come and go from the manor."

"Excellent," she said cheerfully, shooting him a satisfied smile. "Then I'll take care of it tomorrow." She gently grabbed his arm, and started steering him into the master bedroom. "Now let's get you into bed."

"I don't need to be mothered," grumbled Orion under his breath, yet he ceased and desisted, allowing the young witch to fret over him.

"Sometimes you do," piped in Calypso matter-of-factly, as she flicked her wand at him, swiftly changing his robes for a set of comfortable pajamas.

And with another one of her flicks, he felt a cleaning-charm tingling in his mouth. And in the end, Orion resignedly allowed himself to be tucked under the bed covers, and he finally cozily settled himself for a long night sleep when she placed a puffed out pillow under his head.

About to close his eyes, he shot the witch a quizzical glance when he saw Calypso standing uncertainly besides his bed, making no attempts to leave the room.

"Um… I wondered if I…" she mumbled out, searchingly eyeing him. "Well, I wondered if I could stay here with you."

Orion's eyebrows shot upwards in perplexed surprise, before a dazzling smile spread over his face and he parted the bed covers invitingly. "Sure, hop in. It would be like old times when you used to slip into the boy's Hydra dormitory to rest and plot with me on my bed, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would," she whispered, a trace of melancholy in her voice. She shrugged her shoulders, and added quietly, "I kind of miss it."

"I've missed it too," said Orion instantly, not wanting to give her time to change her mind, given how long it had been since the young witch had wanted to have such close contact with him. "So hurry up and get in."

"Alright, give me a second," she said with a large smile, before she made her way to his closet, pulling something out, and then to the bathroom.

In no time, clothed in a set of his pajamas shrunk to her size, Calypso slipped inside the bed. Orion had widely stretched out his arms, to let her settle herself as she liked, carefully not making any move to touch her in any way, since during the year she had always pulled away when he had tried to give her a hug or the like.

When she had finally settled, Calypso was laying on her back, using the crook of Orion's shoulder as her pillow, with one of her arms resting on his chest. He noticed that the contact with the rest of her body was still minimal, but he didn't even attempt to ask anything to her. She would explain when she was ready, and that was it.

Nevertheless, he experimentally slowly touched the top of her head, and said hesitantly, "Is this okay?"

"Yes," she murmured contently. "You know that I love to have my hair touched."

With a grin, Orion caressingly trailed his fingers through her long, wavy black hair, feeling a modicum of enjoyment at its soft silkiness.

"Are you truly okay with what Voldemort did?"

Orion sighed; the girl was persistent. Leave it to her to still want to talk about it, to then give him comfort of some sort, no doubt.

"I don't want to discuss it further, Scaly," he said quietly, restfully closing his eyes as he kept caressing her hair. "As a matter of fact, I don't want to talk about anything serious. So don't even ask me how I'm feeling after killing Gellert and finding out that he was my grandad, which I'm sure you were going to ask next. I don't want to mourn him. I don't want to mourn anything, Scaly."

He heard Calypso sighing, before she tightened the arm she had draped across his chest, and heard her whispering softly, "I miss this, I miss Lezander, I miss the way we were."

Orion slowly cracked his eyes half-open, and gazed down at her, catching sight of a sad expression on what he could see of her face at that angle. And such an expression was an unusual one for her. He could tell that she had something on her mind, that something was making her grieve.

"Do you know which memory I use when I have to cast a Patronus Charm?" she continued softly. "The one when you, Lez and I changed into our animagus forms and went into the Shadow Forest." She scoffed self-mockingly. "Pathetic, isn't it?"

"It's not pathetic," interjected Orion quietly, tenderly caressing her locks of hair, trying to lend her some comfort to assuage her strange, melancholic mood. "I often use it as well."

Calypso tilted her head backwards to peer up at him. "Really?"

"Yes, really. It's one of my favorite memories of us," said Orion, warmly smiling at her. "Surely you didn't think that you were the only one to miss those times when we had little preoccupations in our minds." He pierced her with his gaze, and added quietly, "I miss that feeling of unity between the three of us, as well."

"Yes, so do I," she murmured, resting her head back on his shoulder. "I wonder if we will ever have it back now that things have changed so much… now that the war is coming…"

"Is that what's troubling you, the war?" asked Orion gently.

"Among other things, yes," Calypso replied vaguely. She sighed, and added grimly, "Many will die, Orion. Many among our acquaintances, and friends, even. Like everyone else, I know and accept it as something inevitable, but… but sometimes I cannot help thinking about it. I cannot help fearing who and how many I will lose, and that's only if I survive it-"

"Of course you will," interrupted Orion gravely, frowning down at her. "Everyone we care about will. That's one of the main reasons for me to become the Vindico, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I cannot feel as optimistic as you do," she interjected quietly. She tilted her head back, and shot him a hard glance. "People will die in the wars, Orion, no matter how powerful you become. You might as well accept it now. You cannot save and protect everyone!"

"I know that," snapped Orion sharply, before he sighed and closed his eyes, slumping his head back on his fluffy pillow.

"Sorry," he heard her mumbling regretfully. "I know that I shouldn't be burdening you with my fears, Orion. You have enough on your plate as it is."

"You aren't burdening me with anything," he sighed out, starting to caress her hair again while he kept his eyes closed in restfulness. "You can share with me any thoughts and fears you have. You know that."

A long stretch of silence spread between them, and when he thought that she must have fallen asleep, he heard her chuckling under her breath.

He cracked an eye open, and glanced down at her, to see her shooting him an amused smile.

"I used to fancy you, when we were kids, did I ever tell you that?"

Orion blinked, and then smugly grinned at her. "Is that so?"

"Yes, you prat," said Calypso, still chuckling. "And as usual, you didn't have a clue. The only one who noticed it was Draco." Her smile spread as something wicked glinted in her eyes. "He didn't like it at all. He's always been very jealous over you. And I dare say that Lezander also knew, given that we didn't get along too well in the beginning."

"Well, well," said Orion, his grin widening rakishly, "what else have you never told me about? This is getting interesting."

Calypso eyed him with an amused glint in her eyes, and whispered conspiratorially, "I also used to wonder what it would have been like if we had gotten together."

"Did you?" said Orion, letting out a bout of laughter. He glanced at her with a twinkle in his eyes, and murmured silkily, "And what was your verdict? Would we have made a fine couple in your opinion?"

"Perhaps," replied Calypso, saucily smirking at him, before she sighed as if greatly disappointed. "Too bad we will never find out, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Orion with a chuckle, as he appreciatively carded his fingers through her silky hair. "But let me assure you that if I preferred witches over wizards, you would have been my first choice out of countless other women."

"Oh, you do me a great honor," interjected Calypso sarcastically, with a roll of her eyes. "I'm so flattered." She shook her head, and scoffed out, "You're such a vain git."

Orion unabashedly grinned down at her. "A little bit, perhaps. And speaking of vain gits, you still haven't told me if our dear Viktor has managed to not get dumped by Titania."

She shot him a smirk, and they proceeded to swap juicy rumors back and forth, chatting about everything and nothing of importance or consequence, falling into an easy, carefree camaraderie. And like that, whispering together like in the old, long gone times, they slowly dozed off, Calypso resting on Orion's chest, one arm wrapped around him, while Orion fell asleep with a sense of warm contentment he hadn't felt in a long time, one that could have only been provided by her.

* * *

With a weird dream involving white wings and beams of light fading from his consciousness, Orion woke up the following morning when he was roused by the sound of loud, panicked house-elf voices, accompanied by the noise of things being frantically moved around.

Instantly becoming worried and alert, he jumped off the bed to his feet, quickly realizing that Calypso wasn't in his rooms anymore. The young witch must have woken up before he did and chosen to let him sleep for a while longer.

Not even bothering to get dressed, he grabbed his two wands and rushed out of the bedroom only wearing his pajama pants. As he ran down a hallway, he caught sight of a frantic house-elf carrying a large chest, and demanded sharply, "You there! What's going on?"

"Master's friend said to pack everything," the house-elf wheezed out. "We is leaving, as ordered by Sir if we is discovered."

"What?" snapped Orion, frowning confusedly down at the creature. "What do you mean that- Oh, never mind. Where's Calypso?"

"Master's guest is at the main parlor, sir," replied the house-elf fretfully.

"Thanks, carry on with whatever you're doing," said Orion over his shoulder, already pelting down the corridor.

He went down the main stairway, jumping two steps at a time, and finally skidded around a corner, puffing out a pant of breath as he rushed inside the parlor. Orion immediately caught sight of Calypso standing before a tall window, a hand pulling the curtains to a side as she gazed out at something. Her posture was tense, and her wand was drawn out.

As soon as he reached her side, he panted out, "What the hell is going on? Why are my house-elves –"

She swirled around, apparently startled by him, but she didn't give him a chance to finish, as she said urgently, "They've found you. I was about to go up and wake you. There's an Auror outside the manor-"

"That's not possible," snapped Orion instantly, shooting her a frown. "They don't know that I have access to the manor. They don't even know that I have Potter blood, to begin with. And the manor cannot be seen or found by anyone who I haven't keyed into the wards."

Without pausing, he maneuvered around her to part the curtains and take a look for himself. He felt Calypso moving to stand by his side, also fixedly gazing out at a figure standing in the middle of the road, a long distance away, but it was someone who evidently knew what was hidden from sight.

"See?" said Calypso gravely. "We need to leave at once and take Draco with us. We could go to my manor for the time being, and then-"

"He isn't an Auror," interrupted Orion quietly, still fixedly gazing at the figure, who was now leisurely strolling about in a lazy circle – almost mocking those who observed him, he would say. "Tell Daisy to stop this commotion and to have the house-elves put everything back into place. We aren't going anywhere."

"What do you mean that he's not an Auror?" demanded Calypso sharply. "Then who is he?"

"That's Arian," replied Orion caustically, as he briskly let go of the curtains.

"That's him?" breathed out Calypso, instantly pulling the curtains apart once more, almost pressing her face against the window panes. "My… I hadn't expected him to be so… handsome and, um… well… nice-looking, in a very light-ish sort of way, but he's mightily attractive anyway… and…"

She seemed to remember herself, and dropped the curtains, glancing at Orion with a faint blush of embarrassment tingeing her cheeks.

At his narrowed glance, the young witch huffed and squared her shoulders, as she said curtly, "Well, the man IS gorgeous, so don't look at me that way. And he isn't how I had imagined him." She shot him a baleful glare. "You left out a lot of things, like what he looked like."

"Let me make one thing clear," gritted out Orion, pointing a finger towards the curtained window, "Arian can be a lot of things, but 'nice' is merely a façade. And what the bloody hell does it matter how he looks like?!"

"Of course it matters," said Calypso bitingly, "and mostly because you tend to fancy handsome wizards, and he-"

"Believe me, I'm in no risk of 'fancying' him," snapped Orion with angered indignation. He glowered at her, and sneered acidly, "I think I can control myself. What, do you think that I go jumping all wizards that look good?"

Rolling her eyes, Calypso scoffed. "The point is that he's out there, and obviously knows that the Manor is here. So what will you do? I don't think he'll leave until you come out." She shot him an apprehensive glance. "But it could also be an ambush. He could have Aurors waiting for him to give a signal."

"It's possible, I suppose," said Orion quietly, before his tone adopted a sharply annoyed edge. "But I don't think it's the case. He doesn't want me to be captured, because he wants me to become the VA. Remember that I told you about what he said? And it wouldn't make any sense for him to help the Aurors now, when he aided me when I landed in Dumbledore's Paris Headquarters. Most probably, he simply wants to speak to me."

Calypso deeply frowned at him. "What for?"

"I don't bloody know, do I?" groused out Orion impatiently, carding his fingers through his hair. "And I'm definitely not interested in having a 'chat' with him. But I'm sure he won't go away until he sees me. And the longer he stays there, the greater chances that some wizard travelling in the area could see him and wonder why there's someone apparently standing in the middle of nowhere."

He sighed, before he swiftly plucked out his Death and Life wand from his pants and moved towards the door.

"You're going out," said Calypso disbelievingly, "wearing only your pajama pants?"

"It's hot outside," shot Orion over his shoulder, "and I'm not dressing up just to see him! He's not worth the bloody effort."

"I don't think you should go," she called out anxiously, trailing after him, "I don't like this!"

"Neither do I, believe me!" snapped Orion, before he yanked the front door open and slipped outside.

Then he slammed the door shut in Calypso's face, and with a thought instantly locked it with the use of the manor's wards, for good measure, since he didn't want the young witch getting involved. She was capable of ferociously rushing to his aid like a mother-dragon if she deemed that the situation turned risky for him.

Orion made his way along the pebbled path that sinuously trailed across the manor's vast, beautiful gardens, with his Death and Life wand tightly clutched in his hand. And as he reached the ornate gate emblazoned with the Potter crest, he shot a glance over his shoulder and caught sight of Calypso peering out from a window, with a furious expression on her face at having been locked in, no doubt.

Turning his head around, he flicked his wand, and crossed the opened gates, feeling the tingle of wards brushing along his skin. As soon as he had taken a step forward, he knew that he could be seen now that he had left the Potter estates, and as he continued forward, his gaze remained fixed on the figure standing in the middle of the road, in the midst of vast, rolling hills.

The wizard was wearing light blue robes, with his curly locks of bronze hair being gently swept by a soft summer breeze, the young man's chiseled handsome face wearing an angelic expression of innocent benevolence. And the moment Arian's sky-blue eyes met Orion's green ones, the light wizard dazzling smiled and animatedly waved a hand at him, with supreme graceful calmness.

The light wizard was a pest. Orion gritted his teeth as he continued making his way towards him. No, that was the problem, that the wizard didn't rub him the wrong way, not as much as it should. His opinion of Arian had climbed up several notches after what he had unraveled during his conversation with Komorov and Sebastien. He even grudgingly admired the light wizard; the man was a force to be reckoned.

To make matters worse, he could already feel it from there: the aura of light magic that the wizard oozed, which already roused his inner magical core in agitation, as if preparing itself to clash against an opposing force and threat. Yet, the feeling of the man's aura also felt strangely familiar and eerily enticing. As if he was drawn to something that felt dangerously toxic and nocive, but wanted to taste it nonetheless, to drown in it.

And inevitably, it made him feel warily jumpy. Yet, Orion forced himself into utter cool impassiveness, as he squared his shoulders and finally reached the wizard, halting to stand before him. When he noticed that Arian wasn't holding a wand, he tucked his own away, since keeping it in hand would only make the other believe that he was afraid or wary of him. And that, he would not have.

"What do you want?" he said calmly, piercing the light wizard with his eyes.

"I applaud you," said Arian with a wide, warm smile, vigorously clapping his hands as his gaze trailed over him. "Bravo!"

Orion frowned, not knowing what the wizard was referring to, until he glanced down at himself and saw the thick mantle of dark magic that was rippling around himself.

"Beautiful aura, if a light wizard like myself can say so regarding dark magic," continued Arian warmly. "So, one down and another to go." The wizard's smile widened as he arched an eyebrow expectantly. "When will be dear old Tommy's time? I would like to plan the festivities beforehand-"

"Again, what do you want, Valenor?" bit out Orion, darkly glowering at the light wizard, not at all surprised that the man knew about Voldemort's real name.

Though he didn't like it, and much less that the light wizard was also evidently aware that according to the interpretation of the prophecy and to what the Spirits' wanted, Voldemort was the one he had to kill next, after having offed Grindelwald.

"Please, call me Arian," said the wizard warmly, his cerulean blue gaze still travelling along Orion's body.

"Fine," snapped Orion impatiently. "Now answer the question."

"Why, I only want to have a little tête à tête," said Arian loftily, as he waved a hand graciously, "since we were so rudely interrupted last time."

Orion pierced him with narrowed eyes. "You want to have a chat, right here?"

"Mais oui, I don't see why not," said Arian airily. "There isn't any other manor for miles, so we won't be seen. And I don't mind having the Rosier chit as an audience." He suddenly grinned, and gazed at some point into the horizon over Orion's shoulder. "And your manor is in an excellent location, very practical given things."

Frowning, Orion turned his face around to follow the wizard's gaze, trying to discover what on earth the man was referring to. Potter Manor was located in Wiltshire, like most manors of pureblood lines, whether they were dark or light. Rosier and Malfoy Manor were also in that wizarding county, as well as Fugde's and Scrimgeour's respective manors. But the wizard's comment didn't make much sense. What did practicality have to do with it?

But by the time he tried to follow the wizard's line of sight, Arian had already swiftly turned his gaze back on him, and Orion shot him a puzzled frown that went unacknowledged and unanswered. And, inevitably, he also wondered how the wizard knew that Calypso was in the Manor. But he knew that asking would be pointless; an enemy would never reveal his sources, after all.

Finally, Orion snapped impatiently, "Well, if you want to chat, then do so."

"You didn't answer my initial question," said Arian calmly, pinning him with a spearing blue gaze. "When will you kill Voldemort, hmm?"

Orion narrowed his eyes at him, but didn't dignify the question with an answer, and simply kept quiet as he faced-off the wizard.

A tingling laughter erupted from Arian's lips, and the wizard eyed him with condescending pity. "Oh, my, don't tell me that you're still adamant about sparing him? Of all the stupid things you could do." His expression turned benevolently soft, as he sighed with sympathetic exasperation. "Well, given your feelings for him, I shouldn't have expected anything else. Though, your reluctance to kill him will do you no good in the end. You will do it, as you very well know. But for now you can delude yourself as much as you want."

Bristling, Orion felt a surge of seething anger rising in him, but he instantly forced himself to cool down, and defiantly gazed back at the man, allowing his silence to once more express what he thought about what he was being told.

A fleeting expression of anger crossed Arian's face, before he took one step forward to be inches away from him. And ever so slowly, the wizard trailed a finger along Orion's face, as he murmured, "I can understand your misplaced feelings for Voldemort and the others. You've always been one to give your heart freely, to many, always thinking you were great enough to manage the consequences. You never seemed to think that it should be exclusively granted to one person only. You shared yourself with as many as you became infatuated with. In that, as in many things, you haven't changed-"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" finally snapped Orion with angered exasperation, as he briskly swatted the wizard's finger away. "Don't speak to me about a past life in which you knew me." He clenched his jaw, piercing him with his gaze, as he gritted out, "I don't remember. I don't remember you! And I don't want to, either. Whoever you knew me as, I'm not him anymore."

"We've known each other during several lifetimes, not just one," said Arian quietly, dropping his hand. Abruptly, his lips tugged upwards, and he pierced him with an intense gaze, as he stated shortly, "And you will remember all of it, that I can promise."

Orion snorted in disagreement, crossing his arms over his bare chest. The man could promise all he liked. That happening had a snowball's chance in hell. He wasn't going anywhere near the block in his mind, nor would he ever allow anyone else to do anything to break it down.

"Tell me," said Arian placidly, "why aren't you doing anything to attack me? I know you must want to."

"What would be the point?" scoffed out Orion, leveling him with a hard gaze. "I'm not the Vindico Atrum yet, and you…" He clenched his jaw, and continued grudgingly, "I know that you're more powerful than I am, at present."

Arian shot him a dazzling smile, as he bent down at the waist in a flourish bow. "A gracious admission."

At the man's antics, Orion darkly glared at him, and finally bit out, "I don't have much time on my hands, so get to the point of whatever you wanted to talk to me about. Because if you merely wanted to know when I'm offing Voldemort, then I'm leaving before you can waste any more of my time."

"Very well," said Arian, swiftly incorporating himself to a standing position, as he shot him a large grin. "Do you know how many muggles died when your grandfather attempted to conquer the wizarding world?"

Flummoxed, Orion blinked at the unexpected change of subjects, but before he could pipe in a word, the light wizard continued calmly, now piercing him with a stern gaze, "Twenty-four million Russians, ten to twenty million Chinese, six million Polish, eight million Germans, and about six million Jewish people, and those are only the largest figures. In total, the estimates were about seventy million deaths in the muggle world alone, caused by Grindelwald's indifference to what his deranged puppet did. Do you think I'll allow that to happen again?"

Quickly gathering back his wits, Orion stared at him coolly, and said firmly, "It won't be that way. I have no intention of following Gellert's tactic of inciting muggle wars to divert light wizards' attention and to drain their resources-"

"Do you think," interrupted Arian sharply, leveling him with a hard gaze, "the muggles will not be affected by a wizarding war of the magnitude that you and Voldemort are planning? Do you think I don't know about the Mayan Stone in Voldemort's possession, and what he's planning on using it for? Do you believe that he'll listen to you instead of using it? Do you truly think he'll leave the muggles alone?"

Orion briskly carded his fingers through his hair, before he pierced him with his gaze and replied crisply, "I won't let it happen. The last thing I want is for the muggles to discover us. Therefore, I will not allow the wizarding wars to spread to their world, or even affect them in any small way."

"If you put into effect the Dark's plans to conquer the wizarding world," said Arian curtly, pinning him with a grave gaze, "you won't be able to control everything that happens. At some point, a muggle town will be destroyed and the effort to make them forget will be too little and too late-"

"I'm telling you," snapped Orion impatiently, "that I and mine will be ready to prevent it."

Abruptly, Arian sprung forth and clutched Orion's shoulder in a tight, relentless grip, as he said adamantly, "Seventy million muggles died the last time, Orion. Are you ready to carry a similar burden on your shoulders, hmm?"

"It won't happen!" yelled Orion angrily, brusquely ripping away from the wizard's grip. He shot him a baleful glare, and added sharply, "That was then, not now. I'm not Grindelwald, and the circumstances are different. What else do you want me to say?"

"Don't start the war," said Arian shortly, piercing him with his eyes.

"I'm not starting anything," bit out Orion caustically. "It's already underway." He narrowed his eyes at him, and added acidly, "And I don't see why you're spouting to me the consequences of war and rattling off death toll statistics. Didn't you say that you wanted me to become the Vindico Atrum? What did you think I'll be doing after accomplishing it? Sit on a chair and watch the grass grow?"

"There are other ways in which you can attain your goals," said Arian sharply. "War is not the answer-"

"Yes it is," snapped Orion tartly, "there's no other way. Do you think I have never given it considerable thought?" He pinned him with a suspicious, narrowed gaze, and demanded briskly without a pause, "And why are you even discussing this with me? Aren't I your 'nemesis', since you're the Vindico Lumen?"

"Oui, that's precisely why I wanted to have this conversation," replied Arian calmly. "I will, of course, oppose and defeat you after you become the VA. Evidently, I will not allow you to reach your goals. The problem is that you haven't become the VA yet, and the war in England has already begun. That's what I want you to stop."

A bark of laughter sprung from Orion's throat, and he glanced at the light wizard with mocking disbelief. "Are you an idiot? Why on earth would I stop it when conquering England is my first step?" He narrowed his eyes at him, and demanded sharply, "And what about your plans? Are you telling me that you're a pacifist, that you won't fight?"

"Mais oui, I will," replied Arian placidly.

"Then why are you pointing fingers at me?" snapped Orion angrily. "It's clear that as the Vindico Lumen you'll want to reach your goals by winning the wars, the same as me." He pierced him with an intense gaze, and added demandingly, "As a matter of fact, what are your goals exactly? What's the Vindico Lumen supposed to do? Grindelwald told me what Dumbledore wanted; the integration of the muggle and wizarding world, so there would be uniformity of magic, with subsequent generations having only neutral magic. Is that also what you aim for?"

Arian mutely answered him with an upward tug of his lips, and Orion seethed as he hissed out, "You're a wizard yourself, how can you want to have light magic dwindle out and disappear from light wizarding lines?!" He briskly carded his fingers through his hair, and leveled the wizard with a hard gaze, as he spat, "It's not worth the few gains – only for future peace! It's utter stupidity. And what do you think will happen to wizards when you attempt to merge our world with the muggles'? Do you think muggles will bloody welcome it? Do you think they won't see us as a threat? They'll kill us, if we're lucky, or they'll capture us to perform tests, wanting to figure out why we're magical and greedily wanting it for themselves! You're an idiot to even contemplate that a peaceful integration of the two worlds is possible."

"I disagree," interjected Arian impassively, shooting him a large smile. "I know already how to attain a peaceful merging of our worlds, with acceptance and tolerance given by both kinds." His smile widened, as he added loftily, "Well, not tolerance towards dark wizards, obviously."

"Of course not, we're very undeserving of it, aren't we?" said Orion with cool sarcasm, not allowing himself to be ruffled by the wizard. "But if you want to integrate both worlds, then why the fuck do you care if the Dark destroys a muggle town along the way? It would cause more problems for me than for you, since you want them to discover us."

"Ah, the problem would be the timing of it, evidently," said Arian airily, as he shot him a wide, flashy grin. "You see, I don't want it to happen too soon. And this war in England is indeed coming along too early for my taste. The timing of it is very inconvenient. I still have many things to settle before I'm ready to put my plans into motion and action."

"So that's the reason why you wanted me to feel guilty about possible muggle death tolls?" said Orion, snorting with disdain. "You should have tried another tactic. If you knew me at all, as well as you claim, then-"

"Then I would favor you by demonstrating how I plan to bring about a peaceful merging of the two worlds," interrupted Arian calmly, shooting him a large, dazzling smile. "Indeed, I think you deserve to know, since I already know so much about you. And I don't want you to claim that I bested you due to unfair initial conditions."

Orion stared at the man quizzically, his mind still rushing with countless thoughts spurred by the wizard's words. He was having trouble believing that Arian really wanted muggles to find out about the wizarding world, since it was such a dangerously preposterous idea. Furthermore, he couldn't quite believe either that the man didn't care about the dwindling of light magic in wizarding lines. It just didn't make sense to him that a light wizard -who as the Vindico Lumen supposedly had to uphold light magic over everything else- would want that.

"You don't know how right you were in your description of me to Grindelwald," said Arian, widely smiling at him. "Put wings on me and I would look like an archangel, n'est ce pas?"

Orion's eyes snapped up to him, impossibly widening, as he stared at the wizard in shocked silence. Finally, when he found his voice, he stuttered out, "How the hell do you know about that…"

With his overloaded mind feeling as if it was frantically rushing disorderly, he trailed off when a realization struck him like a lightning bolt.

Orion took a jerky step forward, his face inches away from the wizard's, and he intently stared into the man's eyes, as he whispered unevenly, "Knowing about me, my past lives, the Mayan Stone, about Potter Manor, Calypso in it, about what I told Gellert… and you're the Vindico Lumen, my opposite in every way, in magic, so then you also have to be in abilities… a counterforce… I have visions about the future… so you can see into the past, can't you?"

Arian merely beatifically smiled at him, and Orion briskly nodded, as he murmured quietly, "You do." He pierced the wizard with a penetrating, searching gaze, and added in a low whisper, "Can you control it? Can you decide who or what you want to see and exactly when?"

"And of course you're asking this," interjected Arian coolly, as his lips quirked upwards, "because you can't control your visions." He shot him a large grin. "Pity, isn't it, that my abilities are so unfairly above your own?"

Orion clamped his mouth shut, and took a step away as he shot the wizard a sneer. "It means nothing. I don't need to see the future, and even less the past, in order to win the wars. Now, weren't you going to demonstrate something? Then do so, because I don't want to waste any more time with you."

"You shouldn't dismiss me so easily," said Arian, reprovingly clicking his tongue. He flashed him a smile, and added airily, "But I will forgive you this time, since I know how perturbed you must be feeling right now. As I was saying, your description of me to your grandfather was inordinately accurate, unbeknownst to you…"

The wizard took a step back, putting some distance between them, as he widely stretched out his arms, and shot Orion a large, beatifically smile. "What do you believe muggles will think when I appear before them thus, hmm?"

Orion frowned at him, not knowing what the wizard meant. But, abruptly, before his eyes and in an instant, a blinding white light exploded in his vision. And when he lowered down the hand he had instinctually pulled over his eyes, his jaw dropped as he gaped at the wizard before him.

A glow of bright whiteness enveloped the man, making him look ethereally and unearthly beautiful, while the wizard was suspended several feet above the ground, with his arms widely outstretched to either side. And behind them, feet-long, pristine white wings were unfurled, with feather tips tinged with a silvery hue, gently ruffling as a breeze caressed them. His face, if possible, was even more handsome, benevolently so, as the skin seemed to shine with an inner glow, while his bronze hair seemed to sparkle under the rays of sunlight.

"That's... not possible…" croaked out Orion, fixedly staring at him, feeling a shiver running down his spine as he felt the wizard's powerful light aura pressing all around him, captivating, enticing, mesmerizing and lulling.

"And He shall descend from the Heavens, and cast his Light upon thee," he heard Arian saying in an eerie, soft, yet penetrating voice, "and Light shall shine upon thee through darkness, and bring thee grace and salvation… and in the loving kindness of His wings they will take refuge… and the kingdom of the world will become His kingdom, and He will reign forever… and His glory will be above all the earth…"

"You're mad," breathed out Orion, staring at him with wide eyes, feeling rooted to his place in utter bewildered shock, his mind spinning incoherently.

In the bat of an eyelash, Arian dropped back to the ground, wings gone as if they had disappeared into thin air, the glow of whiteness fading away slowly, some of it still making the wizard look like an unearthly, beautiful vision under the rays of sunlight.

Orion seemed to come out of a trance, as if something had abruptly let go of him, and he quickly composed himself as his mind rushed frenziedly with why's and how's.

Finally gathering back his wits, he stared at the wizard who was now patiently smiling at him, and he bit out, "Archangel my ass! How stupid do you think I am? There's no such thing." He took a step forward to be face-to-face with him, and added sharply as he narrowed his eyes, "It's because of the Veela blood in you. But you're only a quarter Veela, I know that." His head jerked to a side, and he said searchingly, "You can transform half-way because of the magnitude of your power, isn't that right? You can even choose what part of your body to change… what new appendages to show… the wings… and then that bloody enticing thing you blast off…"

"I obviously didn't expect you to believe I was an archangel," scoffed Arian, eyeing him with supreme impassivity. "I was speaking about what muggles would think when-"

"When you appear before them like that?!" snapped Orion, gazing at him with bewildered disbelief. "Are you out of your mind?!"

In a flash, he aggressively grasped the wizard by the collar, making the man step back in startlement, and he snarled furiously, "Think again if you believe that I'll let you do that! Do you have any idea how muggles will take it if they saw something like that-"

"Mais oui, I assure you I do," interrupted Arian calmly, making no attempts to break free as he softly smiled down at him. "With a flick of my wrist I can do much grander things than change water into wine, walk on water, or part a sea open. I'm much more powerful than any of those light wizards, though, as my predecessors, I will obviously use muggle religious beliefs with the best of good intentions-"

"There's no solid proof that any of the muggles' prophets were light wizards," bit out Orion crisply, jerkily pulling the wizard's collar forward, making their faces be only a breath apart. "And you aren't…" He shook his head, and continued sharply, leveling him with a hard gaze, "You're not Jesus, Siddhartha or Moses, for Circe's sake!"

"Is that so?" said Arian placidly, his cerulean blue eyes glinting. "My first name means The Holy One, n'est ce pas?… And I remember all my past lives… As far as you know, I could be any of them, reborn-"

"Cut the crap!" bit out Orion angrily. "You can claim to be the muggles' God himself, for all that I care, but you won't-"

"Good," interrupted Arian, dazzling smiling at him. "Then we have no problems between us in that regard."

"You ARE mad!" choked out Orion, swiftly releasing him as he took a step back to gaze at him with round, alarmed eyes.

"Far from it," said Arian with amusement, his smile widening beatifically, "I merely have a way to integrate the wizarding and muggle worlds, peacefully, without muggles seeing us as a threat. Through religion-"

"You want to use their beliefs," snapped Orion briskly, "and appear before them as some kind of God-sent prophet their religions have always preached about?"

"Oui, and think what they will consider you to be, given that you're my nemesis," said Arian, evident amusement glinting in his sky-blue eyes. "It will be interesting to see what they'll do to you, especially now that you have that black aura pulsing all around you." He clicked his tongue, and added chidingly, "And you shouldn't accuse me of using beliefs for my benefit, when you are doing the same with the beliefs that dark wizards hold."

"This is utter insanity," spat Orion frenziedly, as he pinned the wizard with a wild gaze. "You have no idea what you'd be doing if you show yourself to the muggles like that. You have no idea of the consequences-"

"Oh, don't fret," interjected Arian loftily, waving a hand dismissively. "I don't intend to cast my light unto muggles in the immediate future-"

In a split second, Orion had his wand's tip digging painfully into the wizard's neck, as he snarled enraged, "You won't fucking cast your bloody light unto anyone. I will not allow you to reveal our world to the muggles in any way, and much less how you're planning on doing it. I'll bloody rip you to pieces first, and I couldn't care less if I'm not as powerful as you are. I will still-"

"Try it," whispered Arian softly, widely smiling at him with a glint of anticipation glowing in his sky-blue eyes. "Try to kill me right now, and see what happens to you."

Orion's jaw clenched, as his fingers jerkily tightened around his wand, his knuckles turning white. But he wasn't a fool; if the wizard wanted it to happen, then it surely was something he shouldn't do. And he knew he couldn't take on Arian, yet. He was no match for him, at present. He knew it now for sure, due to the magnitude of the power he had felt coming off the light wizard, moments before.

Gritting his teeth, he tucked his wand away, and took a step backwards. And as he forced himself to calm down, he carded his fingers through his hair, and shot the wizard a hard glance, as he said coldly, "Make no mistake, the moment I become the VA, I'll kill you instantly. So if you were expecting to 'play' with me, as you once said, then change your plans and goals. If you persist with them, our confrontation will be immediate."

"Pity, that," said Arian quietly, as he closely regarded him with a strange expression spreading over his face. "But, perhaps, after you become the VA, you will understand what I'm trying to do. Perhaps, you'll come to see that I'm right, and that it's the only feasible way. You'll understand that I can save millions of lives and bring peace into an integrated and unified world." He intently speared him with his gaze, and added in a low whisper, "You'll understand that the wars and deaths can be avoided, and that you don't need to make the rest of the sacrifices that will be demanded of you."

Orion deeply frowned at him, but the wizard continued, now shooting him a soft smile, "But for now, adieu, my 'nemesis'. We'll see each other again soon enough."

In the bat of an eyelash, the wizard had disappeared as if into thin air, and Orion remained standing rock-still, staring at the vacant spot. Finally, with his mind spinning with a thousand thoughts per seconds, he slowly made his way back to the manor, feeling very shaken and disturbed.


	30. Wulfric & the Alphas

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Hi, here's a new update, and it's a long chapter, though most of it revolves around war-planning, so it might not be too exciting for many readers. Ah, and I don't think that I'll be able to update soon, I'm very busy with my studies. But I'll make the next chapter an interesting one, in compensation *winks*

A reviewer asked why Arian is so powerful –more than Orion- when he has supposedly only killed his father to absorb his magic, and given that Orion killed Grindelwald to absorb his. And since both of them killed one person, they should have the same level of power. Well, my reply is quite simple. For now, all we know about Arian are mostly speculations, and it could be that Arian's father was inordinately powerful, and therefore what Arian absorbed was so much that it made him more powerful than Orion –if indeed Arian did kill his father. On the other hand, it could be that Arian was already born being very powerful and that he developed it further along the years, and under the Flamel's tutelage. And, lastly, we have to remember that Arian already considers himself to be the Vindico Lumen, and that has to mean something. Orion supposedly can become the VA after passing a test of some sort, which will change him, according to Grindelwald, and also make him more powerful. So, it could be that Arian has already gone through something similar, since he's already the Vindico Lumen. The possibilities are many, and at some point Orion will figure it out.

**Enjoy & review, please!**

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**Chapter 30**

The moment he crossed the front doors, Calypso was standing in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes, as she rambled out, "I saw it all from the window! Were those things wings? Are they real? How can he…" She shook her head, as if yanking herself out from her bafflement, and mumbled, "Oh, but before I forget…"

She trailed off as she plucked out an envelope from her robes' pocket and handed it to him. "It arrived to Black Manor and Dobby fetched it back when you were outside with Arian."

"At last," muttered Orion, as he saw 'Greyback' scribbled at the sender's side of the envelope. "Took him long enough."

He pulled out the small chain and pendant that Remus had once given him for Christmas, which was also the portkey to Lycaon, and swiftly pocketed it.

The moment he saw that Calypso was about to barrage him with questions again, he shot her a grave glance, and said quickly, "I'll explain what you saw in a minute. We have a larger problem in our hands. He can See into the past."

Calypso's eyes impossibly widened, a completely flummoxed expression spreading over her face. But in a second she swiftly composed herself and pulled him into the parlor, forcing Orion into a seat, and demanding to be told every single detail of his conversation with Arian.

"How can he be a Seer?" asked Calypso perplexed, the moment Orion ended his narration, and he found it slightly amusing that that was the issue which now shocked her the most, instead of the whole Veela-wings and religious thing.

They were sitting across from each other, Orion stretched out on a plush couch, rubbing his forehead, while Calypso was rigidly seated on an armchair, her back straight as a rod, with an expression of deep pondering and puzzled calculation.

"The Seer ability is a blood trait that only manifests in females," she continued sharply. "Even Trelawney told you that there are no male Seers. So how can it be-"

"I haven't the foggiest idea," interrupted Orion with a sigh, shooting her a frazzled glance. "Maybe what he can do isn't Seeing, maybe it's called something else. Maybe he's something else. But it doesn't matter what the bloody hell it is. The point is that he can See into the past, and the immediate one as well, I would say. And that poses a serious problem, because-"

"Because by tomorrow he could have Seen the meetings you'll have today," interjected Calypso, gazing at him with consternation. "And he'll know about all of the Dark's war plans."

"Exactly," sighed out Orion, lifting up a hand to rub his forehead. "I only see one solution-"

"To contact Trelawney?" piped in Calypso, frowning.

"Yes," replied Orion shortly, while he massaged his temples. "She has to be powerful since the Spirits chose her to be an Aux Atrum. And I vaguely remember reading somewhere that Seers can block each other out – though it wasn't explained in depth, from what I recall. But maybe if I take her along with me during the meetings, she could block Arian from Seeing what goes on."

"Alright," said Calypso, shooting him a weary glance. "Yes, I think it would be the only solution, if it's possible." She leaned towards him, and added worriedly, "I think Arian must have already used this ability of his lately. Two days ago, when you were still sick in bed in Voldemort's room, a Death Eater raid was crushed. The moment they started raiding wizarding Birmingham, they were confronted by the Order of the Phoenix, and they were greatly outnumbered since it had been planned as just a small raid. My father barely made it out unscathed, and many of the other Death Eater in the mission were badly injured." She sighed, and nibbled on her bottom lip. "My dad told me that Voldemort was furious. The Dark Lord thinks there has to be a spy in his ranks-"

"Well, that does it, then," interrupted Orion, swiftly conjuring inked quill and parchment and starting writing to Trelawney, while he continued thinking out loud. "If Arian saw Voldemort planning the raid and then alerted the Order, then it's clear that McGonagall knows about Arian and she must also know that Dumbledore is alive. I doubt the rest of the Order has been told, because I think Snape was right when he told me what Dumbledore would do… play dead until deciding to pop in during some important battle to uplift Light morale and such… yes, it would make sense…"

He trailed off as soon as he finished the letter, and instantly called out for Dobby. The house-elf was swiftly given precise instructions: to go to wizarding Liverpool and send from there the letter to Trelawney by public owl-post; and then stay at the owl-posting office until a reply arrived, after which Dobby would have to instantly apparate back to Potter Manor with the response.

The moment Dobby popped away, Orion leaned back on his seat, and gritted out angrily, "Voldemort didn't breathe a word to me about the raid. And by Circe, I don't know why he persists in doing raids and having small skirmishes with the Order -"

"To spread terror in the light wizarding community," stated Calypso firmly.

"It's not the way to do it!" snapped Orion, leveling her with a hard gaze. "This war has to be won swiftly, as fast as possible!" He carded his finger through his hair, and clenched his jaw. "Having small skirmishes only wastes our time and effort, they exhaust our people, and give the Light side time to gather more forces." He pierced her with his eyes, and added sharply, "The longer we take, the greater chances that the French will come to their aid. Dumbledore is already working on it! We need to have one or two great battles to settle who controls England, and that's it!"

"I see your reasoning," said Calypso quietly, before she shot him an intense, piercing glance, "but one or two battles won't be enough. We don't only have to take control over wizarding London, but also over Dublin and Edinburgh, so that the conquest of Great Britain is complete. As a first step, England is not enough. It would be best if we took control of all British Isles."

"You're absolutely right. And they should be taken at the same time," interjected Orion, frowning musingly, "without letting one help the other. If we count with werewolf and vampire fighters, then we won't be spread too thin. After all, taking those cities only means that we have to take control over their Ministries of Magic, hospitals like St. Mungo's, and perhaps even their prisons like Azkaban, so that the freed prisoners can be added to our ranks. Once we take over that, control over commercial centers such as Diagon Alley, and the like, will automatically fall in our hands."

Calypso broadly smiled at him. "If we can pull it off, then Hogwarts will also fall into our hands without needing to do anything-"

"No," said Orion sharply, glancing up at her. "I have other plans for Hogwarts. It shouldn't be touched or meddled with, even after we have control over the English Ministry of Magic."

"Why on earth not?" demanded Calypso, frowning at him. "What plans do you have for it?"

"I'll tell you later," said Orion shortly, waving a hand dismissively, "after I come back from my meetings. I still have to see if what I propose will be accepted."

"Fine," granted Calypso with a sigh. Then a frown spread over her face, and she intently gazed at him. "You know, if Trelawney can somehow block Arian from Seeing, you can use her for your meeting at Lycaon, but you cannot take her to the Dark Allies meeting. How would you explain it to Voldemort?"

"I will not be taking her to that meeting," said Orion impassively. "I'll simply tell Voldemort about Arian's past-Seeing ability, and he'll have to find his own Seer. In fact, I'll do that right now, to give him enough time…"

Calypso seemed about to say something, but she kept silent when a look of concentration spread over his face.

In the blink of an eye, Orion slightly lowered his Occlumency shields, and called out inside his mind, 'Tom! Answer me, I have important news-'

'_I'm very busy, boy,'_ hissed an impatient voice in his mind. _'Your news rather be crucial or-_'

'They are,' snapped Orion briskly. 'I saw Arian today, he appeared outside Rosier Manor, and I discovered something. I think he can See into the past-'

'_Dumbledore's alleged grandnephew went to Rosier Manor to see you?'_ hissed Voldemort's voice in a low, deadly tone, as a stab of pain flared in Orion's forehead. _'Why did you allow it?'_ His voice became more enraged, and Orion gritted his teeth against the increasing onslaught of pain, as the voice continued hissing, _'Why would you meet him, and why would he-'_

'That's of no consequence,' bit out Orion impatiently. 'The point is that he can See into the past. I'm sure of it. As I'm sure, as well, that he was the one to alert the Order about your raid, the one you didn't tell me about! Anyway, he's some sort of Seer, so you should get one for the Dark Allies Meeting.'

When he heard Voldemort start to furiously hiss something, he snapped shortly, 'Look, just find a bloody Seer and make sure that he or she can block from other Seers what goes on during the meeting!'

And without giving the wizard the chance to hiss anything else, he slammed his Occlumency shields up, and slumped back against his couch, angrily rubbing his aching forehead.

"That's it? You told him already?" asked Calypso, staring at him with a frown. When Orion simply nodded at her, she pressed her lips into a thin line, and said reprovingly, "It only took you a couple of seconds, so you couldn't have been very friendly to him. And if that's how you always interact with him, then I'm not surprised he dumped you-"

Orion snorted loudly, and said acidly, "What, did you expect me to give a long-winded explanation and be all lovey-dovey with him? I learned my lesson about being 'loving' with Voldemort, and I'm not making the same mistake twice. I have my bloody pride, and we get along just fine by being crisp with each other."

She let out an exasperated sigh, but seemed to find that discussing the matter was pointless. Finally, she pierced him with her eyes, and asked quietly, "You told him to get a Seer for the Meeting, right?"

"Yeah," replied Orion, still rubbing his pounding forehead. "I only hope it's true that Seers can block things from each other, because if not… Well, we're screwed, as simple as that."

"Don't worry, I think they truly can," she said quietly. "I also remember having read something about it. But…" She shot him an uneasy glance. "Well, you know who Voldemort will force to attend the meeting, don't you?"

Orion's head jerked upwards, and he stared at her with round eyes. "You think the rumors are true?"

"Yes," replied Calypso, nodding firmly. "I have always believed it. How else would she have known when her husband of turn was cheating on her, or plotting to kill her to get her fortune and the like?"

"Well," said Orion pensively, "that would answer the question of why she disposed of her husbands-"

"Yes, but my point is," interjected Calypso, shooting him a concerned glance, "that they wanted to stay out of the war. They wanted to remain neutral. And he will not be happy that you made Voldemort drag his mother into it."

"There isn't any other choice," said Orion curtly, leveling her with a hard gaze. "Blaise will have to deal with it."

Calypso was about to say something when, abruptly, Dobby popped before them, looking a bit haggard as he handed a small letter to Orion.

Orion quickly dismissed the house-elf, and urgently ripped the envelope open, a frown spreading on his face when he read the short missive.

"He will not See clearly as long as you're present at the gatherings," read Orion out loud, his frown deepening when he turned the parchment around to see if there was more written on it. He handed the letter to Calypso, and shot her a perplexed glance. "That's it. Trelawney doesn't say anything else. What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

Calypso frowned as she read it for herself, and finally quizzically gazed up at Orion, as she said musingly, "You told me that your visions about him are always very brief and foggy, right? And you've always had them merely hours before you met him and they came true… Just today, you mentioned that you had dreamt something about wings… and then it happened, but your vision didn't show you any of the rest…"

She tapped a finger on her chin, as she continued pensively, "Then, if we take into account what Trelawney wrote, there must be something about the both of you that makes it impossible for either of you to fully see anything regarding the other. It must be something about your unique kind of magic, and also his, I suppose. But it's clear that Arian didn't tell you the complete truth about his past-Seeing ability."

Pausing, Calypso looked up at him, and shot him a triumphant smile. "I think we can safely deduce that when it comes to you, he cannot See clearly, in the same way that your visions about him are always very brief and rather worthless, just mere glimpses of foggy images. From everything you had talked about with Grindelwald before you killed him, Arian only mentioned knowing what you had said about 'putting wings on him'. That's all he Saw, he didn't discern much else! And what he knows about VA matters, he could have learned from Seeing an Aux Atrum meeting, or any time in which the Spirits must have talked to Karkaroff, Vagnarov or later Komorov – never when you were present."

She waved Trelawney's letter, and added with satisfaction, "So it must be as she says. As long as you're physically present in any meeting or moment in which war-plans are discussed, Arian will not be able to See what goes on. He won't be able to learn much about our plans. And now, neither will he about any Death Eater meeting since Voldemort will surely force Blaise's mum to be present in all of them from hence forth."

Silently, Orion nodded in agreement, while his mind rushed, trying to figure out one last, crucial matter. If Arian couldn't See him clearly, did that apply to all his past lives as well? If so, if Arian didn't know about his past lives through his past-Seeing ability, then it could only mean that the light wizard actually remembered all his own reincarnations, including the ones during which they had supposedly known each other…

And it was rather mind-boggling and confusing, since he didn't know how the wizard had been able to remember all his reincarnations. It was something that just didn't happen. His own one-week experience was an exception, since it had been brought on by Cadmus' doings when he had disposed of the Dementor.

Feeling utterly clueless about the matter, and deciding to ponder about it at some other time, Orion sighed and wearily carded his fingers through his hair.

Then he snatched the letter from Calypso's hand, and angrily stared at the short sentence, as he grumbled out, "Trelawney could have explained a little bit more, couldn't she? I mean, it's obvious that she knows about Arian, more than we do, apparently. Yet, besides clearly refusing to go to any meetings with me, she doesn't even explain how his ability works. Or how it's possible that he's a Seer when she herself told me that there are no male Seers. And to top it, she doesn't even confirm if she could have been able to block him out if it had been necessary!"

Calypso huffed, and said matter-of-factly, "Well, I didn't expect anything else. Seers are known to be very secretive. In fact, it's believed that they take an oath of some kind when they become full-fledged, pledging to never interfere in wizarding business, no matter what they See. I don't think they're allowed to act on what they See of the future, or to tell anyone else-"

"Yeah, well, then Trelawney broke her Seer oath several times, didn't she?" interjected Orion sourly, crumbling the letter in his hand, flicking his wand at it and then watching as it burned to dust. "First, by becoming an Aux Atrum, who have always interfered in wizarding matters, and then by purposely spouting the prophecy when Dumbledore interviewed her for the Divination post!"

He shot to his feet, still feeling very annoyed and angered, and said shortly, "I'm going to get dressed."

"I'll come along," piped in Calypso, hurriedly following him as he briskly strode out of the parlor and towards the family-wing of the manor.

"I don't know what Arian is playing at," hissed out Orion, as they made their way along a hallway. "He evidently wanted me to know that he could See into the past. And he openly disclosed to me his plans about revealing himself to the muggles." He shot her an angered side-glance, and gritted out, "What kind of wizard reveals so much to his enemy? And why? It makes no sense."

"Well, that's just it," huffed out Calypso, letting out a pant as she hurried to match his long, brisk strides. "From what you've told me about your interactions with him, he likes to play with you. He obviously sees you as his enemy. But, on the other hand, from what I saw from the window, I would almost say that he seems to be infatuated with you..."

She trailed off, a frown spreading on her forehead, while Orion almost missed a step as he blanched. The only thing he hadn't told her about, nor anyone else, was what Vagnarov had taken to the grave – about his past lives. Thus, he hadn't told her either the stuff that Arian had said about the matter, nor about the wizard's blatant hints that they had known each other quite intimately during several reincarnations.

"But he's a light wizard," continued Calypso matter-of-factly, her frown vanishing to be replaced by an unfazed expression, "and they do stupidly tend to want to be all noble and fair. So perhaps he wanted you to know about all that because he wants to play fairly with you-"

"Not this light wizard," snapped Orion sharply, as he yanked open the door of his bedroom and made way to his closet. He rummaged through his clothes, as he continued angrily, "He wanted me to know to make me panic, or worry me, at the very least."

"Oh, let me do it!" said Calypso impatiently, bumping him out of the way as she started going through his closet, inspecting all the robes and attires with a critical and connoisseur's eye. "And do you really believe that he'll do it? You know, appear before a bunch of muggles, in one of their cities, coming down from the skies, glowing and with wings and all?"

"Yes, I have no doubt that he wants to reveal himself to them," replied Orion shortly, as he crossed his arms over his bare chest, standing to a side while he observed her peruse his closet. He sighed, and added quietly, "And by Circe that if I was a light wizard with his same aims, I would have hoped to come up with an idea like that. It's brilliant, if you think about it. Well, if he knows how to pull it off, that is."

"Ah – this is perfect!" she said victoriously, and she flicked her wand repeatedly, making an ensemble of clothes and accessories fly from the closet to lie neatly on his bed. "But do you think muggles would believe him? I mean, what would be their reaction if they saw something like that?"

"In this time and age," said Orion, coming close to the bed to peer at what she had chosen, "I have no idea what muggles would think if Arian appeared before them as he's planning on doing. Either they would believe that he's a weirdo doing special effects stuff and he wouldn't be taken seriously, or they would try to commit him in some mental institution, or he would be shot. So, you see, the question is how he's planning on doing it. With wings and spouting religious non-sense?"

He scoffed, and continued tartly, "I doubt it. At least not at first, because it could put him in a very dangerous and tricky situation. But will he make a display of some sort of magical feat that would validate his claims? Yes, that he will do for sure. And considering how powerful he is, then he could easily convince even the most recalcitrant muggle that he is indeed some sort of messiah. After all, even the most mediocre of wizards can do spells that would astound and dazzle any muggle. And about eighty-five percent of the muggles believe in some religion or other, and many take it very seriously and devoutly-"

He clamped his mouth shut, shot her a glance of disbelief, and pointed at the attire she had selected for him. "That's what you want me to wear to the meetings? Isn't it a bit too much?"

"That's what you're wearing," she said firmly, leveling him with a hard gaze. "Every single detail about your appearance is important. Each detail conveys something about you. And you have to look formal, dashing, intimidating, and mouth-watering powerful. So start unfolding that black aura of yours as you get dressed."

Orion sighed with resignation, eyeing the attire that Narcissa had once ordered for him. It was elegant, but also very formal, a bit severe, and all together too much of it. The ensemble was comprised of so many items that it would take him forever to get dressed and to have all of it in its proper place; cravat, cravat-pin, shirt, waistcoat, vest, doublet, breeches, belt, boots, cufflinks and over-robes. Except for the shirt that was white, the rest were black or of a very dark gray, with silver-thread linings on lapels and hems, and with small Black crests embroidered also in silver-thread on the cuffs.

"It's summer," he grumbled, shooting her a wary glance, "I'm going to die of suffocation, wearing all that."

"Don't be a prat," snapped Calypso impatiently, "just use a cooling charm, like everyone else. Stop whining and start getting dressed, or you'll be late for your first meeting."

With another resigned sigh, Orion got to it, while she stood to a side with crossed arms, supervising his endeavor.

"So," said Calypso, intently gazing at him to make sure he was putting on everything she had chosen, "in essence, muggles believe in some god or other, in a similar way to how we believe in Magic?"

"Yes, kind of," replied Orion, his voice becoming muffled when he pulled the shirt over his head. "What we call Magic, they call a higher power –name it God, or whatever else." His head popped out through the shirt's collar, and he continued, as he started slipping his arms through the sleeves, "But the point is that many muggles could end up believing Arian, especially with the power he has and the things he must be able to do. And to top it, he has the Veela hypnotizing allure thing, which he can apparently blast off in waves. That thing even affected me, and that's a first. It never happened to me with Fleur. So the power he could hold over those muggles could be great indeed. I shudder to imagine it, or the consequences, but he could have a fanatical cult of millions."

As he started pulling on the breeches, he shot her a glance, and added gravely, "I'm hardly an expert, but if we count Christianity alone, I think there are about two billion muggles that believe in it. There's also Islam, as the following largest religion in terms of adherents, with about one and a half billion believers. And then I think comes Hinduism and Buddhism."

Orion huffed with exasperation as he hopped on one foot, trying to tug the breeches up one of his legs, and he snapped briskly, "Lengthen and enlarge the bloody thing, will you?"

"You've had a growth spurt," said Calypso surprised, then watching him with amusement as he wrestled with it, before she took pity and flicked her wand at it. "My, I would even say that now you're taller than I am."

"I've always been taller than you!" bit out Orion, incorporating himself to a standing position as soon as he managed to get the breeches on.

"No, no," interjected Calypso, loudly chuckling. "This is recent."

Orion shot her a dark glare, and then proceeded to put on the rest of the ensemble.

"So what Arian plans to do poses a serious threat?" said Calypso musingly. "You really think that?"

"Yes!" snapped Orion with vexation, as he struggled with the form-fitting waistcoat. "Now I don't only have to watch out for Voldemort attempting to use the Mayan Stone to annihilate muggles, but also for Arian revealing himself to them. And either of those actions will obviously make the muggles become aware of us."

"And what can you do to stop Arian's plan?" pressed on Calypso, deeply frowning at him.

"Well, it depends when he's planning on doing it, doesn't it?" replied Orion shortly, yanking the vest from the bed. "He said he wouldn't do anything in the immediate future, but that can mean months, a year, or several, who knows. But if he attempts to do it after I have become the Vindico, then I hope I'll be powerful enough to kill him swiftly. And if he plans on doing it before…"

He sighed, and shot her a worried glance. "Well, I don't know. I will have to stop him, evidently. But I still have to think what could be done, even under the scenario that I don't manage to stop him from revealing himself to the muggles. I will have to consider every scenario and all possible ways of stopping him, or of dealing with the consequences if I don't stop him in time."

When he finished buttoning up the doublet, he added firmly as he shot her a glance, "But two things are clear. First, we don't know yet what his true goals are. I don't believe for a second that he doesn't care about Light magic dwindling out. Nevertheless, I do believe that he truly wants to integrate the muggle and wizarding worlds as peacefully as possible, by using and manipulating the muggles' religious beliefs. So his plan to reveal himself to the muggles must also somehow contribute to make the Light stronger, against dark wizarding kind but also stronger magically. He's the Vindico Lumen, for Circe's sake, so everything he does must be for the purpose of making the Light side stronger, so that they can dominate us in the end."

He paused, hopping as he fitted his feet into the black dragon-hide boots, and finally straightened up, and shot her a piercing and hard glance. "And second, it's clear that we need to know more about all muggle religions. Particularly how he can use those beliefs and how we can use them as well to turn the tables on him. Because if he can influence muggles directly, we can do it covertly. There are a lot of factions amongst them, and if subtly done, it would be easy to pitch muggles against each other. They have a very bloody history, even more so when it comes to religious wars."

Calypso's eyebrows shot upwards, before a determined expression spread over her face. "Alright, then I'll go to muggle London today and I'll get books about their religions and every other thing that can be of use to us. I can take care of the chore of researching the subject."

"Great," said Orion, shooting her a grateful smile, while he pulled the over-robes on his shoulders. "But I think you should enlist Titania's help as well, or you'll never finish by your own. You can work on it with her during the month I'll be at Zraven Citadel."

She nodded at him in agreement, and he shot her a glance while he started wrapping the cravat under his shirt's collar. "Have you written to the Elite yet?"

"No," replied Calypso calmly, "I'll do it once you leave." She shot him a smile, and added, "But I think they'll agree to stay here during their holidays, so don't worry."

"I hope so, it would make matters simpler," said Orion, gazing down at the cravat with an annoyed frown. "And where's your dad? I haven't seen him today."

"He's still sleeping - oh, let me do that!" she snapped with exasperation, swatting his fumbling fingers away from the cravat as she expertly started to tie it. "He must have come back very late at night, because when I checked on him, he was deeply asleep. So it's obvious that the Aux did have a meeting last night."

"I feel like a hubby," grumbled Orion under his breath, as she kept arranging his cravat and then proceeded to straighten out his cuffs and lapels.

"And I'm supposed to be acting like your wifey?" scoffed Calypso with a roll of her eyes, slapping away his hand when he attempted to interfere with the way in which she was arranging his attire. "Your stint with the Malfoys served to give you some sense of style, but your appearance lacks a witch's unique touch. So stop fussing and let me do my work!"

Orion glanced down at her, and groused out, "You're very bossy today."

"I'm always bossy," she piped in, shooting him a smug smirk. "And that's the way you like me."

"No comments," muttered Orion under his breath.

Calypso shot a punch at his arm, accompanied by a smile, and then took a step back to contemplate him. "There, almost done – ah!"

She instantly flicked her wand, and the cravat-pin and cufflinks zoomed towards Orion and quickly clicked into their place.

Pensively tapping her wand's tip on her chin, her gaze focused on the top of his head, and she said musingly, "Now we only need to do something about your hairstyle."

"My hair is just fine, Scaly!" snapped Orion, hassled. "I'm not going to a bloody ball-"

"What did I tell you?" said Calypso sharply, shooting him a reproving glance. "Let me do my work." She tapped her wand's tip on her chin again, her gaze fixed on him, while she mused out loud, "Now, we could make it long, like Lucius Malfoy's or the Lestrange brothers', but you're too young, so it isn't proper. And I don't think it would suit you at present. But this young pureblood hairstyle that you usually adopt doesn't suit you either. It's too school-boyish. You need something different." She speared him with a glance, and widely smiled at him. "A cool, rebel look, I would say."

And with a flick of her wand, Orion felt magic tingling on his hair, and he approached the full-body mirror to see what the witch had done to him.

"The just-shagged look," he scoffed out, staring at his reflection as Calypso appeared on it when she stood by his side, "that's what my dad would call it."

"Well, I dare say your dad knows what he's talking about," she said, shooting him a grin through the mirror's reflection. "You look good. It suits you."

"I always look good," interjected Orion, widely smirking at her as he pointed a finger at their image on the mirror. "Aha! See, I'm much taller than you."

"Now, you are," said Calypso pointedly. She swiftly turned around to face him, and pulled him back to the middle of the room, as she said with a large smile, "Alright, now let's see more of that aura of yours."

Orion calmly obeyed, and instantly felt and saw the difference when he released control over his magical core, as he had began learning to do all over again during his stay with Voldemort.

"More?" asked Orion, side-glancing at her.

Calypso widely smirked at him, her beautiful, large black eyes glinting. "More. Much, much more."

"Perfect," she breathed out at last, when Orion had completely let go off any restraint over his magical aura, her gaze trailing over him like an artist's evaluating her masterpiece, her expression one of appreciation and smug satisfaction. "You're ready to go. Oh, and give my regards to Remus."

Orion shot her a large grin. "Ow, and none to poor Severus? Your paramour will be crushed."

His grin instantly dropped when Calypso paled, and with a worried frown, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him. "Did he say something nasty to you when you saw him during the bond-breaking ritual? You know that he's snarky and cranky with everyone. You shouldn't take it personally."

"I know," she said sharply, instantly squaring her shoulders and jerking up her chin with a hard expression on her face.

"Er, well," said Orion waveringly, trying to uplift her mood. "If you truly like him, you'll have a chance, Scaly-"

Calypso scoffed, and said matter-of-factly, "He sees me as nothing more than a pathetic little schoolgirl."

"And, as I was saying," interjected Orion, shooting her a large smile, "you'll have a chance to change his views during the war, won't you?"

"Perhaps," she said skeptically. She sighed, and then wanly smiled at him, as she said pointedly, "Don't you need to go?"

"Yeah, I do, but I want you to cheer up!" said Orion, as he started gathering the last things he needed before leaving the manor.

Once he had the pendant-portkey and the rings in his pocket, and his wands secured in their holsters, he turned around to face her, and said warmly, "I want to see Draco before leaving. Do you want to come along?"

"Of course," said Calypso instantly, no longer looking as dejected as before as a bright smile spread on her face.

"I was thinking," said Orion, as they made their way to Draco's room, which was just across the hall from his, "that I want you to tell your father all the details about my conversation with Arian. And I want him to inform Komorov. The Aux need to know about Arian's plan, and perhaps they'll be able to help as well."

"Consider it done," said Calypso, shooting him a large smile.

"Thanks," said Orion gratefully, as he opened the door of Draco's room and gestured at her to get inside.

They both reached the bedside at the same time, and Orion gazed down at Draco's unconscious form, frowning as he lightly grazed his fingers along the young wizard's locks of platinum blond hair.

"You know," he murmured quietly, his gaze riveted on Draco's face, "Arian cares about the seventy million muggles that died 'the last time', as he puts it. I, on the other hand, care about the wizards who died in Grindelwald's wizarding war. A quarter of a million wizards died, forty percent of the whole adult wizarding population of Europe. Something like that cannot happen again, or there'll be nothing left of us. The wars must be short, and won very swiftly, with one or two major battles per country conquered. No more. We cannot afford to let it drag for eight years like happened during Grindelwald's time. So it will have to be swift, and thus, brutal."

With his gaze still fixed on Draco's face, and his fingers still caressing the wizard's hair, he continued quietly, as his frown deepened, "And I don't know who I was kidding before. Arian is right about me, in a couple of things." He glanced up at Calypso. "I want it all, Scaly. I want to be the Vindico. I want to fight the way I see myself fighting in my visions, I want to hear those voices hailing me, yelling and chanting my name as if it was the most important thing in their lives, as if their lives indeed depended solely on me. I want my dark magic to sweep over the battleground, I want to be there, seeing it, living it, leading vampires, werewolves and dark wizards." He gestured at Draco, adding firmly, "And I want him. I want Lezander. And I also want Voldemort. I don't want to choose, not between them, nor between my goals and one or the three of them."

Calypso stared at him with wide eyes, apparently too struck to say anything. Finally, she cleared her throat, and murmured quietly, "Alright."

Orion arched a quizzical eyebrow. "Alright? That's everything you have to say? You're not going to berate me-"

"No," huffed out Calypso. "Of course not." She widely smiled at him. "You want it all. I understand. So attain all."

"Right." Orion shot her a large grin, as he chuckled under his breath. "I intend to."

"And I'll be there to help you along the way," said Calypso, her smile spreading as she grasped his hand.

"I could have never asked for a better friend than you, or for a better plotting-partner," said Orion, still chuckling, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Indeed, he felt a pervading sense that it was right; to want the three of them, to love the three of them. He didn't care if it was selfish of him, he didn't care if it was unfair to them, and he didn't care about Gellert having repeatedly said that the VA had 'no mate, no equal, no love, his path is one of darkness, pain, and solitude'. He didn't care about the prophecy either. And he didn't even fear the visions he had of himself, about that all-black eyed unscrupulous and ruthless wizard whose magic raged over the battlefield.

That vision had always perturbed him, making him feel ominous dread and fear of what he could become. But strangely, he didn't feel that anymore. Strangely, that fear had slowly dissolved, and he realized now that it didn't worry him any longer. He had the certainty that whatever happened to him, however much he changed, it was meant to happen and it could only be for the best. And he was sure that he was strong enough to remain unchanged where it mattered; in beliefs, in thoughts, in personality and in essence.

In short, he felt as if he had finally admitted and embraced what he truly was and all his desires and ambitions, with no shame, doubts, fears, or remorse. And it left him feeling, for the first time, self-assured in everything he did and would do in the future, no matter what the consequences were.

"I must leave now. I'll see you at night to tell you how the meetings went," said Orion, shooting her a last smile before he made his way out of the room.

When he reached the threshold, he halted mid-step, and shot her a glance over his shoulder, as he said quietly, "When you go to muggle London to buy the books, also buy several about muggle warfare, their technology and all their different kinds of weapons. Please, also research into that with Titania and the rest of the Elite, and start thinking how we could counter muggle weaponry, especially the ones of mass destruction. It would be nice if you came up with a list of spells that could be useful, and if you started thinking about the ones that should be created."

Calypso stared at him with wide eyes, and she gasped out in alarm, "Surely you don't think it will come to that! Open war? Against the muggle world?! But- "

"Using Arian's words, not in the immediate future," said Orion calmly. "But in a couple of years, if Arian cannot be stopped, then it's a possibility we must prepare ourselves for - as of now."

And with that he left the room, leaving her in shocked and perturbed silence, and he soon plucked out the pendant from his pocket, and tapped it with his wand, as he murmured, "Padfoot."

* * *

The moment his feet landed on grass-covered grounds, he flicked his wand, sighing with relief when the cooling charm wrapped around his body, battling off the wave of heat that had assaulted him. A blazing sun was shining high up in the clear sky, making the forest surrounding Lycaon look as if it was thrumming in vibrant greens of tree leaves and bright purples of the wild flowers scattered around.

As he made his way through the dense foliage towards the werewolf town, Orion flicked his wand again and hissed under his breath the parsel-invisibility spell. With a few more strides he reached the edge of the forest and halted before entering the clearing that spread in front of the warded wooden fence of Lycaon.

A few paces in front of the entrance to the town, there was a large wooden table, surrounded by chairs, only occupied by a very few who were obviously waiting for him. And none of the occupants looked content with the situation. Behind them, the town was bustling, people coming and going while doing their tasks, apparently knowing about the meeting that would take place but not deeming that it was appropriate for them to forsake their duties in the community to stand as an audience.

Meanwhile, Orion took time to observe the occupants at the table without being seen, before revealing his presence.

Seated at one side of the table, Remus was flanked by Fenrir Greyback on one side and Sirius on the other. Remus' expression was one of calmness, though there was a certain stiff tension on his shoulders, as one of Greyback's arms was draped over the back of Remus' chair. Indeed, Greyback didn't look as if he could be any closer to Remus. Their sides were touching, obviously purposely on Greyback's part, but besides the rigidity of Remus' shoulders, there wasn't any other sign of discomfort from Remus or any attempt to pull away.

Yet, in contrast to Remus' mask of impassivity, Greyback looked slightly uneasy and uncertain, repeatedly casting glances at Remus. And to Orion's surprise, even though the older werewolf looked impeccably groomed and much healthier and content than the last time he had seen the man, there were several deep scars on his face – of recently inflicted wounds, which looked to have been made by claws. It was evident that Remus had been the one to scratch Greyback's face at some point, to fend him off, most probably. But there wasn't any anger on Greyback's expression, but frustration and a certain glint of remorse and plea in the man's golden eyes as he shot Remus another glance.

All in all, Remus seemed to have taken Greyback's reappearance into his life with cool-headed equanimity; as if Greyback was just an inconvenience that had to be dealt with and somehow disposed of. On the other hand, Sirius looked sickly pale, as if he was suffering from a gut-wrenching indigestion from merely watching Remus with Greyback.

Orion observed his father with bemusement. It was clear that Sirius had been told just what Greyback was to Remus, and the man had obviously not taken it well. Though, he was also certain that the more sordid details of Remus' relationship with Greyback hadn't been disclosed to Sirius. He doubted his father would be sitting there without attempting to rip off Greyback's throat if he knew just how Greyback had claimed Remus when Remus had been a ten-year-old boy.

However, Sirius' gray eyes were dangerously narrowed at Greyback, glowering at the werewolf's attempts to catch Remus' attention. And Greyback often shot Sirius a snarling growl when their gazes met, the older werewolf inching closer to Remus with a possessive and marking-territory attitude, while Sirius' lips thinned and a fierce scowl spread over his face. And Orion realized that besides the tension between the trio, jealousy was rampant between Greyback and Sirius, both measuring each other up and silently fighting over who had more claim over Remus: a rejected mate or a life-time best friend. And in the middle of it, Remus simply ignored both, staring straight ahead into vacant space, waiting.

The only ones who seemed to be affected by Sirius' and Greyback's attitudes were Patrick Connolly and Severus Snape. Connolly was seated across from the trio, his expression one of veiled exasperation as the young werewolf's amber eyes flickered from Greyback to Remus, and with narrowed-eyed suspicion and his typical dislike for wizards when his gaze landed on Sirius. On the other hand, Snape was seated at the other end of the table, as far away as possible from the others. The wizard's expression was one of sourness, with a sneering curl of his lips and open disgust for the company he was being forced to be in.

Suddenly, Snape's black eyes snapped in Orion's direction, narrowing and searchingly flickering through the trees. Knowing that the wizard had sensed his presence, Orion finally flicked his wand, cancelling his invisibility, and he calmly strode towards the table.

Their reactions to the way he looked, and most importantly to the thick dark magical aura that pulsed around him, were as dissimilar as could be. Snape's eyes had narrowed to slits, fixedly staring at him with a calculating glint in his eyes, undoubtedly with his brilliant mind fast at work and probably quickly reaching all the right conclusions regarding recent events. A flash of surprise and awe had spread on Connolly's ruggedly handsome face, before it changed to an expressionless mask. The young werewolf now stared at him with guarded wariness, as if he was gazing at someone who had become a force to reckon and a valuable ally to retain.

On the other hand, understanding had instantly dawned in Remus' eyes, accompanied by a flicker of sadness and resigned acceptance. Greyback looked unfazed about the whole matter, his lips merely quirking upwards as his golden eyes roved over Orion, before taking the opportunity of Remus' distraction to make his arm touch Remus' back. And Sirius looked as if all his worse suspicions had become true. All color had drained from his face, making the dark circles of sleepless nights stand out more markedly, as a pained and slightly frantic expression spread over his features, his lips thinning while he shook his head in mute denial.

The moment he saw that his father was about to say something, Orion held up a hand while he drew out a chair to take a seat. "Before anyone starts demanding explanations, I need to know what you two are doing here."

He gazed demandingly at Greyback and Connolly, as he sat down and calmly stretched out his legs under the table. "Well?"

"What do ye mean, Black?" snapped Connolly gruffly, narrowing amber eyes at him. "I'm m'Alpha's Beta, and this will be a meeting with the Alphas of continental Europe. It's my right to be present."

"They will arrive in fifteen minutes," interjected Orion pointedly, as he quickly checked his wristwatch. "And I was counting on those minutes to discuss certain matters with them." He gestured at his father, Remus, and Snape, and glanced back at Connolly, as he added, "I cannot discuss matters openly if you're here-"

"It seems that power has gone to your head, boy," snarled Greyback, leaning forward to pin him with threatening golden eyes. "I'm the co-Alpha of Lycaon, you're my guest here, and anything you need to discuss with my mate you'll discuss with me as well."

"Oh, so you're the co-Alpha already?" said Orion, shooting him a nasty smile as his gaze flickered to Remus and back to him. "Really? I know the pack must have immediately accepted you back into their fold, but I didn't know that your mate had." Greyback's jaw tightened in anger, a muscle pulsing underneath the shaved skin, and he added coolly, "Look, I have no problem if you and Connolly want to listen to our conversation, but you'll have to agree to have a compulsion mind-web cast on you. I don't trust either of you with my secrets, so it's that or nothing."

"I'm not goin' to allow a wizard to muck about in my mind," bit out Connolly harshly, piercing him with angered, narrowed eyes.

"It was cast on the three of us," interjected Remus, calmly gazing at his Beta while he gestured at Sirius and Snape. "And given the nature of what we need to discuss, what Orion asks for is fair. The spell has done no damage to us, it's merely a precaution."

Seeing that Remus' words seemed to instantly reassure Connolly, Orion shot Remus a grateful smile, but it wasn't answered back. It was clear to him that Remus was not very happy with him, undoubtedly due to what he had done to Nymphadora Tonks and also because he was the reason why Greyback was back in Remus' life.

Nevertheless, Orion wasn't fazed by it. What mattered was that he wanted Connolly and Greyback to accept his terms, especially in Connolly's case since he had long ago decided that he wanted to make the young werewolf become one of his followers, at some point. He needed that direct liaison with the werewolves, and Connolly was someone he wanted to brand with his mark. Therefore, it was the perfect opportunity for Connolly to learn more about him.

He didn't care about Greyback either way. But he knew that Connolly would make sure that Remus and Greyback solved the issues between them. Connolly saw Greyback as a father-figure and he liked Remus as his Alpha, so he was certain that the young werewolf would be the driving force behind the reconciliation between Remus and Greyback. Therefore, at some point Greyback would have to be privy to all VA matters, and the sooner that was dealt with, the better.

It seemed that Remus' words had done the trick. Connolly still seemed reluctant and suspicious as Orion aimed his wand at him while hissing the parsel-spell. And when it was Greyback's turn, the werewolf snarled several menacing words regarding dismemberment if the spell did any harm to him, but the man ended up accepting it with an expression of dislike but also with a stoic attitude, no doubt because he was being watched by Remus.

Once it was done, Orion tucked his wand back into its holster, and said calmly as he gazed at the two werewolves, "Since we don't have much time, it would be better if you only listened without asking any questions. There's much you don't know about, but Remus will be able to fill you in about everything later."

Before either of them had the time to agree or disagree, Sirius had already jumped to his feet, seemingly unable to control himself any longer, and he barked out sharply, "Can I speak at last?!" His gaze frenziedly focused on Orion's face, as if searching for answers in his expression. "What's all this that the papers are spouting about?! About Lily, you, and Grindelwald! Am I supposed to believe that rubbish?!" His hand jerkily gestured at Orion, and he snapped angrily, "And this thing around you… this... this dark magic, it means what? That you killed the mass-murderer as you said you would? As the prophecy foretold? And then, what? I demand to know what has been going on, pup! That statue ice thing, did you do that? Why did it say that Grindelwald was a grandfather-"

"Your cognitive abilities are as pathetic and deplorable as ever, mutt," sneered Snape, contempt oozing from his silky voice. "Even your pea-sized brain should be able to deduce and comprehend what happened and the implications of it." He shot Sirius a scathing, contemptuous glare across the wide distance between them, and continued tartly, "It should be evident to you that Lily was Grindelwald's daughter, and thus, that your son is his grandson, as stated by Orion when he created the monument for Grindelwald's grave."

"Shut your hole, Snivellus!" spat Sirius without glancing at the wizard, his dark grey eyes still intently fixed on Orion's face. "Your mother couldn't have been Grindelwald's daughter, pup! Lily was a muggleborn and a light witch-"

Snape scoffed, and a nasty smirk curled his lips as he stared at Sirius with vicious and cruel enjoyment. "Lily was much more than she appeared. The moment I first met her when we were children, I knew it. I felt it. She was like me, a halfblood dark magical child. And all this time, you've been in love with a dark witch. It must crush you to know that you loved that which you despise so much."

In the bat of an eyelash, Sirius had his wand aimed straight at Snape's face, as he snarled enraged, "Shut your trap, Snape, I won't say it again! Lily was light – she couldn't have been that psychopath's daughter! Everyone who knew her –"

"When you first met her?" interjected Orion, ignoring his father's increasingly loud and blustering voice, as he pierced Snape with his eyes. "What do you mean?" He deeply frowned, and demanded sharply, "That you've always known?"

"No," replied Snape impassively, shooting a jeering glance at Sirius who was being gently calmed down by Remus and persuaded to calmly take a seat again. His black eyes flickered back to Orion, and he continued dryly, "When I was a child, I lived in the same muggle area at the outskirts of London in which Lily and her parents also resided in. I met her before we received our Hogwarts letters. I used to observe her playing with her sister-"

"You stalked her, you mean, like the pathetic slimy little man that you are, Snivellus!" hissed out Sirius, a harsh, mocking chuckle issuing from his lips. "Even then you drooled after her-"

"Stop it, father," snapped Orion angrily, leveling him with a hard gaze while feeling very tempted to cast a silencing charm on him. "This is important, so if you can only spit out insults, keep quiet. You two can rip each other's throats when I'm not present." He pinned Snape with his gaze, and waved his hand. "Continue."

The dark wizard's lips curled with annoyance, but in the next second his black brows furrowed slightly, and he said shortly, "The first time I spoke to her, I felt that she was like myself. I felt that slight recognition that we, all dark wizards, feel in the company of each other. Later, when she was sorted into Gryffindor, I was surprised by it, and I soon started believing that I had been mistaken in my first impression of her. Nonetheless, she was powerful beyond anyone's expectations. I thought it strange that a muggleborn could be so magically gifted."

He pierced Orion with his eyes, and added tartly, "However, no matter what kind of magic she innately had in her core, by the end of her Hogwarts years, she had become a light witch who had never dabbled in the Dark Arts. If she had, it would have left an imprint in her, and I never felt it. Yet, these past days, when I read the newspapers, I realized that I had been right about her, all those years ago."

"You're telling me this," said Orion slowly, searchingly gazing at the man's pale face, "because if you felt it in her when she was a child, then Dumbledore did as well." Snape sharply nodded, and he asked crisply, "You think he did something to her?"

"Not necessarily," replied Snape, a pinched expression fleetingly crossing his features. "I don't believe that Lily's dark magic was developed enough to pose a threat in Dumbledore's opinion, and he was able to mold her before it happened. I think it's very likely that he purposely and covertly guided her during her school years."

He briefly glanced at Remus and Sirius, and sneered acidly, "Pushing her towards certain individuals, perhaps even setting up the right circumstances to make her befriend light-oriented children, and thus molding her views to that of the Light's side and instilling in her a dislike for dark magic." His gaze pinned Orion again, and he added quietly, "Even if at some point she felt tempted to try dark spells, as would have been natural given her innate magic, she wouldn't have felt the need to do so, as normally happens to us, and she would have lacked the power as well. The teenage years of a magical child are crucial for the development of his or her type of magic. If your type of magic goes unacknowledged, undeveloped and untrained, then it's almost lost to you, weak and locked in your magical core. After so many years of complete disuse, it's almost impossible to retrieve it." His jaw slight tightened, and he murmured quietly, "That's precisely what Dumbledore must have counted on."

Orion glanced at Remus and Sirius, to discern how they were taking Snape's words. Remus had a sad and resigned expression on his face, but he was nevertheless offering some type of assuaging support to Sirius, by gently grasping the man's arm in comfort. And Sirius, on the other hand, was resolutely glancing away from everyone, his lips drawn into a thin line, his expression one of disbelief and troubled thoughts, but he didn't say a word.

Finally, Orion gazed back at Snape, and nodded at him in understanding. "That's more or less what the Spirits said to me when I asked them about it."

"Spirits?" interjected Connolly, in his low, harsh voice, piercing him with narrowed amber eyes. "What spirits are ye talking 'bout?"

"Before you were bitten," said Orion coolly, arching an eyebrow pointedly, "you spent your first years of magical education at Durmstrang. You should know who I'm talking about."

Connolly's amber eyes marginally widened, and he said with sharp gruffness and scathing disbelief, "That the Founders'-"

"That Morgana's and Mordred's spirits linger on this plane, yes," interrupted Orion shortly. "And that I count with their support."

"That's not possible," said the werewolf quietly, staring at him as if he had never seen him before, suddenly looking pale and very shaken. "That would mean that ye are-"

Orion waved a hand, and said impatiently, "Remus will tell you about it, as I said before."

"I will," interjected Remus instantly, when both Connolly and Greyback seemed to want to pitch into the conversation. His gaze landed on Orion, and he said with a firm and uncharacteristic cold voice, "Perhaps it would be best if you finished explaining to us what happened. We do not have much time left before the Alphas arrive."

"Right," said Orion crisply, slightly annoyed at the werewolf's tone of voice, however much he knew he partly deserved it. He glanced at his father, Snape and Remus, and said coolly, "You don't need to know the details and I'm not going to waste my time giving lengthy explanations. The crux of the matter is that my mum was Grindelwald's daughter, and that he was Antioch Peverell's descendant. Thus, in me, the lines of the three brothers are joined. That's what the Spirits wanted to accomplish."

He shot a hard, piercing glance at his father. "And it's the irrefutable truth, no matter how much you would like to deny it. Furthermore, I did kill Gellert and his unique dark magic merged into my core." He widely spread out his arms, pointedly glancing down at himself. "That's what you're seeing now. And-"

"And your next step is to kill Voldemort," cut in Sirius sharply, pinning him with hard, gray eyes.

"What I decide to do with Voldemort is my business," gritted out Orion. "I don't want to hear anything about what my next step should be. I don't care what the prophecy says, what the Spirits want, or what your opinion is in that regard." He angrily narrowed his eyes at him, and added sharply, "And I'm not the only one who has to give explanations. What were you thinking about when you jumped in to protect Bill Weasley?!" He vaguely gestured in Greyback's direction. "If I hadn't been there to stop him, he would have mauled you, Dad! Of all the irresponsible, stupid things you have done-"

"You were there?" said Sirius puzzled, frowning at him without looking remotely contrite about his actions.

"Yes," replied Orion crisply, scowling at him. "I used a time-turner and I was under a parsel-invisibility spell-"

"That is how you saved Draco," interjected Snape musingly, intently spearing him with his black eyes. A deep frown furrowed his brows, and his gaze roved over Orion's face, as if trying to see into his very soul. "It was your time-travelling self who broke into my mind… using Legilimency without the need of eye contact, wand or spell… but there are very few Legilimens in the world who are able of such a feat. It's not something you learn in textbooks. I certainly never taught you that, and the only person to whom I ever disclosed that ability to was…"

The dark wizard trailed off, all color suddenly draining from his gaunt face, his thin body becoming rigidly stiff, as he stared at Orion as if abruptly seeing a ghost from his past.

At the man's words and reaction, Orion visibly blanched, feeling a frantic surge of alarm, and he gasped out, "Don't say anything!"

Remus frowned at them, and Sirius confusedly glanced from one to the other, as he demanded impatiently, "What's going on?"

Orion shot Snape an imploring glance, and the dark wizard jerkily nodded his head once, still gazing at him with shock, bewilderment and a pinch of horror, a sickly greenish tint coloring his pale face. Seeing that the wizard would keep quiet about the matter, Orion relaxed a bit, but he couldn't help thinking that Snape was too damned smart for his own good. He didn't even want to consider the consequences of Snape having discovered what he hadn't breathed a word about to anyone, except the recently deceased Vagnarov.

He cleared his throat, pulling a mask of utter impassivity over his features, and glanced back at his father as he said calmly, "Yeah, well, as I was saying, I used a time-turner and such. But the point is that, despite what the newspapers are saying, I didn't kill the old coot-"

"You didn't?" interrupted Sirius, all previous confusion having seemingly flown out of his mind, as he gazed at Orion with a slightly relieved expression.

It wasn't missed by Orion, and he narrowed his eyes at his father, and said crisply, "No, I didn't. And I need to know what has been going on during Order meetings."

"We all thought Dumbledore had died!" said Sirius vehemently, wildly gesturing with his hands, as if representing the havoc he had been thrown into during the last couple of days. "It was utter chaos! Moody's blasted eye never roved away from me for a single second, the Aurors interrogated me for hours, making me swallow flasks of Veritaserum, and Moody and Minnie badgered me with questions as well." He paused, and a pensive expression fleetingly crossed his face. "Now that I think of it, Minnie did look more composed a couple of days ago. Her eyes weren't all teary, at least-"

"Minnie?" gritted out Orion, narrowing his eyes at the wizard.

"Minnie, Minerva," said Sirius, blinking at him in obvious confusion regarding the reason for his anger. Then he chuckled, winking at him as he added with a cheerfully mischievous tone of voice, "Oh, I know, I know, she hates it when I call her that, and that's why I do it. Ever since I was a kid-"

"It's McGonagall, not Minnie!" snapped Orion sharply, briskly carding his fingers through his hair. "First, you put yourself in danger to protect a Weasley, then you call McGonagall 'Minnie', as if she was one of your closest friends." He leveled his father with a hard gaze, and spat angrily, "They are our enemies, Dad!"

"They are good people!" barked out Sirius, crossing his arms over his chest as he gazed at him with firm determination and self-assured, righteous stubbornness. "I don't regret having protected Billy. He's a good lad, and I like the Weasleys. The twins are a blast, Molly is a dear and Arthur is a good chap."

Feeling as if he was at the end of his rope with angered exasperation, Orion shot Remus a glance, silently asking for support. But the werewolf didn't seem to have any intention of getting pulled into the argument. Indeed, Remus looked as if Sirius' attitude was something he had been expecting all along.

"And Billy is about to get married," continued Sirius firmly, shooting at Orion a hard gaze of his own, "so I wasn't going to allow anything to happen to him if I was there to prevent it." A fond expression swept over his face, as he continued nonchalantly, "I like the whole Weasley bunch, and the new additions as well." He chuckled merrily under his breath. "Fleur is a witty beauty and Arian is an interesting and charming fellow, and I decided not to hold against them that they're French, they cannot help it-"

"Arian?" choked out Orion, feeling as if he had been knocked over by a bludger. In the next second, he had jumped to his feet, slamming his hands on the table as he leaned over to be nose-to-nose with his father, and he demanded loudly, "When did you met him? Why? How do you know him?!"

Sirius flinched backwards, looking utterly bewildered and alarmed by Orion's reaction, and he mumbled out, "He's Fleur's cousin or something of the sort. I met him four days ago when Billy brought him to an Order meeting, to induct him to the group. Everyone welcomed him with open arms, and Minnie and he seemed to know each other from before. She looked glad to have him with us. And like Fleur, he's staying with the Weasleys until the wedding celebration." He shot him a frown. "How do you know him? Did Fleur introduce you to him when –"

"He was accepted into the Order as just another common member?" demanded Orion sharply, as he plopped down back on his seat, intently spearing his father with a demanding and frazzled gaze.

The moment Sirius nodded in reply, he forced himself to gather back his composure while his mind sped with a thousand thoughts per second. It was clear that his suspicions were correct: McGonagall knew that Dumbledore was alive, and apparently she knew that Arian was the old coot's grandnephew. Moreover, it wasn't likely that the rest of the Order knew either of those things, or Arian would have been welcomed into the group in a different manner, and Sirius would have known if Arian had been treated as someone important.

It was also clear that, since Dumbledore was playing dead, he had sent Arian to become part of the Order, to supervise matters. And most probably, Arian had agreed to it for several reasons of his own: to be in the midst of things when the open war in England broke, and also to measure up the Order members, possibly to ascertain if he could use the old coot's followers for his benefit. The most important matter was if Arian was planning on revealing to them who he was. Would he tell them that he was the 'Vindico Lumen'? And if so, when?

Orion's jaw clenched and he jerkily carded his fingers through his hair. The latter posed a big problem to him. If Arian claimed to be the Vindico Lumen and gathered all light wizards around him, before he became the Vindico Atrum and did the same with dark wizards, then he would be in a great disadvantage.

Finally, he gritted his teeth, and pierced Sirius with his eyes as he said acidly, "The Order thinks he's just another member, eh? I bet you anything that your Minnie knows the truth. Arian is Dumbledore's bloody grandnephew, Dad! There's nothing common about him, and he claims to be the Vindico Lumen!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Sirius, looking slightly flummoxed.

"It means," hissed out Orion with annoyance, "that he's my worst enemy, that at present he's much more powerful than I am, that he's out for my blood, that he wants to destroy the Dark side and that his magical prowess supersedes even that of the old coot himself, that's what it means!" He angrily gestured at him. "And there you were, happily mingling with the 'charming fellow'!" He pierced him with narrowed eyes, and demanded crisply, "Do you understand now that those people aren't your friends but our enemies?"

"You're not making any sense, pup," groused out Sirius, scowling at him. "Arian knows that I'm your father and he was nothing but friendly with me when we met. When everyone in the Order started turning against me after you had supposedly killed Dumbledore, he was the only one, besides Billy, who didn't judge me for it. He was sympathetic, and he was even interested in our lives. He asked me about you and he didn't seem to think you were evil, like the rest of light wizards now believe-"

"Think why!" spat Orion with angered exasperation. "He asked you about me because he was gathering information to use against me, father! How can you be so bloody naïve? How can you have fallen for his charming and good light wizard act?!" He held up a hand, an idea suddenly entering his mind, and he snapped briskly, "You know what, never mind about that. Tell me about this wedding thing. I assume it's Bill's and Fleur's wedding celebration, so when is it going to be?"

Sirius stared at him, looking a bit startled at the sudden change in subjects, and he muttered, "August the first, at the Burrow – the Weasley's home."

Orion's green eyes widened and sparkled, his lips curved into a large, bright smile and he almost squirmed in his seat with jittery elation, as he breathed out, "Perfect. Wonderful! And it will be filled with light wizards and most of the Order will be there for sure! Oh my, I couldn't have planned it better myself. That's when we will strike!"

He flashed a smile at everyone, happily chuckling under his breath, and he loudly slammed a fist on the table. "Bam! All at the same time, Order of the Phoenix at the wedding, English Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's, Azkaban! All in one swift strike, without giving them time to know what hit them! And – bam! At the same time, wizarding Dublin and Edinburgh, as Calypso said. It's perfect, it's flawless if we can orchestrate it, and I have a whole month to plan it. And by Circe that the Zravens will give me a bunch of their fighters to lead, and the Alphas must as well!"

To his annoyance, his plan didn't seem to be well received by everyone. Remus looked alarmed, his dislike evident on his grave, stern and reproving expression. Sirius looked as if he was combusting in enraged anger, his mouth flapping open and close, without being able to express how much he opposed the idea. And, inexplicably, there was a hurt expression spreading on his reddening face. The only exceptions were the other three. Connolly and Greyback were sporting almost identical expressions of anticipation, with a feral smirk twisting their lips, as if the whole idea of crashing a wedding and attacking numerous governmental dependencies was very tasty to their blood-thirsty palates. And Snape was staring at him with an arched eyebrow, a pensive glint of sly calculation sparkling in his black eyes.

"The Weasleys' home will be heavily warded, brat," said Snape calmly, finally breaking the tense silence that had spread at the table. "Moody, McGonagall and Shacklebot will surely cast many wards in preparation for the wedding, and some Aurors might also be asked to help with the task." His quirked eyebrow inched even higher. "How are you planning on breaking such powerful wards-"

"He can find out the details about the wards," interrupted Orion swiftly, gesturing at his father, before a frown marred his forehead. "Oh, but it could be that they won't trust him with that information, so…" A realization struck him, and he shot the wizard a large grin, as he said excitedly, "I can use Hermione for that! She would be perfect. Ron and she are sweet on each other, so it wouldn't be strange for her to want to stay at the Weasleys for the rest of the holidays. And during her stay there, I can make her be interested in the warding process! No one would think it strange of her to want to know about it, and McGonagall likes her and I don't think that even Moody would suspect her. Yes, she's perfect for the task - I can even make her disable some of the wards from the inside, just before the attack!"

Snape's lips quirked upwards, and he slightly nodded at him, conceding that it was an acceptable idea.

"Absolutely not!" spat Sirius, swiftly rising to his feet, looking imposing and ominous as he towered over the rest who remained seated, while he gazed down at Orion with a thunderous and enraged expression on his face. "You go too far, pup. What you're planning is unprovoked brutality. I will not seat here and listen any longer. I will not let you do this. There will be children and young witches and wizards at the wedding celebration, there will be innocents! It's in the Weasleys' home, with their kids, friends and close ones. I will not let you butcher them!"

"I didn't say anything about butchering!" snapped Orion angrily, jumping to his feet as well, narrowing his eyes at him.

"You are going to tell Voldemort about this plan of yours, aren't you?" demanded Sirius harshly, meeting his narrowed gaze with one of his own. "And Death Eaters will be involved, so there will be butchering! Not to mention the vampires and werewolves-"

"Of course, I'm going to plan it with him," interjected Orion sharply, balling his hands into fist as his jaw clenched. "And yes, I think it would be best if the Death Eaters attacked the wedding celebration, along with my Elite. But I was planning on sending the vampires and werewolves to take control of the Ministries-"

"Voldemort's minions will kill everyone at the wedding celebration!" yelled Sirius madly. "They will not show restraint, pup! They will be vicious-"

"And they will surely meet their match with the Order members, Aurors and the rest of the guests," spat Orion impatiently. "I doubt that it will be an easy victory for us. If there are casualties, they will be on both sides-"

"Innocents will be hurt or killed!" screamed Sirius, looking quite deranged in his fury. "I will not be a part of this, and I will not let you do it! I'd rather alert the Order about this, before allowing it to happen."

Orion's whole body froze, and his eyes narrowed to slits, as he said coldly, "Really? How will you tell them, if I may ask, father?" A chilly smile curved his lips, and he whispered acidly, "Try it, and you will see that not one word will come out of your mouth. The compulsion web on your mind will not let it happen. So you see, however much you would like to betray me, you can't."

An indecipherable expression spread over Sirius' face, a mix of pained hurt, disbelief, impotence and rage. And without another word, the wizard spun around and briskly strode away from them, making his way into Lycaon and barking at everyone who got in his way.

His father's reaction left Orion feeling a bitter taste in his mouth, while a chilling coldness seemed to be piercing his chest. He had never expected such betrayal, not from his father, not from the man he had worked so hard to bring back to life.

He glanced at the others, who had remained silent not wanting to get mixed up in the father-son brawl, and his gaze finally landed on Remus, and he bit out with frustration, "I don't understand him!"

"You should have expected it," said Remus quietly, piercing him with a hard glint in his eyes. "From the start, I told you that sending your father to spy on the Order was a bad idea. You placed him in the midst of people who had once been his friends, of light wizards and witches he had once liked and felt welcomed by. You tempted him with what he desired the most. Is it so hard to believe that he prefers their company to that of dark wizards? That he still cherishes them and thus wants them to be safe?"

"He's a dark wizard himself!" spat Orion with exasperation. "He had time to get used to the bloody idea, Remus. How long will it take him to accept who he is? I cannot fight with him every time we discuss attacking light wizards!"

"I will talk to him," said Remus calmly, before he shot him a glance full of reproach. "But you didn't deal with him well. Accusing him of betraying you, without wanting to understand his position and feelings-"

"I understood perfectly well," bit out Orion crisply, "but I can't accept it." His hands balled into tight fists, and he gritted his teeth as he leveled him with a hard gaze. "And it's you who doesn't understand my position. He should have never threatened to tell the Order about my plans. Don't you see? If either you or my dad ever helped the Light side in any way, I would kill you!"

A menacing growl issued from Greyback, but neither of them paid him any attention. Remus stiffened at his words, gazing at him with piercing amber eyes, as he said softly, "Would you, cub? After everything you did to resurrect him? After all the support we have given you-"

"I would," interrupted Orion, staring at him coldly. "Precisely because you and he are the ones closest to me, the ones I care about the most, any betrayal from your part would be much worse and have greater repercussions than that of any other. I cannot afford to have anyone close to me switching sides! I cannot afford to pardon betrayal, or I would be seen as being 'soft'. And that would not only undermine my position, but also lead to more problems and treacheries. In this, I cannot show mercy, or I would be ripped apart!"

"I'm sorry for you, cub, that you have come to feel this way," said Remus quietly, intently gazing at him as he steepled his fingers on top the table. "Nevertheless, despite the words that Sirius said in anger, he would never betray you. Do you remember when I came upon you, all those years ago at Hogwarts' grounds, where your father found Peter? Do you remember what he said to him? That he would have rather died than betray James and Lily? That sentiment was heart-felt and true, and he applies it to you as well. In that regard, you have nothing to fear."

Orion stiffly nodded, and briskly sat down on his seat again, before he pierced the werewolf with his eyes, and said coolly, "And what do you think about my plan? Will you support it?"

"You will only count with my support and that of my pack," replied Remus calmly, "if you vouch to make sure that no children will be hurt, and that includes the Weasleys'."

"I cannot promise that," said Orion through gritted teeth. "I'm not omnipotent, Remus! How can I control everything and everyone during the attack?"

"It's something you will have to solve," interjected Remus impassively, shooting him a pointed, hard glance, "in some way."

"I see," said Orion scathingly, a humorless, harsh chuckle springing from his lips. "And so it begins. This is but the initial stage of the first war, and you and father are already flinging obstacles in my path."

"You always knew it would happen," said Remus, his tone one of assuaging diplomacy. "We are the voice of moderation and reason, in my opinion, and I hope you will always listen to us."

"Fine," grumbled Orion reluctantly. "I'll somehow make sure that no kids are hurt." He shot him a pointed glance. "And you'll talk to Sirius and make him understand and accept my plan."

A small smile tugged Remus' lips. "You have deal, cub."

"As much as this chit-chat warms my heart," sneered Snape, standing up and stalking to Orion's side, his long fingers instantly wrapping around one of Orion's arms to pull him up, "you and I, brat, need to have a word – in private."

In the bat of an eyelash, Orion was being forcefully dragged into a nearby secluded corner of the forest. At last, Snape spun him around, so that they stood facing each other, and after a flick of the wizard's wand, a silencing spell was cast around them.

The wizard's fingers tightly grasped Orion's chin, pulling it up, and his black eyes intently bore into Orion's green ones, as he muttered under his breath, "Regulus?"

Orion jerked backwards, and bit out with a scowl, "What are you talking about?"

"Don't lie to me, boy," hissed out Snape, his grip on Orion's chin tightening, as he forced their gazes to meet again. His eyes narrowed to slits, as he searchingly stared into Orion's. "I only ever used my ability on Regulus, once, and there is no other way you could have known how to use it yourself. So tell me the truth. Are you-"

"Him?" said Orion through clenched teeth. He squared his shoulders, narrowed his eyes at the wizard, and finally admitted nonchalantly, "Yes, I was him."

Snape dropped his hand as if it had been burned, and he took a step back, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he muttered, "How can it be? How can you-"

"When I confronted the Dementor," interrupted Orion, speaking quickly while he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at some point over the wizard's shoulder, "he did something to me. Before I made him go through the Necromancer's Gate, Cadmus… unlocked something inside my soul, I guess. And during a week after that, before I asked Vagnarov to block it, I had flashes of my past reincarnations. Regulus' life, being my previous one, was the one I experienced the most."

"I see," said Snape quietly, his tone of voice making Orion flicker his gaze back to him. The wizard looked ill, as he continued, "And you remember about… everything?"

Orion scoffed, and said wryly, "About the 'punishment' that Voldemort made his Death Eaters inflict on me – on him? Yeah, I remember." The dark wizard, if possible, looked green, and Orion added with a sigh, "And I remember how you helped me, Severus, no matter what else you were forced to do. I – he killed himself with your aid, but it was willingly. You have nothing to reproach yourself about. You helped me."

Snape seemed to snap out from whatever was affecting him, and a cold mask of utter impassivity spread over his face, and he demanded sharply, "Do you still have flashes of his life?"

"No, as I said, Vagnarov blocked it," replied Orion shortly, frowning at him as he tried to discern where the wizard wanted to get to with the discussion. "I mean, I still remember everything I experienced during that week, and sometimes those memories are triggered by things, but I don't have new flashes."

Snape's jaw tightened, and he said tartly, "Then you shouldn't meet Lucius today."

"Why on earth not?" spluttered out Orion, staring at him in bafflement. "Everything is set already, isn't it? Dobby contacted you and you must have told Lucius to meet me at Durmstrang, after the Dark Allies meeting-"

"Must I spell it out for you?" snarled Snape impatiently, darkly glowering at him. "Lucius was imprisoned before you confronted the Dementor. You're going to see him today, for the very first time after remembering Regulus' life. Do you think memories will not be jostled in your mind, boy? Surely you saw what kind of relationship Lucius and Regulus had-"

"We - they were lovers, yeah," said Orion stiffly. He sneered at him, and added crisply, "I think I can manage it."

Snape regarded him with piercing, narrowed eyes, and finally said sharply, "Have it your way. But never let him know that you were him."

"Why not?" demanded Orion with curiosity, searchingly staring up at him.

"Because he doesn't need that complication in his life, and neither do you," spat Snape acerbically, looking as if he would rather be anywhere in the world except there having that conversation with him. "Let bygones be bygones."

Orion felt a coil of uneasiness twist in his stomach, and he jerkily nodded his head in immediate understanding. He didn't want to rehash past memories either. As far as he was concerned, he had enough on his plate, and his life was already more complicated than he could easily cope with.

He shot the wizard a quizzical glance when he saw the man staring at him with a weird expression on his face.

"Regulus," murmured Snape under his breath, fixedly staring at him with glazed eyes that seemed to see past him, while looking as if some cord was being strung deep inside him.

Feeling increasingly disturbed and restless, Orion loudly cleared his throat and tentatively placed a hand on the wizard's shoulder. Snape momentarily stiffened, before his lips tugged upwards with a wry twist, shooting him a glance as he mutely shook his head.

Orion carefully eyed him, before he said quickly, "I must warn you that Voldemort will probably attempt to kill you at some point. He doesn't know that I'm the master of the Elder Wand, and given what happened at the Astronomy Tower, I think he'll try to dispose of you and Draco after he obtains the Wand. And since I'll do nothing to prevent him from getting the Wand, because it suits my purposes, then you should stay on your guard around him."

Snape appeared momentarily taken aback, before he looked as if he was being forced to swallow a sour lemon. He waved a hand dismissively, silently accepting the warning. And without another word between them, they made their way back to the clearing.

When they reached the table, Remus was nowhere to be seen, the only ones still there were Connolly and Greyback, and Orion checked his wristwatch with impatience. Thankfully, the Alphas would arrive in any minute.

Before he could even pose a question, Connolly reached his side, and said gruffly, "M'Alpha went to deal with yer father. It was a bad idea to include yer father in yer plans, Black. It's clear that he doesn't have the backbone to do what is necessary."

Orion glared at him, even if he knew that the werewolf was partly right. But he stopped glowering at the man when he detected a certain unease and nervousness in werewolf's posture.

With amusement, he shot him a wide smirk, and said silkily, "What is it, wolfie? Are you scared of me now?"

Anger swept across Connolly's ruggedly handsome face, and he snarled, "In yer dreams, cubbie." He pierced him with narrowed amber eyes, and growled in a low, harsh voice, "When ye killed the bitch, ye told me that ye wanted me to become part of a group of yer followers. Ye said they were-"

"I was referring to the Aux Atrum," interrupted Orion, quizzically staring at him. "They are selected by the Spirits, and marked by them, to become the followers of who they call the Vindico Atrum. And that's-"

"Ye," cut in Connolly, closely regarding him with narrowed eyes. "I was able to put two and two together, Black. I'm not daft." His eyes narrowed to slits, and he said brusquely, "If I'm to believe that Morgana and Mordred are still alive in spirit form, and that they support ye, then I know exactly what this Vindico Atrum is." He scoffed, and added snidely, "Before my parents disowned me when I was bitten, they raised me as a dark pureblood. I know the legends, Black. Ye're talking about the Prophet." He speared him with an intense gaze, and demanded harshly, "Is that who ye are?"

Orion regarded him in silence, before he said coolly, "Apparently."

"Apparently?" growled Connolly impatiently, leveling him with a hard gaze. "Ye mean ye don't know for sure?"

"I mean that at present I'm the only candidate who can become the VA," said Orion calmly. "There's a test I have to pass first." He shot him a glance, and arched an eyebrow. "Remus will tell you all about the matter. What do you really want to ask me, Connolly?"

"Patrick," said the werewolf gruffly, his expression turning grave and determined. "Call me Patrick."

Orion's eyebrow arched even higher, before he said smoothly, "Very well, Patrick. So what do you want?"

Connolly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, before he speared Orion with a piercing gaze, and said in a low voice, "Ye offered to make me one of yer followers, and I accept." His amber eyes narrowed to slits, and he added brusquely, "Once I see with my own eyes that Morgana and Mordred truly exist in spirit form, and that they hail ye as the Prophet."

"Alright," said Orion, shooting him a large smile. "Then be prepared to be marked soon. But you will not be an Aux Atrum. I want you as one of my own."

Connolly sharply nodded at him, before he spun around and made way towards the table, looking as if he had much on his mind.

And Orion only had a brief moment to feel triumphantly content with this turn of events before popping sounds broke the silence that had pervaded in the clearing of the forest.

* * *

With supreme calmness, he turned around to gaze at the new arrivals, just as he caught sight of Remus dragging a stern and displeased looking Sirius across the gates of Lycaon.

When the two of them reached his side, Sirius didn't even glance at him, but Orion put up with it with equanimity and focused his attention back to people who had just portkeyed a few feet away from him.

It was Remus and Greyback who instantly approached the group, and Orion closely inspected them. They were four men and one woman, and one man in particular caught his attention the most. There was an imposing and commanding air about him, and the others stood behind him, by his flanks, as if recognizing the man's superiority over them, even though Orion knew that all of them had to be Alphas.

The female Alpha was almost dressed in drabs, and even though she looked sturdy and physically strong, it was evident that she didn't have an easy life. Her face looked slightly haggard, with several old scars marring a face that would have otherwise been pretty. And like with the rest, it was hard to tell her age, about in her mid forties, he would say. The other three men were dressed in plain muggle clothes, some as frayed and worn out as the woman's, and some others with attires of slightly better quality. Yet it was evident that none of them had money to spare in things like clothing. The only exception was perhaps the man leading the group, the one who had caught his attention.

He also looked in his forties, dressed in a cheap yet impeccable muggle suit and towering above the rest. Orion had thought that he would never meet anyone as tall and strongly-built as Greyback, but the man was a full head taller, very broad shouldered, looking like a giant compared to the others. His face was rather weather-beaten, as would be expected on a sailor of old times, with lines crinkling his forehead and around the corners of his eyes. He had a rather prominent straight nose, thick eyebrows, cropped black hair, a short beard along his jaw line, and dark brown eyes that seemed almost black.

"Wulfric!" said Greyback joyously, reaching the man's side and strongly slapping a hand on the Alpha's shoulder, his unusual friendly tone of voice making Orion quirk an eyebrow.

"Fenrir, it has veen many long years, my vriend," said the man, his rough voice laced with a thick Russian accent, as a small, sharp smile curved his thin lips. "I'm glad to see that you're looking vell." His dark brown eyes flickered to Remus, and a corner of his lips seemed to hitch up. "Remus, as I understand, you must be the reason behind my vriend's improved vellbeing."

Remus looked momentarily uncomfortable, before he thinly smiled at the man, and said cordially, "We are glad to have you here."

It didn't escape Orion's notice that Remus treated the man with respect, but not open friendship as Greyback had. It was clear that Remus regarded the man as a fellow Alpha worthy of the respect that the man's presence demanded, but their relationship didn't go any further. It didn't escape his notice, either, the 'we' Remus had used. And he began thinking that whatever Greyback was doing to engratiate himself with Remus seemed to be slowly working.

Wulfric's dark brown gaze landed on Orion, and the man took several steps forward to tower over him, his gaze marginally narrowing as it rove over Orion's magical aura.

"And you must be ourr much talked-about ally," said the werewolf, his lips curling into a chilling smile that unnerved Orion.

"Yes," interceded Remus calmly, briefly shooting Orion a glance that he couldn't quite decipher, only that it seemed a warning to tread carefully with the man. "Wulfric, this is Orion Black. Orion, this is Wulfric Vasiliev, the Alpha of the largest pack in Russia."

"Nice to meet you at last," said Orion smoothly, extending out a hand.

Wulfric's sharp eyes glanced down at the hand proffered, and for a second Orion inwardly stiffened, thinking his gesture would be ignored as a way to humiliate him or as a way for the werewolf to state his dominance and superiority over him.

But in the next second, Wulfric tightly grasped his hand and shook it, shooting him that unnerving smile again, that had nothing of friendliness or warmth in it.

"I'm also the Head Alpha of continental Eurrope," said the werewolf, shooting a stern glance at Remus for omitting the incontrovertible fact. His sharp gaze pierced Orion once more, and he continued in a tone of voice that brooked no opposition, "and as such, you vill be dealing vith me." His lips quirked upwards, and he gestured at his companions. "I speak in behalf of my comrade Alphas."

Orion shot them a glance, and the others silently nodded, except the woman, who seemed slightly irked but didn't beep a word.

"Very well," said Orion nonchalantly, as he gestured at the table. "Shall we take a seat, then?"

Wulfric didn't waste any time in taking a seat at the head of the table, leaving the rest of his entourage to seat along his sides. And for his part, Orion sat at the other head of the table, shooting a narrowed glance at Greyback when the werewolf attempted to do the same. Small details such as hierarchal seating was important, especially given Wulfric's attitude, and he wouldn't be outmatched in the subtle power-struggle games.

Greyback didn't look too happy that he hadn't been quick enough, but with a low growl, the werewolf took a seat by Remus' side, along one of the sides of the table. The only ones who didn't seemed fazed by the undercurrents were Remus, who evidently didn't care about stating his importance, Sirius, who didn't seem to have grasped the subtleties of what had transpired, and Snape, who looked contemptuously disgusted by the whole affair.

"In yourr behalf, Remus has already negotiated vith us the terms of our alliance vith you," started Wulfric, piercing Orion with his sharp, dark eyes. "Thereforr, I find myself vondering why you set up this meeting." He arched a thick eyebrow challengingly, and added in his rough voice, "Could it be that you're not ready to follow through vith all yourr promises-"

Orion waved a hand, and instantly cut in, "Not at all. It's because I know that Voldemort-" He noticed how the other Alphas flinched or winced at the utterance of the Dark Lord's name, but Wulfric didn't bat an eyelash "-offered the packs a potion to be able to transform during non-full-moon nights." He pierced Wulfric with narrowed eyes. "And I wanted to make sure that you're not thinking of switching allies."

"Ah," said Wulfric, his lips curving into the chilling smile. "Da, the Dark Lorrd contacted me, in fact." He leveled Orion with a hard gaze, and added sharply, "I haff no wish of exchanging you for him, but we vant that potion. Many in our packs arr muggle werewolves, and since there vill be fighting involved, it's best in both our interests that they can also participate in their transformed selves." His smile stretched. "If not, you vill find yourrself with a very small force of werewolf fighterrs."

"I see," said Orion curtly, not liking the covert threat. "I can attempt to garner the potion recipe from Voldemort, but I cannot make any promises."

Wulfric's smile widened icily, a mocking tilt curving his lips. "Surely yourr husvand-"

"Spouse," interrupted Orion crisply, leveling him with a cold gaze. "I was his spouse, and he was mine. He wasn't my husband since I wasn't his 'wife', but his equal, obviously in gender and in all other aspects. And we're not spouses anymore. Our marital bond was severed."

He instantly caught sight of his father's reaction, it was impossible not to. The reproving and stern scowl that Sirius had been sporting since the beginning of the meeting vanished, and his face lightened up as if he had been suddenly struck by a ray of sunshine. Sirius was staring at him with a happy bright sparkle in his eyes, as if he had just received the best gift of his life.

Wulfric, on the other hand, didn't seem to take such news very well. A hard expression spread over his rough features, and he said sharply, "If you're not in the Dark Lorrd's good graces anymore, then vhat good arr you to us? If you're not his spouse, you haff no influence on him. You no longer haff the standing to vouch that the dark wizarrds vill fulfill the promises you've made to werewolf kind. You haff no standing at all now-"

"Is that the only reason why you allied yourself to me?" interjected Orion harshly, narrowing his eyes at him. "Because I was Voldemort's spouse? You're a fool then. I don't need to be anyone's spouse in order to have my own standing. I'm a leader of the Dark, equal to Voldemort-"

"That is vhat you claim," snarled Wulfric, an enraged glint spreading in his dark eyes. "And based on vhat? On the ludicrrous speculations that arr being printed in the newspapers – that you arr Grindelwald's grandson? Arr those fallacies the base for your claim of veing powerful enough to be considered the leader of the Darrk?"

"It is the truth, Wulfric," interjected Remus calmly. "He is Grindelwald's-"

"I don't care if you believe it or not," interrupted Orion sharply, still spearing Wulfric with a hard gaze, not wanting Remus to butt in and fight his battles. "The point is that I'm the most powerful dark wizard alive, and that's precisely why I'm the leader of the Dark along with Voldemort. And that's precisely why you should value your allegiance to me. All the promises I made, I will be able to fulfill." He calmed down, and flashed him a grin, as he added smoothly, "If you still doubt it, I can demonstrate how powerful I am in a duel against you."

"That von't be necessary," bit out Wulfric stiffly, narrowing his eyes at him, and Orion couldn't suppress the smirk that stretched on his lips.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Orion warmly, his tone of voice irking the Alpha, as intended. "Now, as we were discussing, I'll do my best to get the recipe from Voldemort, and if not, I can ask someone to concoct some other potion that could be useful to you."

He shot Snape a glance, and the wizard, though looking sour at the request, nodded his head once. Satisfied, he gazed at the Russian Alpha again, and continued pointedly, "And according to the terms of our alliance, you and the other Alphas will provide me with fighters for the war. I'm planning to have the first battle on August the first. So I would like to know how many of your fighters will be available to me."

"In a month from now?" interjected the female Alpha, looking startled, her voice carrying a thick French accent. "C'est ne pas possible! It's too zoon…"

She trailed off the moment Wulfric shot her a dark glance, before his sharp gaze settled on Orion once more, and he said in a low, growling voice, "Amadine is right, it is too soon." Suddenly, he shot him a large, icy smile, and added casually, "We vould need several things in exchange, not contemplated in ourr previous agreement, if you vant to count vith our help at the date you proposed."

"Such as?" asked Orion impassively, already having expected something of the sort.

"Funds," said Wulfric shortly, as he gestured at the werewolf town at his back. "All of us admire vhat Remus has built, and we vould like to provide something similar to our packs." His lips thinned, and he continued curtly, "We haff no financial means at our disposal. We cannot haff jobs in the magical world, and almost none of us arr qualified to keep high-salary jobs in the muggle world. And unlike Remus, we don't haff wealthy and generous vriends."

Orion quizzically glanced at his father, and Sirius flashed him with a large grin, apparently loving the idea of spending some of the Black fortune to help werewolves – surely because his mother would be rolling in her grave and her portrait would screech like a banshee the moment the news reached her ears.

"Alright," said Orion, shooting Sirius a grin of his own, before he smiled at Wulfric as well. "The more Lycaons that are built, the better in my opinion. I can offer you the same amount of galleons that I gave Remus."

"Spassiva, we appreciate it," said Wulfric curtly, in his rough voice. "We arr not asking for charity. We vill repay you as soon as we start producing goods that can be sold in the muggle worrld."

Orion nodded gravely, showing how seriously he truly took it in order to not wound the Alpha's pride.

"There's one morr thing," said Wulfric, his lips curving into that unnerving, cold smile of his. "Become a werewolf. I, myself, vill bite you."

Orion almost choked on his tongue, and he saw Remus restraining Sirius, who looked about to jump to his feet to curse the Alpha.

"Oui," interjected the female Alpha firmly, gazing at Orion resolutely. "We discuzzed it amongst uz before this meeting. It iz necessary. It would reassure uz that you truly mean to help uz, and not merely uze us and then cast uz away-"

"Amadine!" growled Wulfric deep in his throat, making the woman blanch, though in the next second she was already shooting him a rebellious, dark glare.

Wulfric's sharp, dark eyes zeroed in on Orion again, and he said sharply, "It has reached ourr ears that you're bonded vith a vampirre-"

"Partially bonded," corrected Orion instantly, glaring at him since he didn't like the turn the conversation was having. "It's not complete. And I don't see how any of my personal affairs are any business of yours-"

"They arr," interrupted Wulfric with a snarl, narrowing his eyes at him. "I make it my business to know everrything about my allies, especially one vith such close ties to our naturral enemies. You're 'partially' bonded to the Zraven heir, to the one who vill lead one of the most important vampirre clans, and I assure you that we arr not happy about it. Werewolves and vampirres don't mix, yet you have forged an alliance vith both. You vill haff to decide which is more imporrtant to you." His eyes narrowed to slits, and he added sharply, "Vampirres arr very devious creatures, they vill do anything to turn you into one of them, and we cannot haff that. Become a werewolf, and solve the problem."

"No," said Orion shortly, leveling him with a hard gaze. "I promise that I will never become a vampire. I don't have any need to become one, just as I don't have any need to become a werewolf. And as you said, I'm forging an allegiance with both of you, if I turned into one or the other, I would lose my alliance with the other kind. I cannot afford that. What you ask for is not something I will ever consider."

"This is a deal breaker," said Wulfric warningly, piercing him with hard, narrowed eyes.

Orion clenched his jaw, and said crisply, "Then so be it."

Wulfric's eyes narrowed to slits, and he snarled enraged, as he slammed a fist into the table, "Is your alliance vith the leeches more important than yourr allegiance to us?!"

"Both are equally important to me!" snapped Orion with angered impatience. "Ask for any other thing to reassure you-"

"I vouch for him, Wulfric," interjected Remus firmly, leveling the other Alpha with a stern gaze. "Orion would never betray us. He truly wants to give us equal rights to that of wizards, and he has offered us more than he is offering to the Zraven clan."

"And yet the Zravens vill haff him as the mate of their son!" growled Wulfric, a thunderous expression spreading over his rough features. "How can we place the fate of our kind in the hands of a vampirre-lover!"

"I vouch for him," repeated Remus curtly.

Wulfric pierced him with hard eyes, and demanded harshly, "Personally and by yourr standing as an Alpha?"

"Yes," replied Remus calmly, "as I always have."

To Orion's amazement, that seemed to settle the matter, and he wondered precisely what consequences Remus had agreed to face. Not that he would ever break his promises to the werewolves, as they seemed to fear, but it left him feeling a bit worried about what Wulfric could supposedly do to Remus.

"You seem to garner a steadfast loyalty," said Wulfric gruffly, narrowing his eyes at him. "Don't take it lightly. And needless to say, that our packs vill not fight side-to-side vith the leeches. If you don't vant us tearing each other apart instead of battling light wizarrds, then keep it in mind."

"I know," said Orion coolly. "I wasn't planning on sending you to the same places that have to be attacked." He pierced the Alpha with his eyes, and asked pointedly, "So now that we have a new deal, can you tell me how many werewolves you can give me for August the first?"

"Vithout counting the muggle members of ourr packs," replied Wulfric curtly, "about thirty to forty werewolves per pack, since those vould be the ones who vould be prepared to fight in such short notice. They vould be wizarrds and witches, and thus useful in battle even vithout the potion."

Orion frowned pensively. "So, two hundred werewolves in average?"

"Da, vith us Alphas included," said Wulfric, spearing him with a piercing gaze, "since we vould be commanding our fighterrs."

"And I would be leading you," interjected Orion pointedly.

Wulfric narrowed his eyes at him, but then stiffly nodded, and Orion shot him a dazzling smile, as he said contently, "Perfect. I'm having a meeting with Voldemort and some of our international Allies after this, and if my plan is accepted, then we will have much to plan for. During this month, it would be best if the five of you, and of course Remus, Greyback and Connolly, attended battle-planning sessions with Voldemort and his Inner Circle, along with my own Elite. I'm sure Voldemort will agree that you must be included. Would you accept?"

"Da," said Wulfric, curtly nodding at him.

"Good," said Orion, shooting him a wide, satisfied smirk. "And now I think you should know exactly what I'm planning for August the first."

He noticed how his father stiffened at his words, but thankfully, Sirius didn't voice his opinions, and the rest of the meeting went on without any altercations, as they focused on the details of the plan that had formulated in his mind. And, despite Wulfric's attempt to the contrary, Orion subtly made the other Alphas participate in the discussions as well, to get to know more about them, since Remus had never told him much.

The other three male Alphas were the leaders of the largest packs in Germany, Spain, and Italy. And Orion was particularly glad for the latter two, since in those countries light wizards predominated the most. And the woman, Amadine, was the Alpha of the packs in France. She was the one he liked the most, once he got to know her a little better. She seemed to be a fighter to the core, and was the only one who didn't kowtow to Wulfric as much as the others.

All of them were dark wizards, or witch, in her case, even though their formal magical education was pretty scarce, since they had been bitten very young. And he soon discovered that Wulfric, like Greyback, was a naturally born werewolf, also the son of a previous Alpha. It became clear to him that being a naturally born werewolf gave the werewolf in question a sort of higher status to those who had been simply bitten, and that, besides the man's personality, could explain why Wulfric commanded such superiority over the other Alphas.

In the end, the rest of the meeting went as smoothly as it could, and despite his tiredness, Orion was brimming with excitement by end of it. He only briefly wondered how he would manage to do everything in just a month. He had initially thought that he would spend all his time at Zraven Citadel, but it was clear to him now that he would be incessantly coming and going to take part in all the battle-planning meetings. And besides that, he would also be occupied with his vampire-training, studying for his PRIMEs, and also with some training sessions with his Elite, so that they could be prepared.

He would not have a spare moment. Indeed, now he regretted very much that the time-turner had broken. And for a second, he considered that he would need to take a potion to be able to do everything. But remembering Voldemort's snide comment about his 'potions addiction', he swiftly pushed the idea away – he rather be dead on his feet every day than put up with the man's sneering jibes.

Nevertheless, despite that he knew that it would be a very intense and busy month for him, it couldn't be helped. The date of the attack couldn't be changed; the occasion of the wedding celebration was perfect and couldn't be passed.

The moment the Alphas portkeyed away, looking as satisfied with how the meeting had gone as he felt, Orion relaxed on his seat and stretched out his legs while he soothingly rubbed his forehead. A few minutes before the meeting had ended, he had felt Voldemort pounding into his skull from his end of their link. He had ignored it, of course, but he had known what was going on when Snape had briskly stood up, grasping his left arm and merely shooting him a pointed glance before dissapparating without bothering to say a word to anyone. In that way, he had known that Voldemort was having a meeting with his Inner Circle, as the wizard usually did before any gathering with the Dark Allies.

He knew he should be apparating straight away into the meeting as well, but at present he was nonetheless taking a few minutes to rest a bit. Connolly was still frequently glancing at him, with a pensive and calculating glint in his amber eyes, as if both measuring him up and thinking about their conversation and everything he had discovered. It didn't escape Orion's notice that the Beta also gazed at him with a mesh of veiled awe, guarded fear and wariness. It was evident that the whole Morgana, Mordred and VA matter had deeply shaken him.

Gratefully, the werewolf didn't approach him to press on about the matter. Connolly seemed content in simply shooting him glances from his seat. On the other hand, the ones who weren't keeping still were Remus and Greyback. The older werewolf seemed to almost have Remus boxed in his chair, since Greyback had him pinned in between his arms, looking fed up and impatient while he growled something to Remus under his breath. To his chagrin, he wasn't the only one who had noticed. Sirius was already jumping to his feet, wand in hand, as he rushed to the pair.

Orion took that as his cue, and he swiftly stood up and stated loudly, "I'm off. I'll see you later!"

Sirius halted in mid-step in his rescue-mission dash, shooting him a startled glance, while Remus took the opportunity to wrench free from Greyback, standing up and checking his old wristwatch. "It's not time yet for the Dark Allies meeting, cub."

"I know," said Orion coolly, "but I rather put up with Voldemort and his minions than see father attempting to beat Greyback to a pulp." He shot Sirius a pointed glance. "And you know you don't stand a chance, Dad. So let it go, it's their bloody business, not yours. And Remus can protect himself, Greyback's pretty scars are evidence enough."

To his amusement, Greyback snarled angrily at him, Remus' face slightly flushed – he didn't quite know if it was from embarrassment or a pinch of remorse- and Sirius spluttered indignantly, due to wounded pride, no doubt. Connolly merely smirked, and he shot his soon-to-be-follower a wink, before he plucked out the Black Heir ring from his pocket and gave it a tap with his wand's tip.

* * *

The moment the sensation of being squeezed through a clenching rubber tube ended, Orion's feet landed on marble floors, and his eyebrows shot upwards.

He pointed a finger at the unconscious witch dangling in mid-air above the grand, ornate table, and he shot Voldemort a quizzical glance. "Who's that?"

The scene that had greeted him was a bizarre one.


	31. War plans & a Malfoy in a tight spot

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 31  
**

No one answered his question or breathed a word, and Orion ended up reining in his curiosity about the dangling witch to glance around the room and its occupants.

They were in the largest drawing room of Malfoy Manor, the furniture had been pushed carelessly up against the walls, and dim illumination came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror. He even caught sight, through the large windows, of the fountain playing in the middle of the manor's vast gardens, with several pure-white peacocks strutting majestically along the top of the hedges.

As his gaze started to grow accustomed to the dim light, Orion finally gazed at the silent people seated along the ornate table. Voldemort was seated at the head of the table as usual, directly in front of the fireplace, so it was difficult, at first, for Orion to make out more than his silhouette. On the other hand, he saw how most of the Death Eaters were fixedly staring at him, their eyes roving over his body, some gasping quietly in awe, others paling in fear or apprehension as they caught sight of his thick dark magical aura, which was animatedly pulsing all around him. He also noticed how their gazes flickered to his forehead, and he realized that none of them had ever seen before his so famed lightning-bolt shaped scar.

Tension seemed to spread through them, while Orion noticed that Jugson, Dolohov, Nott and Mulciber were also present amongst the other members of Voldemort's Inner Circle. Those wizards had been captured a year ago during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, so it was evident that Voldemort had also freed them when the wizard had broken out Lucius from Azkaban several weeks ago – which he only knew about thanks to Draco, since Voldemort hadn't bothered to tell him about it.

From everyone present, three people above all others caught his attention: the ones who weren't fixedly staring at him.

At the furthest corner of the vast room, sat a witch, almost as if she was one more piece of furniture given her isolation from the rest. And Orion recognized her immediately, even though he had never laid eyes on her before, due to her uncanny resemblance to her son. Calypso's apprehension had been founded. The witch was Jezabel Zabini, and she was a breath-taking beauty. Such a beauty, that to his surprise, he even felt a faint stirring of attraction. He could distinguish her body's shape under her rich, exotic clothing. She had a curvy, seductive figure, with a tiny waist, firm and ample bosom, and wide hips. Long, bejeweled earrings tingled and chimed softly, peeking through her long, black cascading hair, and her dark skin gleamed with a golden hue under the firelight.

It was her eyes which transfixed him the most. He knew that Blaise had inherited his dark blue eyes from her, but now, they were milky white. She didn't seem to be aware of her surroundings, and her beautiful features were infused with an expression of deep concentration.

It was then when he detected that the whole room felt as if it was wrapped in an invisible bubble. There was magic tingling all around him, and it was coming from her. It was true then: she was doing something to block the meeting from other Seers – from Arian, most importantly.

He ripped his gaze away from her, and glanced at the other two people, besides Snape and Romulus Rosier, who weren't gawking at him. Narcissa Malfoy was wearing the mask of cold beauty and superiority she usually sported in public, but there was an imperceptible tension on her shoulders, while she kept her eyes staring straight ahead, her deadpanned gaze riveted on a wall. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, didn't look so steely impenetrable. His skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. Even his usually glossy, long platinum hair looked wan and lifeless.

Orion felt a twinge of… something, and he instantly reinforced his Occlumency shields around the memories of his past lives. Snape had been right when warning him about memories being 'jostled'. Nevertheless, his gaze briefly met Lucius' when the wizard shot him a quick glance, and he detected the flash of cold fury that glinted in the man's icy silvery eyes. In that moment, he saw how Narcissa's slim fingers closed briefly on Lucius' wrist beneath the table, and the wizard instantly looked away from him.

When Orion finally glanced at Voldemort once more, he knew that the dark wizard had detected Lucius' anger towards him, since the Dark Lord seemed to be cruelly amused and satisfied by it. However, now that he saw how Voldemort's gaze was sweeping over him, Orion detected several other things in the dark wizard's crimson eyes. There was veiled desire and hunger in them, and Orion was very tempted to preen under the man's gaze. In the end, he settled on simply shooting him a smug smirk, and that seemed to pull the Dark Lord from admiring and lustful thoughts.

Voldemort answered his smirk with a cold sneer, but before he gave the wizard a chance to say anything, Orion swiftly reached his side, with his back turned to the others to block their sight, while he plucked out two things from his over-robes' pocket.

"_I think you would like to have these back," _hissed Orion, holding up a hand with the Slytherin wedding ring and the magicless, perfect imitation of the Gaunt ring, offering them to him.

Swiftly, Voldemort stood up to face him, and Orion caught sight of the flick of surprise that momentarily flashed in the wizard's crimson eyes.

"_You thought I wouldn't give them back to you, my greatest ally_?" hissed Orion, making himself warmly smile at him.

Voldemort's eyes slightly narrowed with suspicion, before he pocketed the rings, piercing him with an intense gaze, as he hissed quietly, _"Indeed, always remember that, Orion. I am your greatest ally."_

At the wizard's uncharacteristic mellow tone of voice, it was Orion's turn to feel a modicum of suspicion. Nevertheless, he amiably smiled at Voldemort once more, even though he knew that the wizard would be closely inspecting the rings the moment he was alone. Moreover, it was as he had suspected, by giving the rings back –particularly his wedding ring which contained one of Voldemort's pieces of soul- he had passed some sort of test. For now, that is, because he was certain that Voldemort would never come to fully trust him.

He was also aware that Voldemort had expected him to make a scene of some sort, since this was the first time they saw each other after the wizard had severed their marital bond. But he wasn't going to give Voldemort the satisfaction, and he had already decided how he was going to act during this meeting.

During his previous meeting with the Alphas, he had had no need to behave other than how he usually did. He hadn't restrained his temper or anything along those lines, because he had wanted them to know the real him. On this occasion, however, things were different.

He knew very well that from hence forth he would need to act like a 'Dark Lord' with this lot and many others. The moment he had killed Grindelwald and announced to the world –through the inscription on the statue's base- that he was the former Dark Lord's grandson, his situation and position before others had irreversibly changed. It was imperative that the Death Eaters and Dark Allies acknowledged it. That was, indeed, the first step.

Thus, he gazed at the table, and with one quick flick of his wand, he made it double in width. Most of the Death Eaters instantly pushed their seats away, though Amycus Carrow squeaked with angered indignation when he was almost trapped under the table. The squat, portly dark wizard even shot him a fierce glower, before he paled, clamped his mouth shut, and looked away from him, looking a bit shaky.

Unfazed, Orion nonchalantly flicked his wand again, and one of the unoccupied chairs zoomed towards him, quickly sliding to halt besides Voldemort's own chair at the head of the table, which was now wide enough to accommodate both.

Everyone seemed to understand his implicit statement, and no one, but Bellatrix, openly reacted to it negatively. She, on the other hand, was piercing him with dark grey eyes that seethed with fury and intense envy. However, to Orion's surprise, he also detected a glimmer of grudging respect, as her gaze trailed over his magical aura once more. He doubted if it would significantly change how they got along, but he should have known that, despite the numerous things the witch held against him, she would nonetheless reluctantly respect him given the visible evidence of his power.

Voldemort's lips curled upwards, and he settled a hand on Orion's shoulder, steering him towards his seat, as he said placidly, "My followers, behold Grindelwald's grandson, as always, my ally."

Orion shot him a surprised and quizzical glance, wondering why the wizard had helped him with that statement. Perhaps Voldemort was somewhat satisfied with him since he had given the man the rings, or perhaps it was to smooth things over with his minions and to cut short unnecessary questions, or because it suited his own purposes. Whatever the man's reasons were, it seemed to do the trick.

Even though he saw puzzled, curious or slyly calculating expressions on some of the Death Eaters' faces, not one of them demanded to be given explanations. None of them would be stupid enough to question the Dark Lord. And the Death Eaters would hear his explanations to the Dark Allies, after all.

The moment both of them had taken their seats at the head of the table, Voldemort glanced at him with an arched eyebrow. "I trust that your meeting with the werewolves went well?"

"Yes, it did," said Orion coolly, knowing that Snape wouldn't have said a word about it to the wizard.

Obviously, he hadn't told Voldemort that Snape had attended the meeting, given that the Dark Lord had never discovered how close they were or that Snape's loyalty was towards him and not Voldemort. He and Snape always acted coldly towards each other in Voldemort's presence, as if they barely tolerated each other and as if it had been forced upon them when Dumbledore had made Snape become his guardian.

Before Orion expanded on the matter, his eyes were again drawn upwards to the unconscious witch hanging upside down over the table, revolving slowly as if suspended by an invisible rope, and reflected in the mirror and in the bare, polished surface of the table below. None of the people seated underneath this singular sight were looking at it, except Bellatrix who shot the dangling witch a smug smirk, looking proud about something. And Orion slightly frowned, since there was something familiar about the unconscious witch.

Suddenly, something large and scaly coiled around one of his ankles, and Orion almost jumped in startlement before he controlled his reaction. He heard a hiss coming from underneath the table, and in the next second, a huge snake slithered up along his leg.

Orion kept absolutely still as Nagini's head poked out, while she kept coiling herself up his torso. And he met her yellow eyes with guarded surprise. He hadn't seen her in ages, and there was something gleeful in the way she repeatedly flicked her forked tongue out towards him.

She wrapped her long tail around his waist, and he saw a flicker of irritation and annoyance flash in Voldemort's expression. But in the end, Orion decided to ignore the snake and allow her to do as she liked. He wanted to know about the dangling witch before telling Voldemort just how well his meeting with the Alphas had gone.

"Who is she?" he asked again, shooting a sidelong glance at Voldemort. "And why is she here?"

Voldemort's lips quirked upwards, and he said silkily, "She is here so that we can start cutting away the canker that infects us until only those of true blood remain."

The wizard pointed his wand at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The witch came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.

"Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort, piercing Snape with intense crimson eyes.

Snape raised his eyes to the upside down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!"

"Ah, yes," said Snape impassively, as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

"And you, Orion?" asked Voldemort, stretching out his free hand to Orion's waist, to stroke Nagini's snout.

Orion saw the witch jerk up her face to stare at him with round eyes, but he simply glanced at her with a frown. She did look familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. Meanwhile, he heard Nagini hiss with pleasure at her master's caress, and she swiftly untangled herself from his waist to slither around Voldemort's shoulders.

"But you would not have taken her classes," said Voldemort calmly, petting his snake. "For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Orion didn't allow any reaction to show on his face, but now he did remember having seen her in Hogwarts' hallways. He fleetingly wondered how the witch had managed to get in such a tight spot, and what Voldemort was up to. The wizard must have already Legilimized her by now, so why was he keeping her alive?

Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape again, and Orion saw her wide, pleading eyes flickering from the Potions Master to him.

"Severus … please … please … Mr. Black, child, please…"

"Silence," said Voldemort lazily, with another twitch of his wand, and Burbage fell silent as if gagged. "Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance. She would have us all mate with muggles. And she was recently recruited by the Order…"

Orion inwardly groaned. Burbage had been accepted into the Order? He knew that they were frenziedly recruiting, but the witch was magically mediocre at best.

"…it is thanks to dear Bella here, that we have such a guest among us," was saying Voldemort, his tone of voice sounding dangerously soft to Orion's ears, which perked up his attention. "During the raid to Birmingham, while some of you pathetically fled from the Order, Bella captured this witch, as a gift to me."

Everyone except Bellatrix stiffened. There was no mistaking the anger and contempt in Voldemort's voice. And for the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape, and then Orion. Tears were pouring from her eyes into her hair, and Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as she turned slowly away from him again.

Orion, on the other hand, wasn't paying attention to her, not even remotely. The part about the Death Eaters fleeing from the Order had captured his thoughts. He hadn't known they had been in such a tight spot, and that could only mean that-

"My Lord," said Bellatrix breathlessly, halfway down the table, her voice constricted with emotion, "it is always an honor to do anything for you. There can be no higher pleasure."

Orion shot her a scathing glance. She sat beside her sister, as unlike her in looks, with her dark hair and heavily lidded eyes, as she was in bearing and demeanor; where Narcissa sat rigid and impassive, Bellatrix leaned toward Voldemort, as if mere words could not demonstrate her longing for closeness.

"No higher pleasure," repeated Voldemort silkily, his head tilted a little to one side as he considered Bellatrix. "That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you."

The innuendo didn't escape Orion's notice, nor the way that Bellatrix was lustfully gazing at Voldemort, to then victoriously smirk at him. Orion didn't react to the smirk the witch shot him, but he couldn't help balling his hands into fists under the table.

Finally, he chose to have a doubt resolved, and he shot a covert glance at Romulus Rosier, before he addressed the Death Eaters in general, "You had to flee? How many Order members did you have to face?"

"It wasn't only a matter of numbers, Lord Black," said Rabastan Lestrange, piercing him with his gaze, with a glint of desire in his eyes directed at him, which didn't go unnoticed by Orion. "Somehow, they knew exactly which parts of wizarding Birmingham we were going to attack. And there was one light wizard amongst them who-"

"Who was very powerful," interjected Romulus Rosier calmly, answering Orion's surreptitious glance with those mere words.

Orion nodded at Calypso's father, and ignored the way in which Rabastan kept glancing at him. True, he had enjoyed shagging the wizard, mostly because it was the first time he had ever topped. But it was something he had no desire to repeat with the dark wizard. It was Voldemort who he wanted to have writhing and hissing with pleasure underneath him. Or Draco or Lezander, for that matter. But, at present, there were more important issues to deal with.

He shot Rabastan a neutral glance, and demanded calmly, "Did this light wizard have bronze colored hair, and was he good-looking?"

"Yes," replied Rabastan shortly, frowning at him.

"It was Arian," said Orion, leveling Voldemort with a hard gaze. "I told you that he must have Seen you planning that raid." He deeply frowned, and added musingly, "And he could have easily bested all of your Death Eaters. I wonder why he didn't. Why he allowed them to escape-"

"One sole wizard couldn't have defeated all of us who went on the raid," sneered Bellatrix contemptuously, visibly bristling with fury at his words.

Ignoring his Aunt, Orion stared at Voldemort and said with disbelief, "You haven't told them about Arian yet?"

Voldemort merely gazed back at him with supreme impassivity, and Orion was hard taxed to suppress his temper.

He trailed his gaze over all the Death Eaters, and said gravely, "That wizard's name is Arian Hyperion Valenor, and he's Dumbledore's grandnephew and more powerful than the old coot. So if you see him again, don't attempt to duel him. Escape from him, and leave him to either me or the Dark Lord. None of you have a chance against him."

A frisson of apprehension seemed to run along the Death Eaters, and he saw that everyone was taking him seriously. There was surprise in their faces, regarding Arian and his relation to Dumbledore, but there wasn't doubt concerning what he had told them.

"And you stand a chance against him?" jeered Bellatrix snidely. "If he is indeed Dumbledore's grandnephew-"

"You doubt your Lord's power?" said Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at her. "Or mine, still? Only the Dark Lord and I should deal with Arian, and that's it. You've been warned."

He shot Voldemort a pointed, hard glance, and the wizard narrowed his eyes at him, before he addressed his Death Eaters with a disinterested tone of voice, "This Arian apparently is Dumbledore's grandnephew. I concur with Orion that he should be left to either him or myself."

That seemed to shut up Bellatrix, and reassure the rest, but Orion was still very unsatisfied with how carelessly Voldemort regarded Arian. Surely the wizard had to understand just what a threat Arian represented to them. And even though he knew that Voldemort would never show himself to be worried about anything or anyone, he had thought that the man had already told his Death Eaters something about the light wizard. And he wasn't happy to discover that Voldemort hadn't.

"Now, before we proceed with other matters, Severus…" Voldemort paused, his gaze landing on Orion, and his lips curled upwards in a faint smirk. "No. Better yet. Orion, kill her. Prove your commitment to our cause."

Orion frowned at him, before he realized that the wizard was referring to Burbage. He shot Voldemort an irritated glance, and said coldly, "I don't think anyone here has any reason to doubt my commitment."

Voldemort didn't reply anything to that, and simply pierced him with a demanding and impatient gaze. And Orion understood immediately that this was just another test. Evidently, it had been initially intended for Snape, since the wizard was still in a rocky situation with Voldemort. Snape, like Narcissa and Bellatrix, had known about the Unbreakable Vow that he had taken to help Draco with his task. And Voldemort still hadn't forgiven anyone for it, except Bellatrix, perhaps, who had undoubtedly scored some points by giving him Burbage.

Finally, Orion merely shrugged his shoulders indifferently. He couldn't care less about Burbage, and as far as he was concerned, it was best that the witch died swiftly instead of being tortured any further.

He indolently raised his wand at the magically-gagged witch, who was staring at him with teary, pleading eyes, and said lazily, "Avada Kedavra!"

The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room, and the witch fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters flinched back in their chairs at the loudness of her fall, but other than that, no one batted an eyelash.

"_Dinner, Nagini,"_ hissed Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered from his shoulders onto the polished wood.

Abruptly, in mid way along the table, Nagini jerked her head around to stare at Orion with her yellow eyes, her tongue flicking out, with her head swaying as if something was amusing and pleasing her greatly and she couldn't kept quiet about it any longer.

"_You sssmell as-"_

"_Nagini!"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, glancing at her with infuriated, narrowed eyes. _"You have your food, now leave."_

A vibrating hiss that sounded like laughter came from the snake, while she tightly coiled her tail around the dead witch's waist, and slowly dragged the body down the table.

Her gleeful hissing was still resounding in Orion's ears when she finally slithered her way out of the room with her 'dinner'.

With a snap of his head, Orion pierced Voldemort with intense, demanding, narrowed eyes, feeling a flare of fury rising in him. The Dark Lord, for his part, didn't even glance his way. And Orion felt rage bubbling inside of him even further. He wasn't an idiot! He knew perfectly well what Nagini could have sensed and been happy about. His mind boggled with the gravity of it, and he had to suppress the need of somehow confirming his worst fears by pressing a palm on his taut stomach.

Nevertheless, however ill and faint the possibility made him feel -or rather, the fact, after Nagini's attitude had confirmed it to him- what he felt the most was insane fury and the blind desire to repeatedly smash Voldemort's skull against the table, to have him under a Cruciatus Curse for many long hours, to viciously tear limb after limb from his body.

He would be turning seventeen and Voldemort had always known that he didn't want to have a child so young, and in the middle of the bloody war, to boot! As a matter of fact, he had never wanted to carry a child at all. He had been sure that he could have convinced Voldemort, along the way, to do it through a surrogate witch. He was a man, and even though the male pregnancy potion was a viable possibility, he had never wanted to use it. He didn't care what he had initially promised to Voldemort, things had changed, and he was no longer the wizard's spouse, to top it!

Orion was visibly seething with rage, but he knew that now wasn't the time to say anything, so he quickly gathered back his cool composure and pulled a blank expression over his face. The Death Eaters didn't seem to know what was going on, they were merely staring at them with guarded curiosity, obviously sensing the tension in the air. Nevertheless, under the table, Orion wrapped his fingers around Voldemort's wrist, and he tightly squeezed until he knew that the wizard's bones had to be painfully aching, and he sunk his fingernails into the man's flesh, hard.

Voldemort didn't even wince, or attempt to pull his wrist away. His expression was as closed off as Orion's, as he demanded calmly, "What did you get from the Alphas-"

A 'snap' echoed through the room, and Voldemort's clenching jaw was the only sign of pain from the wizard, as Orion finally managed to break the man's wrist. Now the Death Eaters did seem to know that something grave was happening between them, and their fidgety nervousness was palpable, their eyes flickering from Voldemort to Orion, as if expecting that Killing Curses would soon be flying through the air.

Voldemort shot Orion a furious glance promising retribution, before calmly flicking his wand. And Orion icily smiled at him, while letting go of the man's wrist just as he felt the healing spell tingling on it.

He had never been forced to act before others as nonchalantly as he had to act now, but with considerable effort, Orion did it.

He pushed from his mind all his frantic and furious thoughts, and said coolly, "Yes, the Alphas. We finally agreed on several points. As a matter of fact, I would say that the terms of my alliance with them are all settled, at last. I will not go into it, but beside the whole issue of giving werewolves equal rights to that of wizards, they want that potion that you dangled before their noses. So you will have to give me the recipe-"

"I will think about it," interrupted Voldemort sharply, piercing him with narrowed crimson eyes. "What else?"

Orion's jaw clenched, before he said smoothly, "Nothing else from your part. I'm giving them some galleons to found towns like Lycaon. And in exchange for everything, they will provide fighters for the wars. In fact, the Alphas will be leading about two hundred werewolves for the first battle, and I will be commanding the Alphas."

He speared Voldemort with an intense gaze, and added shortly, "August the first. That's when it will happen. I have started planning the attacks with the Alphas, and now I only need to discuss it with you. I'm sure the Dark Allies will approve my plans, and we can convince them to help us on some matters."

"Why that date?" demanded Voldemort commandingly, his eyes narrowing to slits. "And what do your plans involve?"

"Bill Weasley is marrying Fleur Delacour and they're going to celebrate it that date, at the Weasleys' home," replied Orion coldly. "I think it's the perfect opportunity to attack the Light in several fronts. My Elite and some of your Death Eaters will attack the wedding, the Alphas and their fighters will strike Ireland's and Scotland's Ministries of Magic, and their hospitals and prisons, while I think that you, the rest of the Death Eaters and the vampires that the Zravens will give me, should strike the English Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's, and Azkaban. All at the same time."

Voldemort pierced him with a hard gaze. "Where will you be?"

"I will be with my Elite, attacking the wedding," replied Orion coolly. He pointedly gazed at him, and added in a low hiss, "_Arian will be there, for sure, since he's Fleur's cousin. I cannot defeat him on my own, but I'm planning to draw him out to the English Ministry of Magic, since I'll be apparating there to join you as soon as we finish at the wedding." _

"_And you want us to kill him there?" _hissed Voldemort, a pensive expression spreading over his handsome features.

Looking away from him, Orion slightly frowned, but then stiffly nodded at him. He gazed at the Death Eaters, seeing that all the hissing was making them uncomfortable. Well, except Bellatrix who was gazing at Voldemort with an enraptured expression on her face, and Rabastan, who was staring at him with a lustful one. He almost rolled his eyes at them.

"I don't see any need to attack Azkaban," said Voldemort quietly. "Control over all wizarding prisons will fall into our hands once we take the Ministries. As for St. Mungo's and the other hospitals-"

"Those we must take," interrupted Orion firmly, while he mulled over it. "I concede that the prisons are a minor point, we can choose which prisoners to free and add to our ranks once the battles are over. But we need to have healers in our grasp as soon as possible, so that they can't aid light wizards and so that they can be made to help our injured."

"As you wish," said Voldemort magnanimously, waving a hand dismissively. He gazed at Orion with a calculating glint in his eyes, and said thoughtfully, "This plan of yours fits rather well with my own. I approve it, and I will openly do so before the Dark Allies. As you said, they could help matters further, especially Alistair… Yet, many details will have to be tweaked out…"

A wave of excitement seemed to ripple amongst the Death Eaters, as if Voldemort's words had sealed the deal and they were granted permission to display their opinion about it. In their faces, Orion saw nothing but anticipation, pensive calculation, and further respect for him and his plan.

"Of course, many things still need to be planned," said Orion, quizzically staring at Voldemort. "And I told the Alphas that they would be welcomed here when we gather together to plot the attacks in depth."

"_We?"_ hissed Voldemort with a sneer, piercing him with narrowed, crimson eyes. _"Aren't you going to spend the next month with the halfbreeds?"_

"_I will be coming and going from Zraven Citadel, obviously,"_ hissed Orion crisply. _"I will be here to be involved in all planning sessions." _

A glint of satisfaction briefly glimmered in Voldemort's crimson eyes, and feeling a frisson of irritation, Orion demanded sharply, "You said something about plans of your own. What are they?"

"Yaxley," said Voldemort imperiously.

And with that, the named dark wizard seemed to have been granted permission to speak.

"I was reporting to my Lord before you… interrupted us - Lord Black," said Yaxley slowly, only slightly hesitating before saying 'Lord Black'.

But the wizard seemed to be reassured that he hadn't said anything wrong when Voldemort remained silent, and he seemed to think that the title was a fitting and deserved one, as his gaze appreciatively trailed over Orion's prominent magical aura once more.

"I placed an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse," continued Yaxley, and by the looks of others, it was something that had already been discussed.

Though, Dolohov clapped the wizard on the back, clearly proud of his friend.

"Thicknesse, that's the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, isn't he?" interjected Orion musingly, as he shot Voldemort a glance. "You were planning on-"

"On surrounding Scrimgeour with people controlled by us," cut in Voldemort, the firelight casting a fierce glint in his crimson eyes, "before I brought the pathetic wizard down. But now, with your plan, that attempt won't be necessary. However, my plans that are already underway, will serve our new purposes."

"Yes, my Lord," said Yaxley enthusiastically, looking more emboldened, as his gaze flickered from the Dark Lord to Orion. "Dawlish, the Auror, is also under our control. And Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. Now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, he can not only subjugate the others to control the Ministry from the inside, but he can also slightly modify the wards so that we can easily break in. Furthermore, he can provide us with a detailed layout of the Ministry."

"The Order suspects that you have infiltrated the Ministry," said Orion warningly to Voldemort, as he remembered that his father had told him precisely that when he had been discussing his plans with the Alphas.

"The Order's got one thing right, then, eh?" said Amycus Carrow, sitting a short distance from Yaxley, letting out a wheezy giggle that was echoed here and there with jeering sniggers along the table.

"Yaxley will simply have to be careful with Thicknesse," said Voldemort, ignoring the chuckles of his followers as he speared Yaxley with a dangerous and threatening gaze.

"Of course, my Lord. And with my work, Lord Black's proposed attack on the Ministry could go smoothly," said Yaxley adamantly, who seemed determined to receive express approval from Voldemort. "We now also have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport-"

"You do?" interrupted Orion with surprise, shooting Voldemort an admiring glance.

He noticed that it wasn't missed by Voldemort, given how the wizard superiorly smirked at him with self-satisfaction. Well, Orion felt that the man deserved to be smug. He had known before, but now it was patently clear to him that Voldemort and he could do great things together. With joined efforts, matters would certainly roll more smoothly. He would have never been able to infiltrate the Ministry as Voldemort had. He didn't have adults in key positions yet, given that his Elite were his schoolmates and that he wouldn't control the Aux Atrum before becoming the VA. At this stage, Voldemort undoubtedly had more useful 'human resources' than he did.

Pulling out of his musings, he fixedly gazed at Voldemort, and said with a hint of excitement, "Then you can have the Floo Network blocked for the day of our attacks. It would be great if no one could floo from the Weasley's, or to and from the Ministry-"

"It will be done," interrupted Voldemort, his smirk darkly widening.

"The Order has to be eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry," interjected Snape gravely. "They have always mistrusted everything to do with the place."

"It would still be useful if the Floo is blocked, Snape," said Orion crisply, while he inwardly took note of his guardian's warning.

Even if the Order and wedding guests didn't attempt to use the Floo, wards could be cast so that they couldn't apparate away during the attack. Inevitably, nothing could be easily done against brooms, but without Floo and apparition, they would already be cutting short many of their options to flee. And that was good enough. He would further think about the matter, and discuss it with Voldemort, at some other point.

A thought suddenly struck him, and Orion quickly asked, "What happened to the vanishing cabinets? Did the Aurors find the one in Hogwarts and the one in Burke's shop?"

"I shrunk and kept the cabinet the moment we went through it," said Bellatrix proudly, "as ordered by my Lord." She sneered at him, and added scathingly, "And we retrieved the one in Burke's store before the Aurors raided it. But we can hardly use them again, little nephew, the Order and Aurors know about them-"

"I wasn't thinking about using them for the attack on the English Ministry of Magic," interrupted Orion coldly, "but for one of the other two Ministries. The Irish and Scots might have heard about them, but one cabinet could be easily smuggled inside one of their Departments." He shot Voldemort a quizzical glance. "You were thinking about that when you mentioned Alistair Armitage, weren't you? I know the old geezer has political contacts everywhere he can sink his teeth into. He loves to strut around European Ministries, parading and flinging his name about. One of these days, he could make his usual visit to the Irish Ministry of Magic to see one of his mates, and plant the cabinet under an invisibility spell."

"It is an idea worthy of some consideration," granted Voldemort noncommittally.

"Well, when he pops in, I'll ask Armitage myself," said Orion firmly, not at all discouraged. "It's worth a shot." He glanced at Voldemort with some irritation, and asked coolly, "Do you have someone else in the English Ministry that could be useful and that you forgot to tell me about?"

His pointed reproach was ignored by Voldemort, and the wizard's gaze fixed on Lucius, while a vicious and cruel glint glimmered in his eyes. "I will have Umbridge, will I not, my slippery friend?"

The company around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, while Orion frowned as he recalled that Draco had long ago mentioned that witch to him, and none of it had been very favorable in his opinion.

Lucius Malfoy looked up to meet Voldemort's fierce gaze, looking more haggard than before, as he said quietly, "As you commanded, my Lord, I met Madame Umbridge, as I have previously done in the past, to gauge her willingness to help our cause. I pried from her a Witch's Oath to aid us from within the Ministry. She asks for a position of power in the Ministry, as a reward, once we have control over it."

Abruptly, Orion remembered exactly what he had been told about the witch, and he pierced Voldemort with narrowed eyes, as he said sharply, "Use her, if you like, but you cannot give her an important position in the Ministry. She hates werewolves and all other creatures. I will not allow her to have any influence in ministerial matters, or I would be breaking my promises to my allies."

"Rest assured that I will be using her without granting her the reward she covets," said Voldemort calmly. His lips quirked upwards, as he maintained his gaze on Orion. "Do not worry, I will not do anything that could endanger your alliances. We need the halfbreeds for the war."

Orion nodded, satisfied, for now, since he knew that he would always need to watch Voldemort's doings carefully.

The Dark Lord's gaze zeroed in on Lucius again, and he said silkily, "You have done well with Umbridge, my slippery friend. Then you must have some other reason to look so dissatisfied. I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you? But I have noticed that you and your wife seem less than happy of late… What is it about my presence in your home that displeases you, Lucius?"

Lucius' head jerked upwards, and he said vehemently, "Nothing – nothing, my Lord!"

"Such liesss Lucius…"

Voldemort's soft voice seemed to hiss on even after the cruelly twisted mouth had stopped moving. One or two of the Death Eaters barely repressed a shudder, and none of them dared to look up at Voldemort, as if their Lord's fierce gaze could burn them into dust.

"Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot?" said Voldemort, his expression one of mock pensiveness. "Is my rise to power not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?"

"Of course, my Lord," said Lucius Malfoy. His hand shook as he wiped sweat from his upper lip. "We did desire it – we do."

To Lucius's left, Narcissa made an odd, stiff nod, her eyes averted from Voldemort.

"Or perhaps the Malfoys are concerned about their wayward son?" said Voldemort in a dangerously quiet tone of voice, his eyes fixedly piercing Lucius. "You should pray like a filthy muggle for your son to be lying dead on some ditch, my friend. I haven't forgotten or forgiven, and I assure you that Draco will receive the rest of his punishment the moment he's found. Indeed, it would be better for his sake if he was dead already." His lips curved upwards, and he said in a low, cruel voice, "And it would be better for your own sake if you found him yourself, and brought him to me. You will attempt it, will you not, Luciusss?"

"Yes, of course, my Lord," said Lucius instantly, guardedly meeting Voldemort's penetrating gaze. "I'm looking everywhere for him, in the hope that you will show some mercy towards my family."

Given Voldemort's expression, the Dark Lord obviously didn't believe him, but Orion decided that it was enough. If Voldemort was indulging his sadistic streak by terrorizing the Malfoys, then it was clear that any further discussions about the attacks would be continued when the Dark Allies appeared. He quickly checked his wristwatch, confirming that he still had a couple of minutes before they popped in, and swiftly rose to his feet.

"I would like a word with you in private," he said nonchalantly, calmly gazing at Voldemort.

The wizard ripped his narrowed-eyed gaze from Lucius, and glanced up at him with utter impassivity. Without a word, Voldemort fluidly rose up and placidly strode towards the door, with Orion briskly following him.

The moment they made it into the next room, Orion swiftly flicked his wand, casting silencing and anti-spying charms around them, and he furiously yanked Voldemort by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

"What did you do to me, Tom?!" he yelled enraged, his wand's tip embedded in the wizard's neck. "When I asked you before, you said you had never done anything to me without my knowledge-"

"_I haven't," _hissed Voldemort sharply, painfully clutching the hand that was grasping his collar.

"Don't you dare break it," snarled Orion threateningly, without attempting to pull his hand free.

Voldemort pierced him with his eyes, and hissed angrily, _"Why not? You broke my wrist."_

"Sod off, you deserved it. Now tell me the truth!" spat Orion, finally deciding to yank his hand free, yet still poking his wand's tip into the wizard's neck.

_"What truth?"_ hissed Voldemort calmly, elegantly arching an eyebrow at him. _"I have never done anything to you."_

Orion seethed, and bit out mordantly, "Don't play dumb, Tom. I'm hardly in the mood for it-"

"_What are you in the mood for, then?"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, a smirk tugging his lips.

"Tell me once and for all!" bellowed Orion furiously. "Did you feed me a male pregnancy potion?!"

One of Voldemort's eyebrows shot upwards._ "What gave you that ridiculous idea, boy?" _

Feeling at the end of his rope with enraged impatience and frustration, Orion pierced him with narrowed eyes, and snapped, "Use one of those charms to detect pregnancy. They wouldn't work properly if I cast them myself, according to what I have read, so you do it. I want to see it with my own eyes."

Voldemort's jaw clenched, an indecipherable expression flashing across his face. In the next second, the wizard aimed his wand at him, muttering something under his breath.

The moment the beam of light struck his body, Orion saw himself glowing in a bright blue, and he deeply frowned. He had only had the time to briefly research into those kinds of charms, but he knew that they always made the person glow blue, or green, in case of no pregnancy.

"Another," he bit out shortly, narrowing his eyes at the wizard.

With a frown of his own, Voldemort complied, several times, and Orion always ended up glowing dark blue, sky blue, or forest green.

After the last charm, and before he had even the time to blink, Voldemort tightly clutched his face in a punishing grip, and snarled irately, with a murdering glint in his eyes, _"What have YOU done to yourself?"_

"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped Orion angrily, glowering at him. "I haven't done anything! It's you who…" He pierced him with narrowed eyes, and bit out acidly, "You were expecting me to be withchild, so you did feed me a bloody potion! By Circe that I'll make you regret it-"

"_I have never given you a male pregnancy potion!" _hissed Voldemort harshly, ripping his hand away from Orion's face, as he stared at him with seething fury in his eyes. _"Nevertheless, it did cross my mind that you could be pregnant. Highly powerful wizards sometimes have the natural ability to bear children-"_

"Please, you expect me to believe that rubbish?" sneered Orion scathingly. "I've never heard or read about it before-"

"_It wouldn't surprise me,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, spearing him with narrowed crimson eyes. _"You haven't even remotely read a minimal fraction of what I have in all my years. Your magical knowledge is nothing compared to mine."_

Orion briskly carded his fingers through his hair, and closely regarded the wizard. Voldemort looked as furious as he felt, and he didn't quite know what to think about the matter. He wasn't pregnant, apparently, but Voldemort had wanted him to be so, and the wizard was angry to discover that he wasn't. On the other hand, the wizard could simply be acting, he could have been fed the pregnancy potion and the charms didn't detect it. And somehow, his body didn't give any signs about the pregnancy. But Gellert had suspected that Voldemort could have managed it, hadn't he? However mind-boggling it was, it was still a possibility. He definitely couldn't believe anything that Voldemort told him about the matter, yet the man was now furious with him and they were in a stalemate.

Finally, he narrowed his eyes at him, and said acidly, "Well, I will eventually find out, won't I? You could hardly expect me to remain ignorant if you fed me the potion. At some point, when it's…" He faltered, and his jaw clenched. "When the baby is ready, I will surely feel it and a healer will have to extract him or her from me. So there's no way around it."

His eyes narrowed to slits, and he added fervently, "And I promise, Tom, that if it's true, I'll make you regret it dearly. You knew from the start that I didn't want it to happen so soon, and you did it against my will and knowledge! The only reason why I haven't cursed you yet is because I need you for the war, and most pressingly for this month. We need each other, actually. So for now, I'll let it go. But the moment I know-"

"_I didn't do anything to you,"_ snarled Voldemort with impatient anger. His crimson eyes narrowed to slits, and he forcefully pulled Orion's chin up. _"And need I remind you that you still owe me an heir? You haven't satisfied that condition of our agreement."_

"I'm not your spouse anymore," spat Orion mordantly.

"_That doesn't matter to me,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, tightening his grip on Orion's chin, as he pinned him with enraged eyes. _"I didn't break any of my promises, so you will give me an heir."_

Orion matched his gaze with a narrowed one of his own, and bit out crisply, "If I'm not withchild already, then I will give you one, but when I choose to do so, as we had agreed. I need an heir myself."

He leveled him with a hard gaze, and added harshly, "And if I am indeed pregnant at present, I will know that you did something to me, and I will not forgive you. Nevertheless, it would change nothing. Think again if you thought that you would sequester me in some place to keep me out of battles. And think twice if you believe I would forgive you and allow you to have any say in my heir's life."

_"I dare you to attempt it. He would be mine as well,"_ hissed Voldemort in a deadly tone of voice, his narrowed eyes seething with murdering rage.

Orion even noticed the wizard's tight grip around his wand, his knuckles turning white, and he glanced up at him, and sneered scathingly, "You want to hit me, to Crucio me, Tom. Why aren't you? What's holding you back? Despite your lies, you're now openly displaying that you think I'm pregnant-"

_"It's a possibility,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply. _"A natural one-"_

"Bollocks!" spat Orion seething, before he forced himself -with great effort- to calm down. He shot him a contemptuous glance, and stated with finality, "You don't want to tell me the truth, and in some months it will be evident, one way or the other. We'll deal with each other when it happens."

Voldemort seemed to accept the truce offered, though his lips still curled into an icy sneer of his own.

After a tense silence in which Orion was plunged into his own grim thoughts, he heard the wizard demanding calmly, _"Tell me more about this Arian."_

Startled at the abrupt change in subjects, Orion's gaze searched for Voldemort, seeing how the man was now placidly seated on a couch. The wizard was acting as if they had never had an argument, and Orion instantly decided that the man had the right idea. It wouldn't suit either of their purposes if they kept tearing each other's throats out. Neither of them could hardly do anything about the matter, if it was already done. And for his part, he rather forget about it until he had to face the consequences.

He swiftly sat across from him, and said shortly, "Send for your pensieve."

Voldemort merely arched an eyebrow, before he snapped his fingers and summoned a house-elf. Orion immediately recognized the old creature as the mute one that had looked after him during his week of detoxification in Voldemort's bedroom, and he shot him a warm smile which wasn't acknowledge by the house-elf.

"Bring the pensieve from my study," commanded Voldemort sharply, and in the next second the house-elf popped away.

Orion finally pulled his gaze away from the wizard, and closed his eyes to deeply concentrate, finding the memory and deciding exactly which parts to 'edit', as he muttered the required spell under his breath to make a copy of it and change it. It took him a while, but in the end he managed to blacken everything around him and Arian, so that Potter Manor or any other revealing thing about their location couldn't be seen. He also muted and made it foggy every time 'Vindico Atrum' or 'Vindico Lumen' was said, going as far as to also do it in the parts in which 'past lives' was mentioned.

All in all, the memory would be enough to make his point, since it would allow Voldemort to see Arian in all his glory and to know about the light wizard's plan to merge the muggle and wizarding worlds.

When he opened his eyes, Voldemort had already set a pensieve on the low tea table between them.

With his mind still focused on the modified piece of memory, Orion pointed his wand's tip to one side of his temples, and slowly started to withdraw a silvery thread. Directing it with his wand, he placed the liquid-like tendril inside the empty pensive, and once done, he silently gestured at the pensieve.

Voldemort didn't waste any time in plunging his head inside it, but Orion didn't follow him. He merely sighed, stretched out on his chair, and waited calmly for the wizard to come out of it.

The moment Voldemort's head resurfaced out of the pensieve, the wizard stared quizzically at him, his face expressionless.

"_He's a veela,"_ hissed Voldemort, impassively leaning back on his couch.

"Yes," said Orion, even though it hadn't been a question.

Voldemort pierced him with narrowed eyes. _"The memory was heavily modified-"_

"I didn't omit anything important," interrupted Orion shortly. "Only some stupid rubbish that Arian blabbed on about, to egg me on." He arched an eyebrow, and added pointedly, "Besides, you would never fully show me a memory of your own, so why should I?"

Anger visibly swept across Voldemort's face, but the wizard seemed to decide to leave the matter alone. It was evident to Orion that given the rocky situation between them, the wizard didn't want to kept fighting with him. Their 'truce' was a shaky one, at best.

"_He is a threat,"_ granted Voldemort quietly, elegantly crossing one leg over the other.

Orion snorted, and groused out, "You should have believed me before."

A flicker of vicious amusement glinted in Voldemort's crimson eyes, and he hissed calmly, _"If the wizard wants to appear before the muggles and make a spectacle of himself, let him."_ His lips curled upwards, and he sneered snidely, _"By all means, let him try to merge our world with the muggles', to form his little utopia. The failed attempt would benefit us-"_

"It would benefit you," interjected Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at him, "because you still want to annihilate muggles. Didn't you hear that Arian knows about your Mayan Stone?"

"_And that should worry me for some reason?"_ hissed Voldemort impassively, arching an eyebrow. _"I'm very close to fully developing the spell that will allow me to cast, through the Stone, any curse intended for those with impure blood."_ A vicious, exultant smirk stretched on his lips. _"To wipe out mudbloods and muggles, Orion. Soon, with the Stone, I will be able to cast the Killing Curse, a hundredfold wider in scope, and the filth will be swept away."_

Orion sunk into his chair, groaning while he tiredly rubbed his forehead.

He shot the wizard a baleful glance, and said acerbically, "And surely you heard that I won't allow that to happen. I don't want muggles to die! Not that I particularly care about them, but we aren't remotely ready to wage any kind of war against them. And there's no point to it either. We simply have to make sure that they never discover our world, and we would be saving ourselves a lot of trouble, Tom. What you want isn't possible and you've always known that I'm against it! Must we have the same old discussion again?!"

"_I'll make you see reason soon,"_ hissed Voldemort unfazed, his lips quirking upwards.

"Yeah, right, keeping deluding yourself," snapped Orion with exasperation, before he checked his wristwatch and sighed. "We can continue this later. The Dark Allies must be here already-"

"_They can wait,"_ interrupted Voldemort harshly, piercing him with a hard gaze. _"You will soon have to decide if you're with me or against me regarding the Stone, boy."_

"Decide?" bit out Orion, glowering at him. "I decided ages ago, and you know it. I don't want the Mayan Stone to be used! For Circe's sake, I will stop you if you seriously intend to go through with it, Tom. I've always been very honest about it with you."

"_You previously accepted that it could be used for defensive purposes,"_ hissed Voldemort pointedly, a large, sly smirk curving his lips, _"as long as I didn't do anything to incite the muggles' attack. It seems that I won't even have the need to do it. Dumbledore's pet will do it for me. Surely now you won't go against your own word. It was our agreement." _

"For defensive purposes, yes," gritted out Orion through clenched teeth, "if they bomb us, or whatever else of the sort. But casting a massive Killing Curse wouldn't be a defensive purpose, would it?"

"_It would if muggles attacked us with their weapons,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, an angered and impatient glint flashing in his crimson eyes.

"Look, I'm seriously not going to discuss this with you again," interjected Orion with a placating tone of voice. "It would take us hours. And we already agreed on some points. Keep playing with your Mayan Stone by yourself, if you like, but you agreed to never use it against anyone without consulting me first. And you can't break your oath. For my part, I will stop Arian from revealing himself to the muggles and from starting something that we, wizards, will not be able to manage or cope with. You can do whatever you like, for all I care, as long as you keep your oath to me."

"_Very well,"_ conceded Voldemort, waving a hand dismissively. A little devious smirk tugged his lips, and he hissed calmly, _"After all, I need to use the Stone jointly with you, for my plans. And I'm sure you'll see things my way, when the time comes. I doubt Valenor will leave you any other option."_

Orion darkly grumbled under his breath, but didn't press the matter further.

"_It didn't escape my notice that you didn't mention Hogwarts as a target for our attacks,"_ hissed Voldemort coolly, arching an eyebrow. _"Why is that?"_

Perking up, Orion shot him a large smile, and said with a trace of excitement, "I think it should be left for the very end, as our last strike to conquer the whole of Great Britain." He leaned forward, and continued enthusiastically, "Think about it, Tom, once we control the Ministries, the light wizards will have no other choice but to make Hogwarts their sanctuary. We can attack it a couple of months after having the Ministries in our grasp, and Dumbledore would be drawn into it. He would have to make an appearance in the battle, since it would be an expected attack from our part. Unlike the battles for the first of August, which will take them by surprise, the light wizards would be prepared for the battle at Hogwarts."

His smile widened brightly, and he added vehemently, "Thus, they would focus all their forces on it, and so should we, to finally strike them out. Dumbledore will surely bring over his French allies for it, and if we defeat them all, then the light wizards in France will tremble. And since conquering France would be our next step, we would have already done part of the job, and their country would more easily fall into our hands."

"_You're not leaving much time in between wars,"_ hissed Voldemort pensively.

"Yes, exactly!" said Orion adamantly, shooting him a beaming grin. "That's the idea, to conquer Europe swiftly. One war after the other, without any significant pause, so that the countries cannot help each other or have time to regroup their forces."

"_I will ponder the matter,"_ hissed Voldemort noncommittally.

Orion bit his tongue before he lashed out at the wizard, and then decided to press for a straight answer regarding a more urgent issue.

He pierced the wizard with a demanding gaze, and muttered quietly, "About Arian, you do agree that he should be our prime target, over Dumbledore himself, right?"

"_Killing Dumbledore is more important than killing the boy,"_ hissed Voldemort placidly. _"I don't care if Valenor lives for a while longer. But if it's so crucial to you, I will help you out."_ He pinned him with his crimson gaze, and demanded gravely, _"You often repeat that he's more powerful than the old coot. Would he stand a chance against both of us combined?"_

"If we dueled him together?" asked Orion with surprise, not having expected such an offer from the wizard, given that Arian's plan suited Voldemort's purposes in the man's opinion.

"_Yesss, together,"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, his lips curving upwards as he stretched out a hand and trailed a finger along Orion's jaw line.

"I think that, together," said Orion quietly, ignoring the distracting, devious caress, "we should be able to best him."

"_To kill him,"_ hissed Voldemort, pinning him with a piercing gaze, his fingers stilling, "_you must mean."_

Orion shot him a glance, and nodded stiffly. "Um, yeah, to kill him."

Then he glanced down at the floor, frowning. As strange as it was, he didn't want Arian to die yet. He wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know how the light wizard's childhood had been like, if he had liked Beauxbatons, if the wizard loved it as much as he loved Durmstrang, if he had had friends there, if there was anyone he was close to. He wanted to know anecdotes about his life, both silly and important things, impressions and cherished memories. He wanted to know from Arian what had happened with his father, how he had spent his years with the Flamels, how he had gotten along with them, what he had seen during his voyages, what he had learned, what he had experienced. He wanted to know when and how Arian had become so powerful. He felt a deep, intense curiosity about the light wizard, one that he needed to satisfy.

He wished to know when the light wizard had discovered he was the Vindico Lumen, how, what he had gone through due to it, what he had felt, and what he believed and thought. He wanted to know about the wizard's past lives. And even if he didn't want to remember his own reincarnations, he wanted to know about their shared lifetimes in which they had known each other. He wanted to know why Arian felt such a strong attachment due to them, seemingly unable to let go of them. Why Arian was the Vindico Lumen just when he had to become the Vindico Atrum, and why the two of them were linked so.

In short, he wanted to pry every answer from the light wizard. Indeed, he didn't want Arian to die yet.

Orion speared Voldemort with his gaze, and said firmly, "Rather than killing him, I would prefer if we captured him. He could give us lots of information regarding the Light's plans."

"_You were affected by his Veela allure,"_ hissed Voldemort in a low, deadly tone of voice.

Orion's head jerked, startled by the abrupt statement. Nevertheless, he conceded in a reluctant murmur, "Yes."

"_Don't let it happen again,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, piercing him with narrowed eyes. _"You were never affected by the Delacour girl."_

"Fleur doesn't hold a candle to him," scoffed out Orion, as he briskly carded his fingers through his hair. "He's a quarter Veela like her, but he's infinitely more powerful."

"_Doesn't his light magic feel repulsive to you?"_ demanded Voldemort harshly.

"Repulsive? No," said Orion sincerely. "It feels antagonistic." He gazed up at the dark wizard, and muttered darkly, "And it feels addictive and enticing to me, when he wants it to be so, when he uses the allure."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed to slits, and in a flash, the dark wizard stood up and yanked Orion to his feet, as he sneered icily, _"You're a pathetic little fool if you feel any attraction towards him. That must be precisely what he wants, for you to allow your mind to be clouded by-"_

"Are you jealous?" gasped out Orion disbelievingly. A wide smirk spread over his face, and he drawled, "My, my, Tom, there's no need, really-"

"_Stop flaunting about your idiocy," _hissed Voldemort sharply, a fierce glint of anger flashing in his crimson eyes. _"Jealously isn't an emotion I would ever feel."_ His lips stretched into a nasty smile, and he added in a cruel, silky hiss, _"And I know that I can fuck you anytime I want. What's there to be jealous about? As a matter of fact, I even know that you'll end up in my bed tonight."_

Orion jerked away from the wizard's clutch, and he venomously glared at him, as he spat with contempt, "You're mad if you think I'm shagging you after what you did-"

"_I didn't do anything,"_ hissed Voldemort in a low, deadly tone of voice, his fury evident on his expression. _"You've exhausted all my patience regarding the matter. I didn't give you a male pregnancy potion, and I'm not repeating it twice. Erroneously believe what you want, but don't pester me with your accusations again." _

Orion regarded him with a neutral expression on his face, and finally jeered snidely, "I would be using you for sex, nothing else."

"Likewise," sneered Voldemort, his lips curling into a chilly, hard smirk.

Orion arched an eyebrow at him, and said sharply, "I'll think about it. Now I'm going to the meeting. I'm already fed up with you."

And he briskly strode out of the room, without waiting for the dark wizard. The meeting with the Dark Allies would be his show after all. As far as he was concerned, Voldemort only had to look intimidating as always, put them in their places when needed with just a glance, and support all of his ideas. And he had the absolute certainty that the wizard would do all of those things, since he expected it from him and Voldemort knew it.

* * *

Orion stepped out of the fireplace, leaving dwindling green flames behind, and he flicked his wand to make any speck of flint or dust disappear from his robes. His green gaze swept across Durmstrang's Headmaster's office and he caught sight of the two seated wizards who had glanced at him the moment he had arrived.

Roman Komorov was seated behind his desk, looking as stony-faced as always and apparently not liking the situation much. And Orion almost flinched, because he still expected to see Vagnarov behind that desk, greeting him with a warm smile or a chiding smirk on his aged face.

The other occupant in the room was Lucius Malfoy, who was now standing up, his cold, silvery gaze fixed on him. The wizard seemed to ignore Komorov, like a king would disregard a plebeian. It was clear to Orion that Lucius must have gotten there but mere minutes before he had, and he doubted if Lucius and Komorov had said anything to each other. Their mutual dislike was palpable.

Furthermore, Lucius' stance spoke volumes. The wizard had acted meekly around Voldemort, surely to avert the Dark Lord's attention from him as much as he could. Malfoys had a knack for slithering their way out of sticky situations, coming out smelling like roses. And Lucius was like a chameleon when it suited his purposes, knowing how to act and portray himself in every circumstance in order to attain his objectives.

At present, Lucius wasn't acting meekly at all. His stance was one of supreme superiority and steely self-confidence, his shoulders squared, his back straight, and his handsome face coldly expressionless. The man was still thinner than what was normal for him, his cheeks were slightly sunk in, and his long platinum hair was lank, falling limply on his shoulders, but none of it rid him from his imposing air.

Orion approached them calmly, and shot Komorov a pointed glance. If possible, the young Headmaster's expression turned even frostier, but the wizard got the point and he rose to his feet and made way to the door.

As Komorov passed by his side, the wizard whispered sharply under his breath, "My office is not a rendezvous point, Black! Think about someplace else next time."

And with that, and a forceful slam of the door, the wizard left them alone in the room. Unfazed, Orion turned to stare at Lucius and saw that the man was closely inspecting him with a cold expression on his face. But Orion did nothing to break the silence and he allowed the wizard to assess him as much as he liked, since Lucius hadn't had the opportunity to openly do so during the meetings.

For his part, while the tension between them seemed to increase, he merely regarded Lucius with impassivity, thoughts slowly revolving in his mind. Before flooing into the office, he had made sure that his Occlumency shields were tightly wrapped around the memories of his past lives, but he couldn't help thinking about what he knew of Regulus' life and Lucius' part in it.

He knew that two of the most important people in Regulus' rather tragic life had been Lucius and Severus, and it inevitably made him feel a strong affinity towards both wizards. He had lost the love and attention of his mother when Sirius had ran away from their home, he had lost his closeness to the brother he looked up to and admired so much when Sirius chose to stay with James Potter, but he had gained a deep friendship with Severus and an intimate relationship with Lucius due to it as well.

At first, feeling hurt and bitter when Sirius started ignoring him in Hogwarts in favor of spending all his time with his Gryffindor light friends, he had approached Severus as a way of attempting to regain his older brother's attention, since Severus was constantly picked on by the Marauders. He had thought that if he befriended Severus, that he would hurt Sirius and that his brother would come back to him to pull him away from Snape.

It had completely backfired. Sirius started to ignore him even more, wanting nothing to do with a Slytherin little brother who was friends with 'Snivellus'. But on the other hand, it had served to bring him closer to Severus and to truly see who the young wizard was behind his snarky, closed off façade. Something that had started as a manipulation for his own purposes of taking revenge on his brother, had blossomed into the only steadfast friendship he would have in his life.

With Lucius, two years older than them, something similar had happened. It was Severus who had been acquainted with Lucius, since the older boy had detected Severus' brilliancy, his mastery of dark curses, and his deft hands in Potions, and had thus considered Snape worthy of his acquaintance despite his tainted blood. And, Regulus, through his friendship with Severus, had come to know Lucius.

The Marauders had never dared to mess with a Slytherin older than themselves, and one known to viciously take revenge upon anyone who dared to look at him funny. Nevertheless, Sirius' contempt for Lucius was widely known, so again, Regulus had taken the opportunity of attaching himself to Lucius as a way to hurt his brother as much as Sirius had hurt him. And the initial attraction between them had slowly turned into something deeper. Lucius' had been his first love and lover before ever meeting Voldemort, and the only one with whom he had known the full pleasures and warmth of heart-felt intimacy.

Both of them had known that it couldn't last, both of them knew that Lucius was meant for Regulus' cousin, and that Lucius' parents had been already preparing the marital contract. Nevertheless, Regulus had done everything to savor every second of his time with Lucius, knowing that he would soon have to release him into Narcissa's hold. Thankfully, their separation, even though it left him feeling dejected as he lost again another person he deeply loved, wasn't as bad as it could have been, since he had always liked Narcissa. And it didn't hurt as much to relinquish Lucius to her.

But now, as Orion calmly gazed at Lucius, he realized several things. First, given what he knew of the wizard, what he had seen when he had been under his guardianship and what Draco had openly told him, Lucius' relationship with Narcissa was the kind of relationship he would have if he married Calypso. One of close friendship and companionship, deeply caring about each other, presenting a united front to the world, and working together as a unit for the wellbeing of their family and the attainment of their goals, while giving each other the freedom of looking for discrete intimate liaisons with others. And it was something that worked perfectly well for both, since he knew that the Malfoys had always shared a deep friendship between them, and socially, they were the perfect couple.

And second, now he knew that Snape had been absolutely right. He had wondered if he could somehow use his personal knowledge regarding Lucius to subtly manipulate the wizard for his purposes. But it was clear that it would mess both their lives if he ever admitted who he had been. Despite what he remembered, he currently felt no strong attraction to the man, just the lingering feeling of a deep attachment and the faint stab of a lost chance.

"I assume," drawled a cold voice, "you wanted to see me to inform me about my son's condition."

Pulling out of his thoughts, Orion gazed at him with impassivity, only detecting the wizard's veiled anger in the way Lucius was grasping his cane, gloved fingers tightly wrapped around the piece of silver shaped as a snake's head. Other than that, the wizard was coldly assessing him, yet Orion also noticed how the man's lips thinned when his quicksilver gaze focused on his scarred forehead.

"You must also want to ask me many other questions," said Orion nonchalantly, arching an eyebrow at him. "I know that Narcissa has filled you in about what happened during the year you spent in Azkaban. And I know that you must be very angry at me, because I never told you that I had been Harry Potter and I lived under your roof. I made you lose face before the Dark Lord and the rest of the Death Eaters."

A muscle clenched in Lucius' jaw, and he said with icy indifference, "Indeed. However, you should thank your Aunt. My wife persisted until she persuaded me that none of your actions were meant to discredit me or to maliciously take advantage of my family, but to protect yourself from the Dark Lord. I can hold grudges for a long time, but for the sake of my wife and son, I will not."

Orion slightly relaxed, and said quietly, "I'm glad to hear it-"

"I want to know how Draco is doing," interrupted Lucius sharply, his silvery eyes marginally narrowing. "I know what the Dark Lord did to him and I'm aware that Draco was bordering on death before you took him. Severus will not tell me where you're hiding him or anything else other that his condition is still uncertain."

"I cannot tell you where I'm keeping him," said Orion coolly, "both for his safety and mine. But I can tell you that he has been in a magical healing coma almost since the moment I took him away from the Dark Lord's Manor. A healer tended to him, and she did her best-"

"When will he come out of it?" demanded Lucius, intently piercing him with his gaze. "And what are your intentions?" His jaw clenched, and he said stiffly, "What do you want in return for keeping him safe from the Dark Lord?"

Startled, Orion stared at him, and said vehemently, "I hope that he'll come out of it soon. His condition is stable, at least. But you must know that I'm not going to ask you for anything, Lucius. I care about Draco and I'm not protecting him to get something from you. Surely you know me that much."

"I know only what I see," said Lucius with a chilly sneer on his face. "You've climbed your way up in the Dark's circles, you're now addressed as 'Lord Black', you evidently have influence on the Dark Lord, you have your very own allies, and you're an important figure in the war." His sneer intensified, as his voice turned dangerously slow, "Such expedient success. I wonder, indeed, what you're plotting and how you intend to use my son for your purposes and machinations-"

"You're getting it all wrong!" snapped Orion with irritation. "The only thing I want is for the Dark to win the wars, and the only thing I'm planning to do with Draco is to keep him safe. The Dark Lord wants to kill him, as you very well know, and given your circumstances, I'm the only one who can help Draco. I'll keep him in hiding."

He leveled him with a hard gaze, and continued firmly, "Though, I will give him the option to become one of my Elite. Obviously, he cannot participate in battles or Voldemort would see him, but I think it would be a good idea if he trained with my Elite. It would help him if he ever needed to seriously defend himself." He paused, but then added curtly, "Actually, whatever he decides, he's already one of my followers. I marked him-"

"You dared brand him?" snarled Lucius, an enraged glint flashing in his silvery eyes, his shoulders stiffening while he took a menacing step forwards, cane in hand.

The tension in the wizard's body was such that Orion knew that the man was seconds away from cursing him. It was clear that he needed to make Lucius fully understand everything.

"It was either that or Voldemort would have used the Dark Mark to torture him and finish him off!" gritted out Orion angrily. "And I might as well tell you that to save his life I had to do much more than that." He pierced him with a hard gaze. "You remember Lezander Zraven right? You met him when he was my boyfriend. And you must know through Death Eater gossip that I'm partially bonded to him. Well, I had no choice but to ask Lezander for his blood and I fed it to Draco-"

He instantly broke off the moment he saw that Lucius was half way from pulling his wand from his cane, with a livid expression on his face, and he immediately launched forwards and clutched the wizard's wrist in a tight grasp, as he said sternly, "Think twice before attempting to attack me. You must know by now that you no longer stand a chance against me, and I don't want to hurt you."

Lucius visibly shook with suppressed rage, and he forcefully pulled away from Orion's grasp. Taking a step back, he stuck his wand back into the cane, and said in a low, irate tone of voice, "You tainted my son's blood. I know what vampire blood does to a wizard. Draco is forever changed now. And you declared that you care about his wellbeing?"

He pierced Orion with his eyes, and said in cold fury, "He's no longer a pureblood. I will have no other choice but to disown him. If that was what you wanted to accomplish, I congratulate you. You've rid me from my only son and heir."

A flare of anger swept through Orion, and his hands balled into fists, as he hissed out, "Lezander's blood saved Draco's life, without it, he would have died. Yes, Draco will probably have some vampire traits, as I have, but he's still a wizard. You shouldn't consider it a reason to disown him – you're the Head of your House and you can slightly change the rules of your line! Or at least make a small exception for your son."

He paused to calm himself, and then pinned him with a hard gaze, as he continued curtly, "Draco's blood status shouldn't be considered modified. You don't need to be that strict regarding the Malfoy line. As the Head, you can decide how far to take things and you can give concessions. And I know you will. You love him, you would do anything in your means for him, and you will accept him as he is now when you think it through, Lucius. It will be hard enough for Draco without having to worry about the repercussions you might inflict on him." He narrowed his eyes at him, and bit out, "Besides, no one needs to know that he took Lezander's blood. If that's what you want-"

"It is," stated Lucius coldly, while his body remained visibly tense, as if ready to take action or enforce it in any second. "I want your Wizard's Oath that you will never disclose it to anyone."

"I'm not giving you my oath," said Orion with a sharp edge to his tone. "You will have to learn to trust me again. Only Calypso Rosier, Lezander, perhaps his parents, and myself know about it. And I can assure you that we would never have a reason to breathe a word about the matter to anyone else."

A tense silence spread between them, and Lucius finally said with an icy, warningly tone of voice, "You will not feed him anymore of that vampire's blood."

"If he comes out of the coma and isn't fully recovered yet, then I will," said Orion firmly. He narrowed his eyes at him, and sneered angrily, "For the sake of his blood purity you would rather have him physically crippled or mentally damaged? Don't be ridiculous. Lezander's blood did the trick before and it's the only thing that could help him again if it's necessary. More blood will not turn him into a vampire."

He took a step forward towards the wizard, and added crisply, "He would not be a 'halfbreed' no matter how much he takes. Perhaps his blood can no longer be considered a hundred percent pure, but the change is minimal. And it's a matter of opinion if he's regarded a pureblood still or not. And I bet you anything that when you tell Narcissa about this, she will agree with me and everything I have said. What I did, I did for the best, and I don't regret it."

Lucius speared him with an intense gaze, and said coldly, "Don't expect me to thank you for what you have done to him."

"I don't," said Orion shortly.

"Will you protect him?" demanded Lucius sharply, searchingly gazing at him. At Orion's firm nod, he pressed on with a hard edge in his voice, "How far will you go to do so if necessary?"

"I'll make sure that Voldemort never kills him or seriously harms him again," said Orion calmly. At Lucius' silence, he narrowed his eyes at him, and said curtly, "I'm not killing Voldemort, if that's what you were asking. And you shouldn't be thinking about betraying him, Lucius. Draco is safe with me and you have no further reason to turn against Voldemort, no matter what he's done. I'm not saying this because I condone what he did to Draco, but because if you betray Voldemort in any slight way, you would be betraying all of us. He's needed, and you know that I firmly stand by his side. He and I are a united front in the war, and I will not let anyone disrupt that."

Lucius calmly caressed the head of his cane, his stance visibly relaxing, and he drawled impassively, "I'm not a traitor."

"You would if it meant saving Draco from Voldemort," pointed out Orion sternly. "But since I'm helping Draco, and I'm Voldemort's ally, then your loyalty should still be towards the Dark."

"It is," said Lucius in a steely tone of voice, anger flashing in his eyes at Orion's implicit doubt and questioning.

And with a cold sneer on his face, the wizard shot him one last hard glance, before calmly making his way towards the fireplace.

Orion hesitated, not wanting to leave matters like that. He had known that Lucius would be furious at him, but he hadn't expected that their once amicable relationship would deteriorate so much. It was clear to him that it would take Lucius a very long time to forgive him, particularly about the blood he had fed Draco. Nevertheless, given the wizard's last reaction, he was now absolutely certain that the man wouldn't be betraying the Dark after what had happened to Draco. And figuring that out had been one of his main objectives for the meeting.

Nevertheless, he wanted to somehow improve things between them. So the moment Lucius made a move to grasp floo powder from the fireplace's mantelpiece, Orion called out quickly, "Wait! We should-"

He broke off and froze, at the same time that Lucius spun around with wand in hand, as coldness swept all around them. A chilly shudder ran down Orion's spine, his breath and Lucius' coming out in white puffs, but he could hardly believe what was happening.

Indeed, it took Orion off-guard in a most extraordinary way and he gazed forward at the figures materializing before them, his eyes wide as saucers, feeling as if his heart was about to frantically burst from his chest.

There, in all their revealing glory and phantasmagorical splendor, floated Morgana and Mordred. Orion's eyes instantly flickered to Lucius. He knew that if Malfoys allowed themselves to gape with slack jaws, the man would undoubtedly be doing precisely that. But since it wasn't the case, the wizard was merely staring at the spirits with marginally wide eyes, his feet rooted in place, his body rigid.

In the next second, Orion swiftly pulled himself together, and his eyes narrowed sharply as he gazed back at the Spirits. His mind was frantically rushing, trying to understand the why's of the situation, and above all, what to do with Lucius.

But then he caught sight of Morgana's expression. She looked satisfied as her ghostly gaze swept along Lucius, before she shot Orion an imperceptible little smile. And just like that, Orion knew that the Spirits had planned this beforehand, that they had appeared there purposely, already knowing that Lucius was with him. They had something in their minds and he decided that it was probably best for him to stay silent and see what they would do.

When he saw Mordred's changing expressions, he furthermore decided to mask his surprise and play along with whatever they were up to. At first, very briefly, Mordred looked as if he would rather be gobbled down by a Dementor. Then, his whole attitude changed to one of deep reverence – towards him, of all people. Orion knew how much it must be costing Mordred given that the spirit had always despised him.

"Lord Black," breathed out Mordred, floating towards him with an expression full of worshipful admiration and respect. He bowed his head down, and murmured subserviently, "My Prophet."

Orion nearly choked, he hadn't expected that much. However, in an instant, he straightened his shoulders, starting to comprehend exactly what they were doing, and he played his part.

He gazed at the spirit nonchalantly, and said magnanimously, while shooting him a warm smile that cost him some considerable effort, "Mordred. I'm glad to see you're doing well, my friend."

Lucius' reaction didn't pass unnoticed to him. The man's head jerked, his grasp on his wand had become lax, from shock, undoubtedly. But there was also recognition in his silvery eyes, and a dawning, flabbergasted understanding, as his gaze flickered quickly from the Spirits to him. Orion knew that Lucius must have instantly recognized who the Spirits were. Dark Arts History books were filled with faithful depictions of such legendary figures. Yet the wizard still looked as if he had been struck speechless.

"Ah, a Malfoy," said Morgana warmly, swiftly sliding closer to them. "It has been many centuries indeed since we had one of your ancestors gracing our Castle." She glanced at Orion, and asked softly, "Is he one of your followers, my dear? Is he worthy?"

Orion's lips minutely quirked in amusement. She knew exactly who Lucius was and everything about the man. But he masked his face quickly, and said pointedly, "Lucius is Voldemort's follower."

Lucius jerked, and his gaze swiftly flickered again between them.

"You… they…" he murmured a bit hoarsely, finally having found his voice. The man seemed to pull himself together in a flash, and he straightened up to his full height, and bowed down to the Spirits, his voice even, gracious, and full of awed, deep reverence, "Lady Morgana. Lord Mordred."

"That we are indeed," said Morgana, her voice eerie, soft, caressing even, as she fixedly gazed at the dark wizard. "Malfoys have always had a very sharp mind. I hope you won't disappoint. Surely you understand the implications, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius shot Orion a brief glance, stared back at her, and muttered hoarsely, "He… The Prophet?"

"Precisely," said Morgana with satisfaction, swooping to Orion's side to briefly caress his hair.

"You can touch him," muttered Lucius quietly, fixedly staring at them while he seemed to regain his composure again.

Morgana's lips tugged upwards. "And he can touch us. Our Prophet is a Necromancer, Mr. Malfoy. Surely you were aware of the fact." She fondly gazed at Orion, who remained absolutely still, and said softly, "Indeed, he has many wonderful abilities."

"You… lived?" breathed out Lucius, intently gazing at her. "You are ghosts? Or-"

"We are spirits, Mr. Malfoy," interrupted Morgana calmly. "In a way, we live indeed. Our souls are tied to this plane. Surely you deduce why. Surely your parents raised you in the Old Ways, Mr. Malfoy." Lucius jerkily nodded his head, and a bright phantasmagorical smile stretched on her lips. "My son and I worked hard during many centuries to make sure that The Prophet would exist, that he would arise." She warmly gazed at Orion. "And we did a fine job, wouldn't you say, Mr. Malfoy? He's everything we ever hoped he would be." She sharply glanced back at Lucius. "Is he not?"

"Yes, My Lady," replied Lucius quietly, his gaze riveted on Orion, as if he wished he could extract all answers from him with just a glance.

"He is what the Dark has been waiting for, Mr. Malfoy," said Morgana softly, piercing him with intense ghostly eyes. "And I'm sure you will be ever loyal to him. Indeed, his path won't be an easy one. He will need supporters. You will be his supporter, won't you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, of course," said Lucius instantly, meeting her gaze with deep reverence, looking as if the task appointed to him was one of great honor, as if he had been indeed prized with a glorious position of influence and power.

"Good," she said with satisfaction, giving him a hard smile. She pierced Orion with her whitish eyes, and murmured, "You should mark him, my child."

Orion calmly arched an eyebrow. Ah, so she finally got to the point of what she wanted from him.

"As I said, he's Voldemort's. If he loses the Dark Mark, Voldemort would suspect me. I rather that it didn't happen." He shot a brief glance at Lucius, and muttered pensively, "I could mark him in the future, when no risks are involved. He would be useful."

Morgana minutely nodded, looking marginally content with his reply. She floated towards Lucius, and said quietly, "Your son is very important to us, Mr. Malfoy. Our Prophet will take good care of him." Her gaze flickered to Orion, before it went back to the wizard. "It's imperative that they have a child together. One who would be very powerful, one who would join the lines once more. I'm sure you agree with me, Mr. Malfoy. You could have no better heir for your House."

Orion's jaw clenched but he kept quiet, while he saw that Lucius momentarily frowned with puzzlement, before the man nodded at her in resolute agreement.

Morgana smiled with supreme satisfaction, and said curtly, "Vindico Atrum, Mr. Malfoy. That is what we call Our Prophet. Remember it, but never speak of it, or of us, to others until the time is right. You will know when that will be."

Lucius took that as the dismissal it was, and courteously bowed to them. With one last undecipherable glance at Orion, he swiftly approached the fireplace, grasped floo powder from the mantelpiece and disappeared in a burst of green flames.

The second he was gone, Orion turned to the Spirits and mockingly clapped his hands together. "Great performance." He shot them a sharp glance, and demanded crisply, "May I know exactly what was that all about?"

"Surely you have figured it out," snapped Mordred, back to his usual snide attitude towards him.

"I didn't think you would be hailing me as the VA so soon," interjected Orion acerbically, his eyes narrowing to slits. "I thought you would only do it once I passed the so-called Ultimate Test."

"We merely decided to speed things up a little bit, my child," said Morgana softly, eyeing him carefully. "Revealing ourselves to Lucius Malfoy was simply a small initial step that could help you a long way."

"Fine," muttered Orion dismissively. Neither of the Spirits made a move to disappear away, and he bit out briskly, "Is there something else you wanted?"

"Watch your tone, boy," snarled Mordred, piercing him with angered, ghostly eyes. "There is in fact something that needs discussion." His eyes narrowed to slits, and he hissed out, "We know you're going to Zraven Citadel in a week-"

"And we wanted to warn you," interceded Morgana warmly, shooting her son a hard, censuring glance. She swooped before Orion, and said quietly, "My dear, you will probably encounter the Sdravkul Kraljica Mati-"

"Probably?" quipped Orion curtly. "It will be for sure. Or I'll force it if necessary." He eyed her intently, and said dryly, "I was there when Râzvan and Mireilla argued amongst themselves. They let a lot of things slip. How the Kraljica Mati's goal has also been to produce the VA but that she and you two don't get along, that you despise each other, since it seems that your tactics are different and that you don't agree with hers or she with yours."

"There are irreconcilable differences between us," conceded Morgana with a hard edge in her tone, her hatred for the Kraljica Mati almost palpable. "And we wanted to warn you that you must tread carefully with her. We won't attempt to prevent your meeting with her – we cannot." She pinned him with a piercing gaze. "However, keep in mind that whatever injustices you think we are responsible for, she has manipulated your life as well. Don't let her deceive you. She will try to turn you against us."

Orion scoffed, before he narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you saying? That she will lie to me-"

"Lie? She prides herself that she never lies, that she doesn't have the need to," hissed out Mordred sharply, briskly floating to be inches away from him, "but she manipulates nonetheless, boy." He gazed down at him, and continued in an angry, low, slow voice, "She will weave you in like a spider, waiting just for the perfect moment to strike. She will appeal to your pathetic sentimentalities, and you, no doubt, will succumb to it." He shot him a contemptuous glance, and sneered acidly, "Knowing you, you'll easily fall into her trap, and she'll pull your strings like a puppetmaster-"

"Enough, my son," interrupted Morgana with sharp annoyance. Mordred shot her a dark glance but pulled away from Orion nonetheless, while she fixed her gaze back on Orion, and said quietly, "Do not scorn what we have done for you, my child. Do not let her fool you."

And without another word, the Spirits swiftly faded away, leaving Orion with a deep frown on his face. After a few seconds, he shook his head, suddenly feeling very tired. Regardless, without wasting any more time, he cast a parsel-invisibility spell on himself before leaving the office.

Now that he was in Durmstrang, he was going to take the opportunity to pay a visit to one of his professors – Petra Podroff. He was certain that he could slip around any patrolling Danish Aurors that could be surveilling the school in the hope of catching him. And he wanted his Healing Dark Arts professor to cast those detecting charms on him, to finally put it out of his mind for a while.

* * *

The moment Orion had reached Potter Manor, he had found Calypso cloistered in his master study, making it clear that she had claimed it for herself. One cursory glance at the books pilled in several high stacks on top of the clustered desk, and he had known that the young witch had bought a whole muggle bookshop worth of textbooks regarding muggle war history, modern weapons and warfare, and all kinds of religions.

At his entrance, Calypso's eyebrows had hitched upwards, and she had greeted him with a 'You're looking chirpy and satisfied with yourself.' And indeed, he had been.

"…they gave me the third degree-"

"The third degree?" said Calypso, frowning at him confusedly.

Orion waved a hand dismissively. "It's a muggle expression."

He was perched on one edge of the desk, having cleared the spot for the sake of his behind's comfort. Calypso, on the other hand, was still seated as he had first found her; on the ornate chair behind the desk, all signs of tired drowsiness cleared from her face long ago. He had already explained in full length everything about his meetings with the Alphas, Voldemort and his minions, and with Lucius. About the latter, particularly, Calypso had had a lot to say.

Unsurprisingly to him, she had understood and sympathized with Lucius' difficult position regarding Draco and his blood purity. But in the end, both Orion and her had agreed that the wizard wouldn't end up disowning Draco, no matter what, mostly because the man did truly care about his son and also because Narcissa would never allow it to happen. That had reassured them quite a bit.

As for the Spirits' little play-acting with Lucius, Calypso thought that it had been superb, and also rather nice of them to help him out in that manner. Orion, on the other hand, was still reserving his opinion.

True, it would probably help him a long way with Lucius. And it was definitely the Spirits' first step to publicly hail him as the Vindico Atrum. But the latter was precisely what left him feeling a bit uneasy: it had happened too soon. He had never expected that the Spirits would do something like that. It felt as if they were pressuring him, as if things were rushing and speeding forward at a higher rate than he had anticipated.

Nevertheless, it had helped him to discuss it with Calypso. Sharing their opinions and ideas together always served to tranquilize him and to sort out his own thoughts.

The only thing he had left out had been the whole pregnancy issue, since he knew that Calypso would discuss it to exhaustion with him if she even got a whiff about it. And he rather not think about the matter for a very long time. Petra Podroff had assuaged his concerns – all the charms she had cast on him had given negative results. He had ended up obliviating her nonetheless. And now, 'out of mind, out of way' was his new motto for the time being, regarding that matter.

At present, he was well into recounting how his meeting with the Dark Allies had gone, since he had left the juiciest part for the end.

"I wish you stopped using muggle expressions," huffed out Calypso with annoyance. "I stopped using typical dark wizard expressions involving Morgana's and Mordred's names because you glowered at me each time I did. You could do the same for me when it comes to muggle phrases."

"You still slip from time to time," pointed out Orion, with a slight scowl.

"Well, at least I try!" snapped Calypso impatiently.

"Fine," said Orion soothingly. "No more muggle expressions. But it's hard to shake off the first ten years of my life spent like a muggle, you know."

Calypso huffed with irritation once more, and Orion muttered under his breath, "You act like a barmy witch sometimes…"

She speared him with a nasty glare, and Orion instantly beamed a sweet, innocent smile at her. "Like I was saying, the Dark Allies badgered me with questions the moment they stopped gawking at me." He chuckled under his breath. "You should have seen their expressions when they first saw me! Most of them looked like grindylows out of the water with severe cases of asthma. Their mouths flapping open and close, without being able to stutter two words together. But they did pull themselves together quickly after a few moments."

He rolled his eyes, as he continued, "But unlike the Death Eaters who took Voldemort's word for it, the Dark Allies started firing off demanding questions about what had been printed in the newspapers and about my visible magical aura. I had expected it. I mean, the Death Eaters didn't have much trouble believing that I was Grindelwald's grandson since many of them have seen me using my magic at some point, and thus know how powerful I am. The Dark Allies, on the other hand, have never seen me in action. So it took me a while, and a demonstration of what I could do with my magic –Alistair Armitage demanded it!- to convince them that I was indeed the grandson of a former Dark Lord. And you have no idea how their attitudes changed towards me, almost servile and sycophantic, and certainly fearful!"

Orion shook his head and sniggered sharply. "And it serves them right. Pretentious bastards that they are, it made a world of difference to them if I came from 'Dark Lord stock', as Bruno Constanzo, one of the Italian blokes, put it." He shot her a frown, and added, "Oh, and besides Sebastien, who obviously didn't gape at me, Titania's uncle's reaction was somewhat suspicious. Comodus Conrad merely smiled at me with satisfaction when he saw me. I'm beginning to think that he either knows something about the VA matter from Titania, or that he's an Aux himself. That didn't stop him, however, when push came to shove, from demanding that the American banks should have the right to finance the so-called Reconstruction."

He scoffed snidely, but then his eyes gleamed as he remembered something, and he chuckled under his breath. "Conrad wouldn't leave the matter alone, and Armitage and he almost came to casting curses at each other." He sighed wistfully. "I wished they had, at least the meeting wouldn't have turned so boring by the end, when all they did was bicker at each other."

When he saw Calypso's confused expression, he explained further, "They have opposing interests about the issue, Scaly. Conrad and the other two Americans are majority owners of the largest banks in the US, and Armitage has dealings with the Goblins. The Goblins have tried for ages to make their overseas Gringotts branches in America become more important than the banks owned and controlled by wizards, but they haven't succeeded yet. So Conrad and Armitage spent about an hour screaming at each other. I had never seen them lose their tempers like that - that part was actually quite enjoyable."

Smirking, Orion glanced at her with dark amusement. "It's clear that they're feeling the urgency to satisfy their little greedy hearts now that the real war in England will commence in a month. And by the way they kept going on about the Reconstruction, it's like they're expecting us to destroy all wizarding properties in Europe!" He rolled his eyes. "Galleons are sparkling in their eyes, while they imagine all the hefty loans that Ministries of Magic will have to request from their banks. It's a bit ridiculous, it's not as if we're savages who will demolish everything in sight!"

"They will still make fat earnings from any loans their banks grant," interjected Calypso gravely, with an angered scowl. "What are the Americans and Armitage giving us in return? And who got the rights for the Reconstruction in the end?"

"Well, we finally decided to divide the countries between the Americans and Armitage, who in this issue represents his interests and thus the Goblins'," replied Orion calmly. "Any loans requested by the Ministries of Eastern Europe will fall into Gringotts' domain, and Western Europe goes to Conrad and his pals. If you ask me, Conrad got the better deal. But it was Voldemort's final decision, and it makes sense because he got his hands on the Mayan Stone through Conrad, and Titania's guardian will give us more than Armitage. Comodus Conrad promised that in a year or two he would be ready to pull the strings in the Congress of United Wands, so that when the time comes for their Senators to vote, the majority will agree to send us some of their forces to help us fight a war or two in continental Europe."

"But most of their Senators are light wizards," pointed out Calypso. "In the political arena, dark wizards are a tiny minority over there."

"Ah, but it all comes to galleons," quipped Orion loftily. "Conrad and his two pals aren't politicians themselves, but they have their claws in everything. All wizarding businesses and industries rely on their banks for funds, and they are indebted to them. So, Conrad particularly, being the owner of the largest banks, has a lot of sway with most of the Senators. And those who don't owe him anything, he can bribe."

He paused, and quirked an eyebrow at her. "You know how it went during the wizarding colonization of North America. Dark wizards were the first to arrive there, because they fled from persecution in Europe. Several of the oldest English dark families have distant relatives over there. I bet you anything that even your House does, if you look into it. And as you know, it was kind of 'first-come, first-served' during the colonization era. The waves of light wizards got there when the dark wizards were already deeply entrenched, already having started their own financial system. Light wizards inevitably became entangled with dark wizards' banks soon after, to either start their businesses or boost them with new, large investments. And they always refused to take any loans from Gringotts - they have a kind of financial patriotism. Light wizards over there rather request a loan from a bank owned and controlled by an American dark wizard, than come here to Europe to ask it from the Goblins. They want the galleons to stay in their country throughout all of the loan-lending and saving process."

"How do you know so much about the matter?" asked Calypso, quizzically gazing at him. "Not even I know as much." Her lips wryly twisted. "Though, I do admit that finance or its history has never been one of my passions."

"Nor mine," said Orion with a grin. "It was Draco, actually, who initially explained it to me when we were kids. Remember the first time that he and I attended a Dark Allies meeting? Lucius gave each of us a dossier on every Dark Ally, and at first I didn't understand anything. Draco went through the dossier with me, and I started grasping what was going on. The rest I learned when Lucius was my guardian because he tutored me on wizarding finance, because 'a child from the distinguished House of Black has to know these things, boy. You have a fortune to increase!' "

He chuckled under his breath, and added dryly, "And I also learned a lot from listening to Armitage and Conrad spit angry accusations at each other. Those two hate each other with a passion. Which is funny, really, since they're so alike in their greedy ambitions."

"It figures that Lucius Malfoy was one of the driving forces behind your unexpected grasp on finance, and Draco as well," she said, faintly smiling at him. "For a moment there, I thought it had been your dad, and I found the idea rather mind-boggling."

Orion snorted, and said with amusement, "I think my dad would rather off himself than touch a finance textbook. And I would sympathize with him. I've quite decided that when the time comes for us to have a financial wiz, Draco will be swiftly appointed to the post."

"Yes, he would be perfect for it," said Calypso musingly, "and as a diplomat as well. His father trained him well."

He nodded in agreement, and suddenly, a bright glint spread in his green eyes, and he whispered conspiratorially, "Oh, I didn't tell you what happened with Jezabel Zabini."

Orion instantly saw how she perked up with curiosity, as he had expected since Calypso always loved a good mystery, and he grinned at her, while he continued, "The moment the meeting ended, she stood up and made her way to the door, utterly ignoring everyone. By then, her eyes were back to normal, and just before she crossed the threshold to apparate away, she shot me this weird tiny little smile that I think only I saw-"

"You think she knows about you?" gasped out Calypso with a startled expression on her face. "That she has Seen you?"

"Yes," replied Orion nonchalantly. "It would make sense, wouldn't it? Why else would she smile at me? Blaise and I aren't that close and she has never met me before. And she wouldn't be the only Seer who knows about me. Remember that Trelawney said that one of the reasons she had become an Aux was because she used to have visions about the future and me? Well, I think that perhaps Mrs. Zabini has also had visions regarding me."

He waved a hand dismissively, and added gravely, "But that isn't my point. We thought that she would be angry at me because I was the one who told Voldemort to get a Seer for all our meetings. But she didn't seem mad at me. Actually, she didn't seem mad at anyone, her face always remained expressionless. She didn't even acknowledge Voldemort. And the moment she left, I asked him what he had done to get her there, and… um…"

Orion shot her a wary glance, and muttered, "Well, you're not going to like this. I didn't like it either when Voldemort told me, but I understand that it was his only way to force Mrs. Zabini to help us. Voldemort threatened to mark Blaise and make him a Death Eater if she didn't attend the gathering and all future ones to use her powers to block them from other Seers. Blaise's mum finally agreed to it, to protect Blaise because she doesn't want him to participate in any battles."

"The Dark Lord should tread carefully with her," murmured Calypso quietly, her eyebrows furrowing. "Jezabel Zabini is known to have a very vengeful streak - her seven dead husbands are proof of it. She must loathe Voldemort for threatening her with her only son's safety. I definitely wouldn't want to be in his shoes when she decides to get even with him."

Abruptly, she shot him a bright smile, and added cheerfully, "On the other hand, by the sound of it, she likes you, so you have nothing to worry about. In fact, I think it would be a good idea if you got to know her better. Having the loyalty of a Seer could be very useful, and you can't count with Trelawney yet because she's an Aux and will only become your true follower once you become the VA. In the meanwhile, getting on Jezabel Zabini's good graces could benefit you."

"True," said Orion with a pensive expression on his face.

Calypso shot him a satisfied smile, but in the next second she quizzically gazed at him, and asked pointedly, "You didn't say what we're getting from Armitage."

"Ah, well keeping him happy means keeping the Goblins happy," replied Orion wryly, pulling out of his thoughts, "and that's nothing to scoff at."

He smirked at her, and added smugly, "And besides what all that entails, he agreed to my plan. Bellatrix already gave him the shrunk vanishing cabinets, and he said he would visit both the Scottish and Irish Ministries of Magic to decide in which would be best to plant one of the cabinets. He already told me that he thought that it would be more useful to us if he smuggled one inside the Irish Ministry of Magic, because it's more heavily warded than Scotland's. And he's quite confident that he can pull it off without being caught, or without the vanishing cabinet being detected. He knows the Ministries like the back of his hand. Oh, and he's also going to provide us with magical blueprints of the buildings and wards."

"So it will be like planning the break in to Nurmengard with Dietrich Emmerich," said Calypso, a twinge of sadness in her eyes. "Emmerich also provided us with all that information about the prison."

"Yeah, well, Armitage won't be sacrificing his life for the success of our endeavor," interjected Orion dryly, "of that you can be sure."

"You're right, it was silly of me to compare the situations," said Calypso tightly. "I don't think there are two Emmerichs of a kind."

Seeing her expression, Orion cleared his throat and swiftly changed subjects, chuckling humorlessly. "You know, they are all very eager to see how we do in Great Britain, but none of them committed themselves to do anything if we started losing. It was agreed that the attack on Hogwarts would be the last battle to define which side wins control of the British Isles. And even when I told them that Dumbledore was alive and that the old coot would surely appear in the battle with his forces of French allies, not a single Dark Ally offered to do something to send us help from their countries."

He glanced at her, and added crisply, "The only ones who will do something to help us during this war are Armitage and Sebastien. Armitage by planting the cabinet and giving us information about the Ministries' layouts and wards. And Sebastien, as expected, will be informing us about what goes on in France's light wizarding circles – so that we can have some estimate of how many Frenchmen will come to Dumbledore's aid. Sebastien has always worked hard to maintain his façade as a tolerant dark wizard who never dabbles in the Dark Arts and who only feels at home with light individuals, and they adore him. He has social connections with every French wizarding family, and he's certainly our best spy in France."

"Only Valois and Armitage offered to help?" said Calypso, her expression one of miffed vexation. "When will the rest of the Dark Allies directly involve themselves, then?"

"Well, I already told you about Conrad and the other two Americans. They say the time isn't right yet to propose the matter to the Congress of United Wands, so they will wait for one or two years, when we have already taken over several countries," replied Orion dryly. "As for the rest, they will help us from within their countries the moment we attack France. The idea is to form two fronts when we attack the countries where light wizards are the vast majority – Spain, Italy and France."

He paused to shoot her an intense glance, and continued matter-of-factly, "Germany and Russia are dark-oriented and already have many dark wizards in key ministerial positions. So the German Ally, Friederik Geert, and the two Russians, Anatoly Kusakov and Fyodor Bronislav, think they can move the strings in their respective Ministries so that fighters are sent to us when we attack France. On the other hand, we would also be invading the French from Great Britain. So France will find itself invaded by dark forces from the north and the west, and thus, cornered by two fronts."

"The war to conquer France will be the toughest," murmured Calypso with apprehension.

"Yes," said Orion, curtly nodding at her. "I think everything will be defined in that war. Assuming we already won in Great Britain, then we will either lose in France and end up isolated in our Isles. Or we win control over France, after which, conquering Spain and Italy would be much easier, and we would then move up north. In the end, taking over France will be our greatest challenge, one way or the other. It's the Light's main bastion."

Calypso nodded in understanding, her expression one of deep pensiveness. After a stretch of silence, she muttered, "You know, it's clear that for August the first we'll have to thoroughly prepare ourselves, and especially to do drills and simulated battles with the DA…" Her expression turned grave, and she continued sternly, "And I've talked about something with my dad and we both agreed that it would be for the best, so I want you to accept it without any complaints."

"What is it?" said Orion, carefully eyeing her.

"Well," said Calypso, clearing her throat before pinning him with a no-nonsense stare, "you are going to mark the Elite tomorrow night and they already wrote back to me agreeing to stay here during their holidays. I know you're planning on having practice sessions with them and that you also want to prepare the rest of the DA for the battles. But you can't do the latter here. The rest of the DA doesn't know about Potter Manor and they shouldn't either, because it's Draco's hideout and our sanctuary from Voldemort, light wizards and Aurors. It must be kept a secret. So the only other choice is to use Rosier Manor-"

"No," interrupted Orion curtly, scowling at her. "I will not let you do that. You told me your chief house-elf informed you that Aurors went to Rosier Manor with a search warrant, and they raided it, looking for me. So far, even though it's widely known that you're my best friend, you're under no direct suspicion. If we used Rosier Manor for the DA's practice sessions and simulated battles, you know you will have to lockdown the wards around the Manor for our safety, just like Lucius did with Malfoy Manor. And the moment that the Aurors detect that Rosier Manor is no longer plottable or accessible to them, they will suspect that you're helping me out-"

"Yes, but they can do nothing except bring me in for questioning," interjected Calypso pointedly, with a hard edge in her tone. "They can't legally use Veritaserum on me because I'm still underage. And they cannot lock me up without irrefutable proof that I'm aiding you. Without it, given my age, there isn't much that they can do to me; just keep me in one of the Ministry's cells for a couple of days, and that's hardly something that would concern me. So I won't be in any serious danger from them, Orion. And we need a place for the DA's sessions! There's no other choice, and my father and I agreed that it would be for the best."

Orion mutinously crossed his arms over his chest. But seeing Calypso's unrelenting and hard expression, and admitting to himself that she was indeed solving a problem that had bothered him for some time, he finally sighed.

"Fine," he muttered quietly, "we'll do it your way. But-" He shot her a hard glance of his own "- we'll take all the precautions we can. You will be the one contacting the DA, but you'll write to them as if you were inviting friends over for a party, a quidditch match or something of the sort. There are about eighty DA members, so you'll have to pretend that you're having large gatherings in your Manor for your own amusement and such. That way, if any letters are intercepted by the Aurors, they won't have any solid proof to use against you and you'll be giving them an excuse for bringing so many people over to your Manor. Meanwhile, we'll use the usual text messaging charm on the band of our wristwatches to let the DA know the exact date and time for all the training sessions we'll be having at Rosier Manor. And make sure that your dad modifies the wards as required. It will have to be a full lockdown, for the DA's safety and so that no one from the outside can detect what really goes on in the Manor and its grounds."

He paused, and eyed her musingly. "In fact, added to all that, we should cast a Fidelius Charm on your Manor."

"Good idea," breathed out Calypso enthusiastically, perking up as she beamed a satisfied smile. "And we should also cast one on Potter Manor. We can be each other's Secret Keepers."

"Deal," said Orion, broadly grinning at her. "We can do it tomorrow, before the marking ceremony."

"Agreed," piped in Calypso. Abruptly, her expression turned pensive again, and she murmured with a deep frown on her face, "About what we were discussing before… I've been thinking about what you told me regarding France, and…" She pierced him with a hard gaze, and continued resolutely, "And it would be better if we struck at France, Spain and Italy at the same time. If not, Spain and Italy will help France when we invade the country."

"That would be the ideal, obviously," sighed out Orion, carding his fingers through his hair. "But it's a question of numbers, Scaly. I doubt if we will have the necessary amount of fighters to wage a war in three Light countries at the same time, even counting vampire and werewolf forces."

"Then you should get more vampires and werewolves," interjected Calypso firmly. "You were the one with the idea of swift, quick wars to conquer Europe. If you need more forces, then get them. The Zravens aren't the only vampire clan, and there're more Alphas out there than the six with whom you have an alliance."

"It would take me a lot of time to forge the new alliances you're talking about," said Orion shortly. "And I doubt if I could pull it off in time-"

"At least consider it," interrupted Calypso adamantly, piercing him with her large, beautiful black eyes.

"Of course I will, I had already thought about it," snapped Orion impatiently, scowling at her. "And I will seriously think about it again the moment we win the British war, Scaly. I barely have the time to plan this war, and you already want me to think about the rest that will come? One step at a time."

She sighed, and said softly, "You're right. I shouldn't be pressuring you like this."

"You cannot let it get to you, you know?" said Orion quietly, frowning worriedly at her. "This is the second time that you're stressed about the wars, and it does neither you nor me any good, Scaly."

Calypso sharply nodded, but he could still feel the tension coming off her, and he quickly decided to lighten up the mood.

"Enough about war-talk," he said, flashing her with a grin. "Do you want to know what I'll be doing tonight?"

Her head jerked upwards, and she pierced him with narrowed eyes. "You're staying here with me to help me go through all these books!"

"Not a chance," snorted Orion, shooting a wary glance at the aforementioned thick books that piled over every inch of the desk. "You're the bookworm, not I."

"Oh, so now you're not a bookworm?" hissed Calypso indignantly, darkly glaring at him. "You were one at Durmstrang!"

"But we're not at school anymore, are we?" pointed out Orion, impishly grinning at her. "No, no, Scaly, I will not be persuaded, no matter how sweetly you keep asking."

"What will you do then?" bit out Calypso, glowering at him.

"I'm spending the night with Voldemort," said Orion, flashing her a wide, roguish grin. "And we will shag all night long, and have naughty, kinky man sex, and I will tie him up with conjured snakes and -"

"Uck!" she choked out, holding up a hand. "Spare me the details - I rather AK myself than hear it!"

Orion barked out a laugh, and shook his head. "You're such a little prude, Scaly. You're never going to get a man that way."

"I rather be a prude," she said airily, raising her chin up, "than a slut."

"Ouch," said Orion in mock hurt, his green eyes glinting with amusement, "is that supposed to be directed at me?"

Calypso sweetly smiled at him. "You said it, not I."

"Tut-tut, little Scaly," chided Orion with a smile, "you shouldn't be nasty with me, you enjoy it far too much, it's perturbing. Good little pureblood girls aren't supposed to be evil."

"Dark ones, like myself, are," countered Calypso proudly, shooting him a smug smirk. Her expression turned suddenly grave and concerned, and she said quietly, "Honestly, Orion, surely you aren't going to sleep with Voldemort, are you? I mean, he broke your marital bond, you cannot reward that with-"

"I'm looking at things from a philosophical standpoint," said Orion loftily. "I'm a teenager, I need to have sex frequently, and Voldemort is there, willing and ready." He broadly smirked at her. "He's my very own kinky shag buddy. I vastly recommend that you get one for yourself."

Calypso rolled her eyes, and said reprovingly, "You're truly your father's son if you can take things in such a carefree 'I give a pixie's blue arse about the consequences' manner."

"Oh, I do think that I have some Siriusness in me," said Orion, flashing her a wide smile. "And I'm happy to hear that you remember one of my dad's favorite expressions."

"How couldn't I?" she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I learned most of my bad language from you, and you learned it from him. It's practically part of your heritage." She shot him a smirk. "In fact, both of you owe me for all the times my father grounded me for having a 'foul-mouth improper for a young pureblood lady'. He's still quite appalled. He never expected his innocent little girl to turn out like I have."

"Yeah, I corrupted you, but Lez also had a hand in it," said Orion fondly, his voice laced with satisfaction. His green eyes gleamed, and he jibed wistfully, "I still remember the time you caught us in bed-"

"We had to break into the Department of Mysteries and both of you could only think about shagging for the first time!" snapped Calypso highly miffed. "Without me to straighten out your priorities, you would have been a lost cause."

"Maybe," said Orion, grinning at her while he jumped off the desk. "Anyway, I'm off."

"Fine," muttured Calypso, rolling her eyes, "skip along and enjoy your night of wild sex."

"Will do!" said Orion, cheerfully winking at her. "Enjoy your books!"

Calypso's harrumphed 'prat' was the last thing he heard before he apparated away with a last chuckle.


	32. Lily's letter& an elf's unplumbed depths

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

This is a very long chapter, but I must warn you that there isn't much action in it. It's mostly a lot of talking, but the things said are very relevant and it was necessary for me to expand on them at this point. I promise that the next chapter will be much more interesting.

Now, answering some questions from reviewers:

About Voldemort's physical strength and such. As a reviewer pointed out, Voldemort underwent several rituals during his life –this was vaguely mentioned in Black Heir, if I'm not wrong- and he mostly used snake or basilisk blood. That's what Orion suspects, because Voldemort never told him, but Orion thinks this because Voldie's features turned snake-like during the brief period of time in which he ripped a piece of soul from his body to make a horcrux – that happened in BH, as well. Anyway, it's quite clear that Voldemort is physically strong, even stronger than Orion when Orion has already taken Lez's blood. Though, as the reviewer said, we don't see much of this physical strength of Voldemort's, and that's because given his pureblood ideas and prejudices, he sees using physical strength as something beneath him because that's what muggles would do. Instead, he relies on his magic. Though, with Orion, he does get more physical than usual for him. Orion does as well. So, at present, Voldie is stronger than Orion, but not really by that much. But I don't think we'll ever see them having a fist-match; when they fight, they will do it with magic, so physical strength isn't such an important point.

In the previous chapter, with the last paragraph before the first line-break, I was trying to convey that Orion is relying more on Voldemort, perhaps unwittingly. This points towards a closeness between them, especially when it comes to war-planning, since Orion and Voldemort acknowledge each other as intelligent, powerful wizards, unmatched by no one but each other. Despite the mistrusts that remain when it comes to personal matters, and their shared reluctance to openly admit that they care about each other, when it comes to war, they make the perfect pair – regardless of, or perhaps due to, some of their disagreeing points of view; or a little bit of both, I would say. They certainly always challenge each other. So Orion relying more on Voldemort could have both negative and positive consequences. I can certainly believe that Voldemort realizes that Orion now relies on him, Orion seeing him as worthy of it, and Voldemort inwardly likes it and that should sooth his complex self a bit. But on the other hand, given Voldemort's manipulative ways, it could also backfire at Orion.

**I hope you enjoy the chappie!**

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**Chapter 32**

Orion's feet landed on hard asphalt, and he immediately glanced around with alertness while he forced all his dark magic to still quietly inside his core, dimming his magical aura as much as he could.

As usual when he triangulated from Potter Manor, he had apparated into the alley of the Leaky Cauldron. The alley was filled with overflowing trashcans, crammed between the smoke-blackened walls of two old buildings, but there was no one in sight. By the looks of the dark sky, it was way past midnight already, and he could hear the beat of loud music coming from a distance, evidence of muggle London's nightlife at its full swing.

He was about to pluck out the Black heir ring to portkey to Voldemort's side, when he shot the Leaky Cauldron another glance. In all honesty, what he had said to Calypso about having a night of wild sex with Voldemort had been pure rubbish, intended to change subjects and pull out her mind from worried thoughts concerning the war.

Now, as he gazed at the wizarding pub, he thought 'why not?'. It wasn't as if the Aurors would be expecting him to go into the Leaky Cauldron, of all places. And he didn't want to go to Malfoy Manor yet, nor return to Potter Manor, since he now desired to have a brief respite from everything.

He hadn't had any frivolous distractions in such a long time. He hadn't had fun in ages! He wanted to lose himself for a while, clear his mind and thoughts, relax, forget for a bit about all pressures, duties and concerns…

Not think about Calypso's worries and what could possibly be going on with her – she still wouldn't tell him, though he didn't bother asking anymore. Not think about how in a week he was going to see Lezander, and he didn't know how he would be received or if Lez would even remember absolutely everything about his life. Not think about Draco still lying unconscious in a healing coma and about Lucius' words about disownment – it would crush Draco if it came to happen. Not think that, about a week ago, he had killed Gellert, unknowingly ridding from his life the only grandfather he had left and known, or that Vagnarov had died that very same night as well, both leaving a very large, empty hole in his life.

Not think about Arian, the confusion that the light wizard created in his mind, all the things he wanted to know about him, and about what the wizard knew and wouldn't openly say. Not think about the catastrophic consequences of muggles discovering their world. Not even think about the imminent battles and the possible deaths of people he knew. And definitely not think about the pregnancy thing and all the games that Voldemort played and his devious machinations. Ugh! He wished the wizard would somehow stop.

Resolved, Orion flicked his wand, transfiguring his elegant over-robes into a cloak, and he pulled the hood over his head, shrouding his face in shadows. Then he glanced down at himself: there was still a film of darkness glowing all over him, even after he had done everything he could to dim his magical aura.

It wasn't unexpected. Since he had stopped drinking the aura-suppressing potion and after having absorbed Gellert's unique dark magic, he could no longer completely restrain his magical aura. During the week of detoxification, he had practiced as much as he could to be able to restrain his magic and dim his potent aura, but he knew it would always be visible no matter how much he practiced to gain control over it.

Nevertheless, now he was powerful enough to pull a glamour over his body which would shimmer down and veil the glow of his magical aura, to make him look 'normal'. Glamours were difficult and precise charms which required vast amounts of power and concentration to perform and hold for some amount of time, that's why he only resorted to them in very few instances. And at present, he did, and observed how his magical aura seemed to vanish into thin air.

Satisfied, he then hunched his shoulders and made way to the door of the wizarding pub and inn, as a rat scurried past him through the empty boxes and overfilled trash bins that teetered along the filthy alley.

He lowered his head as he stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron, his back hunched, and he slowly dragged his feet towards the bar, mimicking a limp. The ground floor of the Leaky Cauldron, which served as a pub with several adjacent private parlors and one large dinner room, was almost empty.

Tom, the bartender and innkeeper, was cleaning some glasses behind the counter, while an old record of the wizarding rock band 'Weird Sisters' was playing on an old enchanted gramophone at the man's back, filling the place with animated, upbeat music. However, there wasn't much going on in the pub.

A group of mangy-looking wizards were smoking pipes, drinking beers and sharing lewd jokes and wheezy guffaws, while a hag was munching down what looked like raw liver at another table.

Orion approached the bar's counter, feeling highly tempted to ask for Kristakoff's Aged Scotch – Gellert's favorite drink which he had acquired a taste for, after being continuously prodded by the wizard. But ordering such an expensive and exclusive drink would be asking for unwanted attention. So he decided to settle for common beer.

"A pint," he grumbled in a low, coarse voice, flipping a couple of knuts on the counter. "And keep 'em coming."

Tom grasped the coins without even shooting him an uninterested glance, and Orion settled himself in one of the booths at the farthest corner of the pub, a good distance away from the pub's scant patrons.

Soon after, a long thick glass brimming with foamy yellow liquid floated towards him, settling on the table without spilling a drop.

Orion wrapped his fingers around the warm glass, and lifted it up, murmuring with a wry twist of his lips, "To Gellert."

He swooped down a mouth-full, his nose scrunching in distaste when the warm liquid trickled down his throat. And he decided that beer was definitely not his thing. It was actually quite disgusting, but he took another long sip as he settled more comfortably against the back rest.

Raunchy laughter suddenly erupted, and Orion glanced from underneath his hood at the table of scruffy-looking wizards. They were playing some sort of game, with cards that flashed images of nude or scantily dressed witches posing in several lewd positions with things like cauldrons, brooms or telescopes. He saw one of the shabby wizards looking his way and he purposely lifted up his drink in a silent toast, and the man's attention went back to his mates and the card-game.

After his second pint, Orion's green eyes peered at his newly refilled glass with fondness. Really, muggle beer wasn't that bad after all. He was feeling quite comfortable and relaxed, with a warm and cozy sensation floating in his belly, while his mind felt pleasantly sluggish and empty. Though, even if he was utterly unconcerned about being discovered because he knew he could hold his own against any wizard, he felt the sudden wish of being with someone instead of alone.

Indeed, if he could, he rather be having a couple of drinks with his father. Sirius and he had never gotten drunk together, and he knew it would be the type of thing his father would enjoy. Moreover, something like that could help smooth things over with the wizard.

Sirius was still angry about the whole 'attack on the wedding' thing, even though the wizard had learned about his promise to Remus of not killing any young wizards or witches at the wedding. Orion had even gone as far as promising to his father that the entire Weasley family would be spared from serious injury during the attack, but Sirius was still angry at him, feeling hurt that his information had been 'taken advantage of'.

With another sip of his third pint, Orion hazily decided that he definitely had to do something about his father. He was still feeling bitter and resentful about how Sirius continuously preferred light wizards over his own kind, and it brought back unpleasant memories of how the same had happened when he had been Regulus. Yes, he had to do something about it, and an idea slowly unraveled in his mind – he still had the fake locket with Regulus' message.

Actually, he had the fake locket with him at present. Since leaving the cave, he always carried it on him. During the day, before the meeting with Voldemort and the Dark Allies, he had considered the possibility of showing Voldemort the fake locket – Regulus' message most particularly. Why? Probably for his past self's sake, to show Voldemort that even though he had made Regulus his pet and boy-toy, abused him and treated him like trash, ultimately making the Death Eaters punish him so gruesomely, Regulus had still bested him in the end. It was a matter of pride for him, to let Voldemort know that he - Regulus- hadn't died pathetically, that he had done something against him. Obviously, Voldemort already knew that Regulus had found the locket with intentions of destroying it, but the wizard didn't known about the fake locket and the message contained within.

In the end, however tempted he had been, Orion hadn't gone through with it. Why stir the past in such manner? Why confront Voldemort about what he had done to Regulus? Even though the wizard could believe that he was doing it for the sake of an 'uncle' he had never known, it would make the man question his motives. And it would also create disputes between them. That, he couldn't afford. They needed to heal the breach between them for the war, and they were doing pretty well so far.

Nevertheless, he could use the locket to make Sirius understand, even though it would cause his father much pain and grief. With it, he could make Sirius bluntly confront the consequences of his mistaken choices, past and present.

That decided, whilst feeling a bit heady and pleasantly dizzy, Orion pushed away the half-empty glass of his third pint. He was aware by now that he was a bit drunk. And a small frown crinkled his forehead when he caught sight of the same mangy-looking wizard shooting him another glance, this one covert. He fleetingly realized that coming to the Leaky Cauldron when he was in the Auror's Most Wanted List had been an act of rash impulsiveness from his part – something his father would do.

Hmmm. Perhaps he should have gone to wizarding St. Petersburg or Moscow instead. He knew them like the back of his hand, as well as London itself. On the other hand, even though he doubted that Russian Aurors would be on the lookout for him as much as the English were, there were still bounty hunters to think of. He had a price on his head – a rather generous one, if the latest issue of the Daily Prophet was to be believed. The English Ministry of Magic was ready to pay quite a large sum of galleons for his capture, sparing no costs.

When he caught sight that several of the shady wizards were now glancing at him while muttering between themselves, their game forgotten, Orion decided that he wouldn't push his luck. He wasn't overly concerned, he could defeat any wizard, but it was pointless to ask for trouble.

He scuffled to his feet, left a few knuts as tip, and moved towards the door of the pub, making sure that the hood still covered his face. The moment he scrambled out the Leaky Cauldron, a summery breeze slapped his face, making him feel a bit nauseous for a second. Almost swaying, Orion took a deep gulp of chilly night air and instantly felt better, his mind clearing a bit, thankfully not feeling as sluggish as before.

He slowly made his way along the seedy alley, while he pondered where to go next. Abruptly, the clap of footfalls reached his ears and he hurried his steps a bit, knowing that he had been followed but deciding that he shouldn't run or it would be suspicious.

"Oi! You there! Why don't ya show us your face!"

Orion completely ignored them and continued shuffling his way through the alley as steadily as he could manage, while his mind refused to supply him with any answers as to where he should go.

"Got somethin' to hide, mate? Oi, stop, I say!"

When a beam of red light shot past his shoulder, Orion suddenly mused what on earth he was doing. He was scrambling away from a pathetic lot of wizards? Him, who could easily reduce them to dust?!

Swaying a bit, he flicked his right wrist, caught the Death and Life wand that came shooting into his hand, and slowly turned around to face them. As expected, they were the bunch of wizards who had been in the Leaky Cauldron. None of their faces rang a bell but they looked like shady characters, their robes tatty and stained, the five of them looking quite scruffy and dirty. They were no heroes, these ones, but perhaps they were looking for a fight, or for the possibility of earning some galleons if it was their lucky night and they had just discovered a wanted dark wizard.

Orion regarded them with impassivity, putting as much weight as he could on his feet so that he stood firmly in his full height. They had halted a few paces away from him, their wands drawn and aimed forward, their eyes scrunched as if trying to see underneath his hood. And with a small upwards tug of his lips, he decided that he could have some fun as well.

"Who are ya? Answer us!" spat one of the them, the wizard's voice drunkenly slurred. "Bit suspicious, innit, that ya go around wearing a hood? Show us yer mug!"

Feeling a frisson of vicious enjoyment, and without having to concentrate much, Orion instantly called forth a bit of his Necromantic abilities. The moment he knew that his eyes had to be glowing in all blackness, he carelessly pushed down his hood and shot them a nasty smile.

"Merlin's great hairy balls, it's the boy!" croaked out a wizard, looking absolutely terrified while he stumbled several step backwards, loudly crashing into a trash bin.

"Galloping gargoyles!" shakily gasped another man, before quickly turning tail and scrambling away out of the alley.

Another wizard squeaked and dissapparated in the bat of an eyelash, like the other, abandoning the rest of his companions without a second glance. The three others left had all backed away from Orion, looking too terrified to string two thoughts together and get away as far and as fast as they could.

Suddenly, one of them seemed to gather some of his wits back, and he shrieked urgently, "Dung! Alert 'em!"

Dumbly nodding, a grimy-looking squat wizard with straggly ginger hair disapparated with a loud 'crack', while Orion calmly mussed over the nickname 'Dung'.

Ah, yes, he recalled… The one who had just left had to be Mundungus Fletcher. His dad had told him about the man – a thief, and Order member. So 'Dung' was going to alert the Order? Orion scoffed. Fine by him. At least now he knew where he could find Mundungus during a weekend night – downing beers at the Leaky Cauldron. Perhaps that tidbit of information could prove useful in the future.

Shooting the remaining two wizards a feral grin, and deciding that he could play a bit with them, he lazily lifted up a hand, widely spreading his fingers as he started summoning his dark magic, feeling it excitedly pulse inside him.

Abruptly, four wizards suddenly appeared between him and his two preys; two of them apparating in with loud 'cracks', and the other two soundlessly. Mundungus hadn't returned, but he had certainly sent the Order members he had undoubtedly found wherever they had their headquarters. And Orion quirked a surprised eyebrow.

From the two who had apparated noisily, one's face didn't ring a bell, but the other he recognized as Elphias Doge – Gellert had told him about the man. Dumbledore's old childhood friend and Special Advisor to the Wizengamot didn't seem to be much of a threat. And he noticed that the old wizard's eyes were puffy – not long ago, the man had cried, he had been mourning.

Orion sniggered under his breath. So the old coot hadn't revealed to his old mate that he was alive? Figures. His amusement increased when he saw how Doge was staring at him in horror, as if he was seeing Grindelwald himself. Well, the old bugger was right in a sense. Doge surely believed what was being printed in the papers about him being Grindelwald's grandson. And Doge knew about Albus' murky past with Grindelwald.

Nevertheless, it was the soundless 'apparaters' who caught his attention. One was Moody, who had his wand trained straight at him, pinning him with his magical eye, while his scarred face wore a guarded expression but also a twinge of triumph. The other was Arian. And that was the cause for his surprise. In his drunkenness, he had forgotten that Arian was part of the Order now. He hadn't expected the light wizard's presence. Ooops!

He loudly chuckled and merrily winked at his 'nemesis', without feeling remotely fazed. And to his satisfaction, he saw that Arian looked as surprised as he felt. The handsome light wizard had a stunned expression on his face, and Orion doubted that it was due to his Necromancer's eyes. Arian knew about his abilities. No, it had to be because he was evidently drunk. Orion scoffed and rolled his eyes. What, did Arian take him for a prim ponce who didn't touch a drink?

With some effort, Orion finally forced himself to regard the Order seriously, noticing that the two shabby wizards that had been there before had disappeared. Since he hadn't heard any 'cracks', they had probably ran back to the Leaky Cauldron, too wasted to attempt apparition without risking to splinch themselves.

Well, Moody, he could take. Hell, he could take on all of the old wizards, no matter how powerful they could be. But adding Arian to the mix, however, was a matter entirely different. He pouted a scowl at the light wizard. Arian was cutting short his fun – he hadn't had the opportunity do to anything before he arrived!

Yet, no matter how drunk he was, he was coherent enough to know that it was time for him to call it a night and apparate away.

In the next second, the moment he tried to do so, Orion abruptly felt as he was being slammed down by a Giant's foot, and his boots stumbled on the pavement. He couldn't apparate! Someone had cast anti-apparation wards. Ah, yes, Moody was shooting him a nasty little half-smile. It figures that the ex-Auror would have the trained instincts to have cast such ward around the area the moment he arrived.

Orion glanced at them again, and didn't think about it twice.

He turned heel and pelted down the alley as fast as his scrambling feet could take him. He swiftly ducked down as three beams of light flashed over his head, and quickly cast a powerful shield charm over his body. The second he left the alley and took the turn into the muggle street, he transfigured his clothes into a black T-shirt and comfortable jeans, while he settled down his Necromantic magic so that his eyes turned back to normal. With another flick of his wand, he cast at himself a sobering charm, knowing that he needed to gather back his wits.

Instantly, his mind cleared, somewhat, but he still felt that his thought-process was a bit slow and foggy. How many pints had he gulped down?! He grumbled under his breath, knowing that another sobering charm so soon after the previous one would do more harm than good.

Orion momentarily skidded to a halt while he quickly glanced around, then kept rushing along the street, without even needing to glance back to know that the Order was fast on his tracks. Well, he was much faster than them, given that he had Lezander's blood pumping through his veins. He soon caught up with the group of young muggles he had spotted and shuffled in between them, ignoring some of their glances. Most of them were boisterously laughing and playing around, and by the looks of them, they were out for a night of partying.

For the moment, they served as a good shield. The Order wouldn't dare attack him if he was in the midst of some muggles. Nevertheless, the instant the group turned a corner into a new sideway street, he glanced over his shoulder and saw that the four wizards weren't that far behind, with Arian in the lead. The light wizard seemed resolved to get to him before the others.

Swiftly, Orion tried to apparate again, but it didn't work and he muttered under his breath with apprehension. How wide of an area had Moody cast the anti-apparation ward on? If he was feeling a hundred percent sober, he wouldn't think twice before trying to break through the ward, knowing he would succeed. But given his current state, he didn't want to risk splinching himself and losing a limb in the attempt – those took time and much pain to get back, and he didn't feel that his situation was that desperate.

He glanced around the new street he had entered into with the bunch of young muggles, and quickly saw that it was filled with pubs and nightclubs. The moment he caught sight of Arian turning the corner and stepping into the street, he broke off from the muggles and speedily scrambled his way towards the busiest nightclub he spotted.

The entrance of the place had a long line of muggles dressed up in their finest, with two thugs standing like sentries on each side of the flashy metal door, their expressions haughty as they superiorly pointed a finger at the muggles they chose to let in – mostly scantily dressed girls in high heels and a bunch of young men richly dressed, who looked as if they had loads of daddy's pounds to frivolously spend.

Orion was about to covertly flick his wand, and Imperio one of the thugs so that he could be let inside, when somebody slammed against him, an arm tightly wrapping around his waist. Suddenly, his already slightly sluggish mind felt even foggier, and he took in a deep breath of an amazingly delicious scent. He blinked up at the man that was holding him, seeing Arian's calmed features coming into clarity.

At some point the light wizard had transfigured his clothes as well. The young man was wearing some sort of silky silver shirt that looked like the latest muggle fashion, with black trousers and shinny shoes along with it. And he saw that every muggle in the line was staring at Arian enraptured, as if he was some sort of celebrity, several girls not only heavily fluttering their eyelashes at him but also attempting to jump through to get to him. Even more of them, and several men included, were fervently yelling things: asking for Arian's name, promising to give him ridiculously impossible stuff in exchange for his telephone number, vouching to take him to amazing places on a date, declaring that they were some famous person or other, or something along those lines, from what he could make out.

One of the thugs opened the metal door wide open for them, the sturdy muggle's expression slack and almost delirious-looking. And before he could even bat an eyelash, Arian dragged him inside by the clutch he had on his waist, without saying a word.

Orion wasn't that far out to know that the light wizard was laying it on thick with his Veela allure. Merlin, he couldn't even think straight! The only thing he could wrap his mind around was the fact that Moody and the two others had seen them get inside the club. He had gotten a glimpse of them before the thug had closed the metal door behind Arian and him.

They reached a beautiful young woman clothed in a mini skirt and a tiny top, who stood behind a small counter, selling the entrance tickets to the place. But it only took one glance from Arian and she seemed unable to do anything except coquettishly giggle at him with adoring, lustful eyes, waving at them to pass without paying a penny.

And Orion was swiftly pulled into the depths of the club, without being able to beep a word against it. He was dragged along a narrow, dimly lit corridor; its walls covered from floor to ceiling with mirrors which he thought were quite tacky and also pompous given their golden adornments and the dim light from small chandeliers that reflected on their surface. But other than that impression, he couldn't coherently string two thoughts together. Every time he breathed he felt his nose clogging and his brain shutting down with Arian's heavy, mouth-watering scent. Last time, he hadn't felt the Veela allure this strongly – the light wizard was doing it on purpose!

Orion repeatedly shook his head, trying to clear it. But he couldn't think about anything except pushing himself closer to Arian, which he did. Moreover, he felt an irrepressible desire to paw over every inch of the wizard's body, to trail his fingertips along Arian's jaw line, to mesh their lips together and suffocate him with a hungry, deep kiss, to card his fingers through his locks of bronze hair, to grope his arms and arse.

The heady, hypnotizing sensation only dimmed briefly when they reached the main floor of the club after coming to the end of the corridor. Loud music was pumping through the huge dance floor, even making the metal floors shake and vibrate, while masses of bodies danced to it, writhing, swaying, rubbing and undulating against each other. The music pounded so loudly and the beat was so fast that his ears were ringing, but the muggles seemed to love it. Several of them even looked high with some muggle drug or other, their movements either slow as if they were in some sort of spiritual trance or frenzied with fiery energy and lust.

Orion had to scrunch his nose and shield his eyes when clouds of white, misty, cold air were shot over everybody's heads, with flashy lights suddenly lighting up the place with neon green and violet rays. At which the muggles jumped as if they were one, roaring in delight and yelling, as if possessed, while the music got even louder. It was something he was definitely not used to, having his senses assaulted in such a brutal way, and he would thank even the memory of Merlin himself if he came out of the club without being partially blind or deaf.

Arian had pulled him into a corner, besides some small round tables and lounging loveseats, but the place was so packed that muggles were still bumping and undulating against Orion. He felt as if he was being humped by mongrels, and he even felt someone daring to grope his arse, but he hardly paid any attention to it. The moment a straight thought miraculously entered his mind, he tried to apparate for the third time, and he ended up loudly groaning when he didn't succeed.

Finally, he balefully glared up at Arian. He didn't know what the wizard was up to. Why wasn't the wizard handing him over to his Order mates? Why use the Veela allure to get him inside the club and lose the Order amidst the writhing mass of muggles? Why was the wizard, in short, helping him out? It didn't make any sense. Nor did it, the way that Arian was staring at him – hungrily, passionately, as if this was a perfect opportunity for him to do something, but also guardedly, as if the man didn't trust himself or as if he feared his reaction. It was all very perplexing, he decided.

Suddenly, Orion became fleeting aware that he had no need to stand there, turning deaf, with puffs of misty air trying to cut short his respiratory system and with laser beams attempting to blind him. In his intoxicated, foggy and addled mind, he finally slowly realized that even though he couldn't safely apparate away, he could use the Black heir ring to portkey to Voldemort's side. Or he could very well have an all-out duel with Arian, or leave him and find Moody and his mates to dispose of them. He couldn't care less about muggles being injured in the fray or about what they witnessed. The Ministry would surely take care of obliviating and altering their memories as soon as they could.

Yet, Orion stood there, squarely meeting Arian's odd gaze without attempting to leave. And he didn't know if it was due to the Veela allure or his own unrelenting curiosity – which, he knew, had a knack for landing him in sticky situations. It was always his curiosity or his infrequent flares of brash impulsiveness which got him into tight spots.

Scowling, he peered up at Arian again. He was still feeling the Veela allure effects, but he felt much more in control of himself, and it had to be because Arian wanted it to be so. Indeed, the wizard looked as if he was teetering on the edge of speech and probably wanted him to be coherent enough to understand the wizard's words.

While they kept being pushed together by dancing muggles tightly surrounding them, Arian pressed himself even further against him, and with an imperceptible twitch of the wizard's hand, Orion suddenly found that all the noise considerably dimmed - the music, voices and yells becoming muffled.

Orion sighed with relief, his ringing ears certainly feeling grateful for the respite, while he distantly wondered why he hadn't already cast a charm for that purpose himself.

Suddenly, Arian leaned over him, his warm breath tingling on Orion's neck, making him shiver as the wizard whispered into his ear, his voice sounding like a taunting caress, "Once upon a time, there was a very special mirror at Hogwarts, before Albus disposed of it. It was called the Mirror of Erised. Do you know about it, hmmm?"

Orion slightly jerked backwards, staring up at him with befuddlement. The light wizard was gazing at him with a very serious expression on his face, and that only added to his confusion. He was highly disconcerted – not due to the wizard's words, which didn't quite make sense to him, but due to the man's attitude.

Was it him or Arian acted slightly different each time they met? This Arian wasn't like the arrogant, devious one he had met for the first time at Dumbledore's headquarters in muggle Paris – telling him to 'take the garbage out' when referring to Barty Crouch Jr., and being quite ruthless about it. Nor was he like the glorious, winged Veela from their second encounter, egomaniacally spouting religious nonsense while looking utterly self-confident, yet also noble with his desire to peacefully unite the muggle and wizarding worlds, even sounding like an altruistic idealist during some parts.

And now… well, he didn't quite know how to describe the way in which the light wizard was acting at present, but the man's attitude was entirely different than before – there was something very intimate in the way that the wizard was pulling them together while whispering into his ear.

With a slight feeling of apprehension, he realized that Arian not only intrigued him as much as Voldemort always had, but also that the light wizard had many faces. He wouldn't go as far as to say that the wizard had split personalities, but something had certainly made Arian the way he was – someone who acted so differently towards him every time they met.

Was it due to trauma? He knew those things could happen; it could be a reason. And there was still the question of what on earth had occurred on the day that Arian's parents had died. Had Hyperion Valenor lost control of his magic, like Ariana Dumbledore had once done? Or had it been the fourteen-year-old Arian? Or, had Arian killed his father on purpose, perhaps to 'absorb' the man's light magic? Could the wizard be so ruthless? 'Yes', he would say from his first impression of the man, and he would answer 'no' after their other two encounters.

Or was it due to Arian's past lives? He knew that Arian somehow remembered all his past reincarnations, fully. So could it be that such unprecedented phenomenon had deeply affected Arian, causing him to shift between personalities? It could be. Orion shuddered with apprehension and a modicum of dread. Vagnarov had always told him that no one was supposed to remember their past lives for a very good reason – to keep sanity intact, so that one's current identity wouldn't be lost in the myriad of all past others. Was this what had happened to Arian?

Abruptly, he felt the scar on his forehead being gently caressed, and he gazed up at Arian, who was charmingly smiling at him. Yet, there was also a strange flicker of sadness in the wizard's sky blue eyes.

"Ahh, but you know about the Mirror, ne c'est pas?" said Arian, his smile turning dazzlingly angelic, while he gave Orion's scar one last, soft brush with his fingertips. "You saw it through one of your first visions caused by your horcrux-link with Voldemort, during your first year at Durmstrang. You saw a possessed Quirrell attempting to get the Philosopher's Stone from the Mirror, before Albus 'compassionately' killed the wizard - for the wizard's own good, of course." His smile spread, and something sparkled in his eyes, as he said softly, "Do you know where I was when I Saw that happening, hmmm? Come, come, I know that I was being spied on by the Aux Atrum." His lips twitched. "I saw one of them trying to hide from me under some bushes, as if by then I couldn't see through Disillusioning Charms!"

"You were with the Flamels," slurred out Orion, as nonchalantly as he could, while he hazily wondered why they were discussing the issue.

"Oui," said Arian gravely, dropping his hand as he pierced him with intense, cerulean eyes. "I was still a teenager. I knew much back then, but I was still unaware about a couple of things." His expression hardened. "I loved the Flamels, Orion, even though I only spent a few years with them, and even though I knew I lived with them because Albus wanted it so. Because he wanted them to tutor me, mold me, even. Nevertheless, I loved them. Nicolas was like a father to me, and Perenelle…" He sighed, his voice suddenly turning melancholic as he shot him a wry smile, "She was special. But not long after I Saw the incident with the Philosopher's Stone, the Flamels destroyed it and they died, convinced by Albus that it was 'for the best of everyone involved'."

"He has a way of doing that," interjected Orion dryly, already having figured out most of what the light wizard was disclosing, thus feeling a bit impatient and quite uninterested with the current topic.

"Oui, my granduncle is a master manipulator," bit out Arian sharply, something fierce glinting in his eyes. He let out a soft, low chuckle, and his whole demeanor turned to one of deep amusement, as he whispered conspiratorially, "I also Saw Albus gazing into the Mirror of Erised before he used it to conceal the Philosopher's Stone." A wide, dazzling smile stretched on his lips, his eyes glowing with a mocking glint. "Would you like to guess what he saw in the Mirror, hmm?"

Orion blinked at him, fleetingly wondering why the wizard was wasting time by talking about such trivial matters. Who cared!

"Non?" said Arian with a feigned sigh of disappointment, before he shot him a gorgeous grin that had a fair share of nastiness behind it. "My _poor, dear_ granduncle saw himself surrounded by his dead parents, and by my grandmother and namesake -his little sister, Ariana- with Aberforth at one of his sides, finally reconciled with Albus, and… guess who at his other flank? Your grandfather, Gellert, with an arm wrapped around Albus, like a perfect happy couple, reunited at long last." He widely smiled at him, and whispered silkily, "Albus can be such a sentimental old fool sometimes, ne c'est pas?"

Orion snorted, dizzily swayed a bit, and crossed his arms over his chest. "It doesn't surprise me. What's your point? Because surely you're not keeping me here to chat about the sodding Mirror or the old coot's deep secret desires, are you?"

Something intense flashed in Arian's sky blue eyes, and the wizard's expression turned to one he couldn't quite decipher, as the wizard pinned him with his gaze and said softly, "Do you know what I would see in it, hmm? Us, like we were before, millennia ago."

Utterly flummoxed and mystified, Orion blinked at him twice, his mind swarming with heady confusion - and a loud hiccup escaped from his lips.

Millennia ago? He had been told that his soul was an 'old' one by the Dementor Cadmus, but from his one week of experiencing his past lives, the oldest life he remembered was that of Sextus Black, and that life hadn't happened as far back as millennia ago.

He slowly shook his head with puzzlement, dumbly blinked again, and frowned. Though, he had also experienced several brief stretches of past lives from which he didn't know who he had been or at in what century they had happened. Those foggy memories had to have been of lives previous to his one as Sextus Black, since the recollections had been very short, distant and unclear. So who had he been millenia ago? And exactly what had gone on between the Arian and the him of that past life?

He peered up at Arian with a confused frown crinkling his forehead, and saw that the light wizard was watching him like a hawk, studying every blink and every twitch that he made in response.

Abruptly, so suddenly that Orion didn't have the time to know what was happening, Arian tightly cupped the sides of his face and meshed their lips together.

His disconcerted gasp was muffled by the wizard's persistent lips, as the floor under his feet seemed to sweep away, everything in his vision swaying in a whirlwind of colors. Orion felt himself sagging in the wizard's arms as they wrapped around him, pressing them together, while he felt as if all his senses were being assaulted by a deep desire, his mind melting into mush, utterly unable of a having a coherent thought. The heavenly scent wafted all around him, making him nearly frantically deliriously with the need to drink in the wizard. When he felt Arian's warm tongue sliding across his lips, he needily parted them, granting him access without a thought, feeling as if he would die if he didn't feel the wizard's tongue plunging in.

Instantly, Arian's tongue hungrily delved into his mouth, and soon as it happened, Orion felt an explosion of immense, unbearable pain wrecking his body, seeming bent on tearing him apart. His magic and whole magical core seemed to fiercely flare inside him, as if savagely battling against something, and at the same time, attacking him. It felt as brutally painful as when the Unbreakable Vow had clashed with the Life Debt he had owed Dumbledore, and Orion wrenched himself from the wizard as a scream he couldn't suppress tore out from his throat, echoed by someone else's.

Gasping for breath, his throat aching as if burned, with black spots dimming his sight, and feeling tears of pain rolling down one cheek, he blindly crashed backwards into one of the club's small round tables, spilling some muggle's drinks while some glasses tumbled over and shattered on the metal floors.

He heavily panted with pained, labored breath, even his lungs aching, while he bent over to press his palms on his knees to steady his legs and prevent himself from slumping to the floor. Slowly, very slowly, the pain ebbed away, and Orion shot a glare full of loathing at Arian.

Yet, when he saw the light wizard's expression, he realized that the man hadn't done it on purpose, as he had instantly thought. Arian looked to have been in as much pain as he had – the other scream had surely been his- and the wizard's fluctuating emotions were clear to see on his face. There was deep longing, piercing sadness, but also mad rage, intense frustration and an understanding of what had happened and why. Orion, for his part, didn't have a remote clue other than it seemed that their respective magic had clashed against each other. Not fully knowing what had happened only served to anger him even more.

He forced himself to gather every ounce of strength he could muster, and slowly drew up to his full height, darkly glowering at the light wizard, as he hissed out, "What the fuck was that?! Why the hell did you kiss me, and why-"

"They're playing with us, still!" spat Arian, now looking as furious as Orion himself. "We are what They respectively want and They still deny us the…" A look of deep frustration flashed across his chiseled features once again, and he bit out angrily, "I can't even kiss you in this life!" Abruptly, the wizard grasped Orion's face in his hands, searchingly boring his sky blue eyes into Orion's bright emerald ones, and he whispered fervently, "But you will solve it, ne c'est pas? When the time comes for you to decide, you'll remember, you'll understand, and you'll chose me – us."

Orion forcefully jerked away from the wizard's clutch, and snapped sharply as he demandingly glowered at him, "They? Who's 'they'? You can't mean the Spirits – they have nothing to do with you. And what the bloody hell are you babbling about? I'll remember what, exactly?"

"Your first life," said Arian quietly, utterly ignoring Orion's first question, which didn't pass unnoticed by him.

Orion felt at the end of his rope with impatience and unresolved questions, but quickly made himself gather back his cool composure, and he glanced around with a bit of worry. To his relief, it seemed that none of the muggles had noticed what had happened between them. It would have seemed very weird to them, to say the least. But it was evident that his scream and Arian's had been muffled by the loud, pounding music, and the light wizard must have cast a notice-me-not charm at some point, because no one was glancing their way, not even the muggle whose drinks he had spilled.

He gazed back at Arian, and said shortly, "Look, I told you that I wouldn't be remembering more about my past lives. I told you that Vagnarov created a block in my mind-"

"It will matter not," interjected Arian with supreme satisfaction, beaming a dazzling, angelic smile at him. "A soul's first life leaves a permanent imprint in one's personality, no matter how much the person is reshaped thereafter in each subsequent reincarnation. I know this because it was also my first life when we first met, and I remember everything. And so will you, no matter how hard you fight it."

He took a step forward to be inches away from Orion, and intently bore his cerulean eyes into Orion's green ones, as he whispered softly, "I see him in you. Despite all the time that has passed by, you're still him. Most of your personality traits are the same." Something glowed in his eyes, and he chuckled under his breath. "Your temper, your occasional bouts of foul mood and aggressive violence, your ambition, your desire to always excel, to become all that you can be, to accomplish greatness, or at least what it involves in your opinion, your desire to make an indelible change in the world, your fierce need to protect those you love and care about, and even many of your past flaws."

A corner of Arian's lips quirked downward in a faint grimace, and he added dryly, "Your megalomania. And your passion but also lust for many others. You could never be faithful to just one person, ne c'est pas? Not to mention some other addictions. You truly shouldn't drink so much."

"I'm not a drunkard – I hardly ever drink!" spat Orion seething, bristling with indignant anger. "And I'm not a bloody megalomaniac!"

"So you don't deny the rest, hmm?" inquired Arian calmly, evident amusement gleaming in his azure eyes.

Supremely irritated, Orion waved a hand dismissively and fixedly pierced him with narrowed eyes, as he said slowly, trying his best to clearly enunciate, "Are you trying to bamboozle me, or what's your deal, huh? You kissed me knowing what would happen, and I'm still waiting to hear why, exactly, our magic reacted that way - so violently, besides the obvious fact that mine is dark and yours light. I want to know who are 'they'. I highly doubt you're talking about the Spirits, right? And I want to know why you insist about our past lives. Why does it matter so much to you?"

He paused, fully glared at him, and bit out crisply, "And why did you kiss me?! We're enemies, right?"

"Mais oui, of course that I'm your enemy," said Arian, looking startled. "I'm the Vindico Lumen – we have opposing goals."

Orion gritted his teeth, and briskly carded his fingers through his hair. "You're not answering my other questions!"

"Nor will I," retorted Arian impassively, shooting him a wide, unrepentant smile.

Taking in a deep breath to calm down - and knowing that the wizard would never tell him more than what he wanted, when he wanted, and where he wanted- Orion pulled an unfazed expression over his face. He also knew, to his immense frustration, that he couldn't forcefully rip the answers he desired from the man – not from a light wizard who was more powerful than him, at present. Oh, how things would change when he became the VA! He would make Arian pay, that was certain.

"Fine, so you admit we're enemies," groused out Orion, holding unto what Arian seemed disposed to discuss, while he speared him with narrowed eyes. "So why do you go around kissing me? And why do you clearly allow yourself to be affected by the lingering feelings you obviously have for the person I was in my first life, according to you?"

Arian gazed at him with annoyed impatience, and said matter-of-factly, "Because you're him."

"That's in your sodding opinion - and I don't know who you're talking about!" spat Orion, nearly seconds away from yanking his hair with exasperation.

"Do you want me to tell you, hmm?" said Arian softly, his sky blue eyes gleaming.

"No," snapped Orion briskly, glowering at him, before he pulled a neutral expression on his face and tilted his head to a side. "Would you anyway?"

"Non," replied Arian, shooting him a sharp grin. "I rather you discovered it for yourself. You have a very vengeful streak and I wouldn't want you to pin the blame on me, ne c'est pas?"

"Well, fine by me," bit out Orion irritably. He shot him a mocking glance, and sneered scathingly, "So let me get this straight. You have 'feelings' for me because you had feelings for who I was during my first life, which evidently is very important to you. Yet, we're enemies, and you acknowledge it. Then what the hell do you think will happen?" He quizzically gazed at him with narrowed eyes, and demanded crisply, "What are you trying to imply? That if I remember being this person you care so much about, you'll do – what? Join my ranks, see things my way, help me with my goals and relinquish your own?"

Arian erupted with loud, boisterous and rumbling laughter, and after a few moments, he shook his head, and said in a low, seductive voice, while he played with a lock of Orion's hair, "Oh, non, quite the contrary. It will be you who will change your tune when you finally remember. You cared about muggles once, and you will again. Like before, you'll want to create a better world for them." He cocked his head to a side, and murmured softly, "So you see, you'll be the one joining me, aiding me."

"You're barking mad - you're fooling yourself," harshly gritted out Orion, swatting the wizard's pesky fingers from his hair. "There's not a single thing in the world which would make me change my goals."

"Ah, but there's a person for whom you would - me," interjected Arian, beaming a dazzling, gorgeous smile at him. "Hmmm. You'll remember who I was and what we had, and you'll want it back, and you'll know that the only way to get it is to attain by my side what we once desired. It's your views which have drastically changed after centuries of being manipulated, not mine."

Orion stared at him with wide eyes. The wizard was delusional! Merlin's balls, was the man truly unhinged? And what was he babbling on about? Well, the jab at the Spirits was obvious. But he wasn't quite sure if he really wanted to know what the rest was about. He grimaced and shook his head. No, he definitely didn't want to know about his first life or his involvement with whomever Arian had been. There were many reasons why people didn't remember past reincarnations, and he knew it perfectly well. He had suffered the consequences during a whole week and it had been hell.

Moreover, he wasn't any of the people he had been in the past! He had changed a lot from rebirth to rebirth, from what he could recall, and the only thing which matter to him was his current life. Why on earth should he care about the things he had done centuries in the past? He had already coped with the things his past selves had done when he had been forced to experience the memories of those lives. So now he shouldn't care – he didn't!

"Don't believe me, if it scares you," said Arian with a small smile, looking supremely confident and self-assured. "We'll see what choice you make when the time comes, hmm?"

Orion waved a hand dismissively, a stubborn and irked expression on his face. He was no longer remotely satisfied with the conversation, since the wizard refused to talk about the more pertinent questions he had asked, and the current topic was utterly uninteresting as far as he was concerned. He disregarded the whole matter, despite of how much Arian seemed to think that it was important.

He didn't care two straws about their 'first life'! Even if he remembered it, which he was sure he wouldn't, it wouldn't affect him or his views. Please, as if! And he was still feeling a bit sloshed, and now his temples pounded. Oh, for Circe's sake, he hoped he wasn't getting a hangover so soon! Never – he was never drinking that foul yellow thing again. Beer never again! Merlin's knickers, he should have known better – it was what muggles drank!

Suddenly, he caught sight of something which instantly uplifted his mood. He shot Arian a wide, feral smirk, and glanced back at the people he had spotted. It seemed that Moody, Doge and the other fellow had convinced the thugs to let them inside, or most probably, they had covertly shot some spell at them. Given their disheveled looks, the wizards had been shuffling through the mass of undulating bodies, searching for him, during quite some time. To his increasing delight, Moody had not only spotted him and was making a beeline towards them, but the ex-Auror and the other two were also quite a sight to behold.

They were wearing muggle clothes, undoubtedly transfigured, but also very poorly chosen, as was expected from wizards who didn't have the foggiest idea about what any muggle with half a brain wouldn't be caught dead wearing. Indeed, for a moment Orion even felt that he would fondly pat their backs for providing such entertainment. Moody was drawing gawking stares by being clothed in an old woman's frilly purple nightgown adorned in flowery patterns and heavy lace.

By the looks muggles were shooting them, they believed that the ex-Auror and the other two similarly dressed wizards were part of some funky spectacle orchestrated by the club. Some muggles were even expectantly gazing at them, cheeringly clapping their hands, as if anticipating a fun and bizarre drag queen show.

Moody utterly ignored them, evidently uninterested in fathoming the reason for the muggles' peculiar behavior, while the other two wizards shot puzzled glances at the muggles and then at their own nightgowns, clearly not seeing anything wrong with their chosen attires.

"Don't even think about it," whispered a sharp voice into his ear.

Orion blinked up at Arian, and then shot him a large, happy grin. "Why not? They are fair game. And you want to play fairly with me, don't you? So why shouldn't I attack them when they will be attacking me as soon as they can?"

Arian pinned him with a hard gaze. "Firstly, I'm with them and you can hardly expect me to cross my arms and watch how you kill them, hmm? And second, the place is crammed with muggles-"

"Do you think I care about that?" scoffed Orion with a roll of his eyes.

"You used to care about muggles when you were younger, ne c'est pas?" pointed out Arian harshly, his expression uncharacteristically grave and thunderous.

"I grew up," snapped Orion shortly, shooting him a scowl. "I learned what and who was more important. I'll always care about my own kind instead of about bloody muggles. You should as well."

Arian narrowed his azure eyes at him, as he remarked sharply, "You changed because you were manipulated-"

"By whom?" hissed out Orion mordantly, piercing him with narrowed eyes of his own. "Who could have manipulated me when I was a ten-year-old boy? Because that's when I started learning about my kind and their history, and that's when I began forming my views. The Spirits didn't know anything about me before I bought my wand from Gregorovitch and stepped into Durmstrang. So who could have manipulated me, in your opinion?"

The light wizard looked momentarily stalled, the deep frown on his face making it patently clear to Orion that Arian didn't know, but that the wizard stubbornly believed he was right. Abruptly, for a very fleeting moment, Orion saw a strange expression flashing across the wizard's chiseled features: as if a horrifying possibility had entered Arian's mind, leaving him speechless and very shaken, deeply pained even, but which he refused to believe or acknowledge in the following second. The expression was gone so quickly, that Orion didn't know if he had seen and deciphered it correctly, or if he had imagined it all together.

"You must leave - now," said Arian curtly, glancing over his shoulder.

Orion followed his gaze and saw that Moody and the two other wizards were a few feet away from them, their wands' tips already surreptitiously poking out from the long, lacy sleeves of their nightgowns.

Feeling a flare of giddy anticipation, he chuckled under his breath, flashed Arian a wide grin, and said nonchalantly, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm looking forward to a bit of fun and a good duel-"

Abruptly, he clamped shut when that strong, delicious scent wafted around him once more. He felt his mind melting into a puddle of goo, while lust, desire and need stormed through his body. He felt himself peering up at Arian with bright adoring eyes, feeling as he would do anything the wizard ever asked of him. Yes, indeed! Arian wanted him to leave? He would do so immediately! Why had he even hesitated to comply?!

He was moving before he even realized it; his feet taking several steps towards the exit. Seeing what was happening, he slowly realized –as his brain sluggishly caught up with his actions- what Arian was compelling him to do by using his Veela allure. And Orion felt a sudden surge of fury, which seemed to abruptly clear his mind for a moment.

"You bastard!" he spit out enraged, his green eyes flashing irately. "I'll find a way to stop it from affecting me – that, I promise, and you'll bloody pay for using it against me!"

Arian shot him a sweet, angelic smile, oozing warmth and gentleness, though his eyes spoke another matter. They were glimmering with sharp deviousness and content self-satisfaction as he said in a low, smooth voice, "The only way you can form a resistance to it is if you spend many long years by a Veela's side, slowly becoming inured to our allure. Quite a conundrum for you, hmmm?"

Before Orion could bit out a very nasty retort, and tell him where he could stick his conundrum, he felt his mind instantly becoming foggy again. And before he could even blink or attempt to fight it, he abruptly wanted nothing more than to obey the flawlessly gorgeous, breath-taking creature before him.

He was robotically taking another step, when the light wizard suddenly grasped his arm, a pensive expression crossing Arian's face. The wizard's azure eyes flickered towards the three wizards about to reach them, and then gazed back at Orion, who was staring at him with glazed eyes while slightly swaying on his feet.

Arian flashed him with a blinding smile showing his pearly whites, and all Orion could do was ogle without a thought in his mind.

"If you want some answers to your questions, ask that berserk creature about you – about Regulus," whispered Arian into Orion's ear, his clutch on Orion's arm tightening. "And ask your father about Bathilda."

Hazy confusion swam in Orion's mind, and he was only able to blink dumbly before he felt a familiar force wrapping around his body. With a startled gasp, his mind suddenly became clear from its fogginess, free from the allure, in the same second that his body was gripped tightly and pushed into a swirling whirlwind. The last thing he saw was Moody reaching them, lifting his wand, aiming straight at him as something was bellowed, but Orion was gone before even a spark came out from the ex-Auror's wand.

* * *

Groaning, dizzied, and with his mind a mesh of myriad confusion, Orion's feet landed on stone floors before he stumbled and crashed against something which toppled over and loudly echoed in his new surroundings.

He groaned again, clutching his head as he tried to stand up. His skull was fiercely pounding, nausea rolled in his stomach, and he needed to heave in a deep breath before he could scramble to his feet. He didn't feel the Veela allure anymore, but now he felt again the consequences of having drank so many pints. He felt as if he had traded one intoxication for the other.

Yet, he could think more clearly now, and one realization quickly popped into his mind. It was now clear to him just how much he could be deeply affected by Arian's allure – easily falling into the wizard's full control, if Arian wanted it. But the light wizard didn't hold all the cards. Arian was affected by who Orion was – or rather, who he had been. And Orion knew he could use that as a powerful tool. Moreover, he was still going to research into spells to resist a Veela's allure, even if it was only partially – there had to be something!

"Who's there?!" demanded a familiar voice, the guarded shout coming from somewhere high above.

The sound of feet quickly descending stairs resounded in Orion's ears, and he quickly drew out his wand, tensing and forcing himself to become alert, just in the precise moment that the voice spat, "Lumos!"

A flare of bright light momentarily blinded Orion, before his pupils shrank, taking in the sight before him, and he gasped confusedly, "Dad?"

Wearing burgundy boxers, Sirius was standing on a narrow staircase, wand aimed at him, looking sleepily disheveled as he stared at him with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

After a blink of his bluish grey eyes, the wizard instantly tucked his wand in his boxer's waistband and quickly reached his side, as he said hurriedly, "Are you mad, pup? What are you doing here?!"

"I…er…" mumbled Orion, strengthening up as he dizzily glanced around, slowly realizing where he was.

Rows of house-elf heads hanging from a wall, curtains drawn over a portrait, the dark and dim light from old candelabra, the troll foot… He was in the middle of Grimmauld Place's grim entrance hall. How…?

"Are you drunk, son?" said Sirius, a lopsided grin spreading on his face while he hoisted Orion up to his feet.

"I might be a bit sloshed, yeah," grumbled Orion, groaning once more as he rubbed his forehead. "Had a few pints in the Leaky Cauldron."

Sirius let out an amused bark of laughter, heavily patting Orion on his shoulder, which almost made him stumble again on the troll foot that served as an umbrella stand. "Never drink alone, pup!"

"Sobbering charm," muttered Orion beseeshingly, shooting his guffawing father a miffed glance, "and coffee – I think."

"You shouldn't be here," reprimanded Sirius, though the wizard didn't sound too stern or truly concerned, his voice still laced with amusement.

Nevertheless, his father seemed to heed his plea because in the next second a beam of light struck him, and Orion felt all haziness and headache receding from his mind as nausea faded away from his stomach.

He took in a relieved gasp of air while his father steered him into the kitchen, and soon, after a flick of Sirius' wand, there were two steaming mugs of coffee on top of the old kitchen table.

Orion slowly took a seat and clutched one of the mugs, seeing that his father was still regarding him with amusement while also expecting a reason for his impromptu visit – which, by the by, he was trying to unravel himself.

"He forced me into an apparition," breathed out Orion in wonderment, after taking a big gulp of his coffee, slowly feeling his wits fully coming back to him. "Just how powerful is he? Forcing someone into an apparation, and through Moody's anti-apparation wards no less… Though he couldn't have apparated me here if I didn't already control the wards of the house, yet…"

He shook his head, and stared at his father, perplexed. "It was all so surreal… in the muggle club… the weird things he said… the kiss… and then…" He frowned confusedly, and muttered, "And then he sent me here. He said something about asking you and a berserk creature about…"

"Who, pup?" said Sirius frowning, quizzically gazing at him. His lips twitched, and a roguish grin spread on his face. "And you were in a muggle club? I would have given my entire Playwizard collection to see that! Amazing places, aren't they? Next time you should invite me if you're out for a night of fun!"

His grin widened and he conspiratorially winked at him. "And who kissed you, pup? I'm happy to know that this whole marital bond breaking thing hasn't dampened your spirits! And that you're finally taking advantage of being free from Voldem-"

"What?" said Orion, jerking his head up. He frowned and rubbed his temples. "No, you're mistaking things… I wasn't…" Abruptly, he tensed and quickly glanced around. "Hang on, I shouldn't be here. If Aurors are monitoring the place-"

"The wards will alert you if they try to break in to get you," interrupted Sirius nonchalantly, shooting him a beaming smile as he lazily leaned back on his chair.

Orion snapped his head around to pierce him with his gaze, and he demanded quietly, "You never allowed the Order to use this place, right?"

"Of course not!" replied Sirius instantly, looking indignantly offended. "I would never endanger you like that – I know you like this house and it's legally yours, not mine anymore." He let out a bark of laughter and shot him a wide, lopsided grin. "I'm still officially 'dead'. The Ministry still doesn't know how to fix their records to acknowledge a resurrected wizard – I'm the first one in wizarding history!"

He waved a hand, and added cheerfully, "And you know that I don't control the wards of any Black property anymore. Ever since you resurrected me, they don't recognize me. You had to key me in to this house's wards yourself, pup. Remember?"

"Um, yeah," said Orion, with a trace of relief. He took another large sip of coffee, and quickly sobered up further. "I shouldn't stay long, just the same. Everyone knows that you live here and they could be hoping that I would visit you." He shot him a wry smile. "To persuade you to join 'my evil ranks'."

Sirius shook his head with amusement, before a worried and curious expression flickered across his face. "Not that I don't like having you here, pup, but you didn't make much sense before. What happened and who forced you into an apparition?" His gaze trailed over Orion, and his lips quirked upwards, restraining a laughter. "And why are you wearing muggle clothes? It isn't like you to-"

"Oh, right," muttered Orion, grimacing as he looked down at himself.

With a flick of his wand, he transfigured back his clothes into his wizarding attire, and then cancelled the glamour around himself, seeing his magical aura becoming visible once more, blackness unfurling all around him. And he let out a tired sigh: keeping up a glamour for so long was always very draining. Finally, he gazed back at Sirius in silent contemplation, the latest events swirling in his mind as he deeply pondered about them.

"I bumped into Arian tonight," he said at last, frowning as he fixedly stared at his father. "It was my fault, really. I acted impulsively, stupidly – I'm never doing that again." He scowled, angered at himself, before he continued, "To make it short, I took some drinks at the Leaky Cauldron, Mundungus Fletcher saw me and alerted some of the Order, and Moody, Arian and two others appeared. Arian actually helped me to get away, into a muggle club, and then…"

He intently pierced Sirius with his gaze, who looked amusedly proud of his son's mischievous escapade. "And I think he wants me to discover something… about him, perhaps, and definitely about myself as well. Dad, does the name Bathilda Bagshot ring a bell?"

"Bathilda?" mused Sirius with a slight frown, as he calmly took a sip of his coffee, looking, by all means, as if having been awoken by his drunk son in the middle of the night was something that any father would be proud of and cheered by.

Indeed, Orion was half expecting him to pat him on the back and produce a bottle of firewhiskey to share between them. Thankfully, his father seemed to take the question seriously, and Orion nodded, expectantly gazing at him.

He hadn't told anyone, except Calypso, all the details about what Gellert had disclosed to him. Therefore, his father barely knew anything about Gellert's past, only the essentials about the wizard's intimate involvement with Dumbledore. But he had never mentioned to Sirius that Gellert had stayed those summer months, decades ago, with his great-aunt, Bathilda Bagshot. So he didn't quite know why Arian expected Sirius to know anything about the witch.

In turn, he inwardly reviewed in his mind what he knew about the old woman. From the scant things Gellert had told him about Bagshot, he knew that the old witch wasn't a blood relation, but a political one through marriage. She had been married to someone of the Grindelwald line, though he didn't know exactly to whom. 'Great-aunt' could indicate any sort of different degrees of political relation to Gellert.

Furthermore, he knew that the old witch had lived, and still did, in Godric's Hollow. She had been a neighbor of the Dumbledore's, close friends with Albus' mother Kendra, though the witch supposedly had never known the truth about Ariana's 'condition', the circumstances of Kendra's death or of Ariana's herself. Regardless, the witch had known about Gellert's liaison with Albus.

And he could easily deduce that she must have suspected something during the flurry of events that happened after Ariana's death: how Aberforth broke Albus' nose during the funeral – Bagshot must have been present as a close friend of the family, and seen it – and then how Aberforth went to live with a distant aunt of theirs, Aurora Valenor.

Perhaps Bagshot had even known Aurora, perhaps she had even seen the baby that Mrs. Valenor had taken in her custody along with Aberforth. Had Bagshot discovered the existence of Ariana's baby? Was that why Arian had mentioned Bagshot to him? Because the old witch knew about Hyperion Valenor, thus about Arian and his relation to Dumbledore? Did the witch know something about Arian's or his father's past that the light wizard wanted him to discover?

Orion frowned, and slowly rubbed his forehead. Perhaps. Arian had said that asking Sirius about 'Bathilda' would answer some of the questions he had demanded from Arian – though he didn't quite see how. What could Sirius possibly have to do with Bagshot?

On the other hand, what he factually knew about the old witch was that she had been a magical historian – a very famed one, at that. She was the author of 'A History of Magic'; he had seen that book in Hermione's clutches often enough during the year. It wasn't a textbook used at Durmstrang, since it had obviously been written from the Light's point of view. During Durmstrang's class of History of the Dark Arts they always used textbooks authored by dark wizards. Historical 'facts' presented by light and dark historians always greatly differed, no matter how 'objective' historians were supposed to be.

So, it was also clear that even though Bagshot had been married to some Grindelwald, she was a light witch nonetheless. But she must also be a very tolerant and unprejudiced one, since she had welcomed Gellert into her home for his summer holidays, which the wizard had initially intended to spend looking for clues about Ignotus Peverell and the Invisibility Cloak hallow. Though, he knew that Gellert would have never breathed a word about his quest to Bagshot.

"Ah, yes!" suddenly exclaimed Sirius, looking mightily triumphant as he jumped to his feet, as if a recollection had finally struck him. He shot Orion a large grin. "I remember now, pup!"

Startled out of his musings, Orion stared at him with round eyes, before his lips tugged upward with amusement. Only his father could look at ease and utterly comfortable and unabashed whilst standing in the middle of a gloomy kitchen, with coffee mug in hand, wearing only dark red boxers. Why, if there were witches present they would be undoubtedly swooning at Sirius' feet, since if there was something his father was always arrogantly proud of was his good-looks and physique.

"Follow me!" said Sirius excitedly, clearly with the hope that they were about to embark themselves in some thrilling adventure.

Leaving his mug on the table, Orion quickly trailed after his giddily cheerful father, whilst he forced himself to remain alert about any twitch in the wards, lest some Auror suddenly attempt to swoop inside. He was fairly confident about the wards holding up, but he also knew that Aurors had to be surveilling the place from the outside, at the very least. And there was no knowing what could alert them about his presence inside the house.

He swiftly clambered up several stairways and finally entered his father's room. Sirius was already disorderly going through a wardrobe, carelessly flinging out clothes, boxes and other encumbering items in his quest to find and pluck out something from the wardrobe's depths.

In the meantime, Orion inspected the bedroom with fleeting curiosity. It had been ages since the last time he had been there, but nothing appeared to have changed. Sirius' bedroom still looked as that of his teenage years, with old Gryffindor paraphernalia, pictures of muggle motorcycles, a wizarding photograph of the Marauders, posters of muggle women in bikinis, and the sort.

However, there was a moving picture that he had never seen before, pinned in the middle of a vacant spot on the wall: a black-haired baby was zooming in and out of the picture on a tiny broom, roaring with laughter. He blinked and stared at it – it was him. And it was the first photograph he had ever seen of himself being younger than ten.

A hand gently landed on his shoulder, and Orion glanced up at his father, who was widely grinning at him, holding a piece of parchment in his hand.

"That's you in the picture, pup," said Sirius fondly. "I found it a while ago, when I went through my old stuff after you resurrected me. You know how it was. I was feeling a bit disoriented and needed to find an anchor in the past." His grin turned sheepishly self-conscious and slightly abashed. "I was feeling mushy and melancholic as well. But I'm glad I found it."

Orion gazed at him in silence, and Sirius shook his head as he continued, his voice turning grim with self-recrimination, "I cannot believe I didn't remember the picture and the letter after Azkaban. I forgot how many times Lily had written to me! She always sent a lot of letters telling me about you. I thought it was because I was simply your godfather. But it must have been because she didn't want me to miss important stuff. She must have wanted me to know all about you, my son, even though she and James wanted to wait before telling me the truth. As you once told me, they wanted to wait until the war was over. So that you, the son of a Black and a muggleborn, supposedly, could be in no danger of Death Eaters -particularly Bellatrix- wanting to kill you due to how your existence 'tainted' an important dark pureblood line."

Sirius handed him the worn out piece of parchment, and muttered quietly, "For your one year birthday, Lily sent me this letter and the picture. I wanted to be there, but I couldn't. Since Lily and James were already in hiding and couldn't go on Order missions, Dumbledore had me very busy. I missed the moment Lily gave birth to you because I was away from London for Order business as well, but I really regretted missing your first birthday too."

He shot him a faint smile, and poked the picture with a finger. "I sent you that present though – a toy broomstick. I always thought you could have been a great seeker! Even James thought so. Look how you fly, and just a baby!"

Orion mutely nodded, not quite knowing what to say. His father seemed deeply affected by the memories and the moments he had missed. But other than spitting out what he thought about Dumbledore sending his father on Order business precisely during important moments of his childhood, he couldn't think of anything else to say.

He had already shared with his father the suspicions he had of just how much Dumbledore must have known, deduced, or suspected, about Lily's true lineage and his own. Moreover, his thoughts had quickly turned to the piece of parchment, wondering why Sirius had related Bagshot with the letter.

Without wasting any more time, his gaze quickly scanned the contents. The relevant sentences to the matter-at-hand immediately jumped to his eyes: _We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry… Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore. I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually because it seems incredible that Dumbledore – _and there it ended.

Something lodged in his throat, and Orion quickly glanced up at his father, as he said hoarsely, "Where's the second page?"

"I never found it," muttered Sirius darkly. "Kreacher must have disposed of it years ago while 'cleaning'." He shot him a puzzled frown. "Why? I don't see how it could be important-"

"Do you remember what it said?" interrupted Orion swiftly, piercing him with his gaze as he felt increasingly agitated.

Sirius slightly frowned, before his bluish grey eyes widened, and he said excitedly, "Oh, yes, you're right!"

He shook his head, slapping a hand on his forehead and chuckling under his breath, before he continued with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, "Merlin, I had completely forgotten about that as well! Lily wrote about what that old lady had told her regarding Dumbledore's relationship with the psychopath. Merlin's staff, and to think that I didn't remember about the old lady's gossip! Lily believed the old woman, but I never did. And it was true, all this time-"

"So Bagshot really told Lily about Dumbledore's affair with Gellert?" interjected Orion sharply, pinning him with a firm gaze, urgently needing to confirm his grave suspicions.

"Yes," replied Sirius with a bark of laughter, evidently still finding the whole matter very amusing. Suddenly, it seemed as if he had picked up on something, and he shot him a frown, looking annoyed and displeased. "You used to call Lily 'mother' or 'mum', when you referred to her. I wish you still did, pup."

"Er… right," said Orion startled. He shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly, and pressed on, "Fine. So the old witch told mum about-"

"Yes, pup," interrupted Sirius with a flippant roll of his eyes. He frowned, and grumbled darkly, "Not that I like thinking about Dumbledore fiddling with the deranged mass-murderer. I still don't understand how Dumbledore could have done such a thing – it must have been hormones and lust. I still remember that when I was a teenager I couldn't quite control myself either. Poor Dumbledore, he must have been seduced and tricked by wiles, I pity him really -"

"That's rubbish, Dumbledore was no victim in their affair," snapped Orion, angered and deeply stung, "and you'll do well to remember that the 'deranged mass-murderer' was Lily's – mum's father, and thus my very own grandfather. The only one I ever knew. And I cared about him, so I don't like it when you disparage him. He wasn't deranged and he did a lot of things for me, like allowing me to kill him before he was driven to kill me instead!"

He leveled him with a hard gaze and slapped the letter into the wizard's hands. "And you're missing the entire point. Don't you see what it means? What that letter indirectly proves?"

Sirius briefly gazed at him, perplexed, before he stared at the piece of parchment in his hands, his expression one of clueless puzzlement.

Taking a quick, pacing turn about the room, Orion carded his fingers through his hair with great agitation, trying to put his rushing thoughts in order.

"Arian told me to ask you about Bagshot, obviously knowing about this letter," Orion said in his pacing. "And that's the only reference you have about the witch, right?" He spun around to pin his father with a piercing gaze. "There are no other letters mentioning the old witch, that you either have or otherwise remember, correct?"

Sirius quickly nodded, still looking as befuddled as before, and Orion continued sharply, "Then that letter is really what Arian wanted me to see. And he knew what I would think of it, what I would suspect. It's evident!"

His father kept staring at him with obvious confusion, and Orion took in a deep breath, calmed down his brisk strides around the room and quickly reached Sirius' side to stand directly in front of him.

With a sigh, he said quietly, "Father, Bathilda Bagshot was Gellert's great-aunt, a 'very nosy old witch' by his account, and she was a close friend of the Dumbledore's. And she was a historian, to boot. So she knew the Dumbledore and Grindelwald families and perhaps dug into most of their secrets, as would be expected given her profession, and she had a deep knowledge regarding wizarding history. If those aren't the ingredients to find out about Vindico stuff, then I don't know what else could be!"

Orion pinned him with a grave gaze, and added pointedly, "Through old friendships or marriage, she had amazing connections with both the Dumbledores and Grindelwalds. She knew about Albus' relationship with Gellert, she must have suspected something about the weird stuff that happened around Ariana and about the girl's 'ill health'. All of that is logical, but what stands up the most is what that letter points towards."

At Sirius' continued uncomprehending silence, Orion released a sigh, pointed a finger at the piece of parchment in his father's hand, and said crisply, "Even when that letter was written, Bagshot must have been really old, over two hundred years old, and yet, she took the trouble to frequently 'visit' her new neighbors in Godric's Hollow. To see me, to see Lily, to 'gossip' to mum about Albus' and Gellert's relationship. And if that's not telling enough, doesn't it strike you as rather odd that an old witch would tell perfect strangers about that matter? Something that had to shame her, something so intimate regarding people she was related to or had been close to."

His jaw clenched, and he added sharply, "Furthermore, mum and I inherited Gellert's mother's eyes - that's what he told me when he was dying. Do you think Bagshot, who must have known the woman, wouldn't have noticed the similarities, especially in mum's features? The Spirits told me that mum uncannily resembled Antigone Grindelwald in looks, as well."

"You think…" Sirius faltered and stared at him with bafflement. "You think Bagshot knew back then that Lily was Grindelwald's daughter? And that you-"

"I think it's possible she figured it out," interjected Orion, sighing as he carded his fingers through his hair. "I also think that there must be much more she knows about. If it was simply that, it's not relevant enough to pique my interest, is it? I already knew about mum's and my relation to Gellert, and Arian is aware of it. So he wanted to point me towards Bagshot's direction, due to something else."

He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, and added dryly, "He's sneaky that way. Before this, I was merely fleetingly curious about Bagshot because she was Gellert's great-aunt. Now, Arian has truly made me become interested in her and the secrets she must be keeping. He wants me to dig into the matter, as simple as that. So when I have the time, I'll pay her a visit."

"Say the word and I'll go with you, pup," said Sirius staunchly, shooting him a lopsided grin.

"Thanks, Dad," muttered Orion, not really understanding how his father could be so cheerful and carefree about the matter when it had only served to make him feel more irked and frazzled.

He hated that there were still many things he didn't know about. And it extremely irritated him that Arian was making him jump through hoops instead of directly telling him whatever the wizard wanted him to find out about. Which, of course, raised in his mind the second issue the light wizard had mentioned to him.

"The berserk creature," he mumbled, staring at his father without really seeing him. "Ask about Regulus…" He shook his head, and a deep frown spread over his face. "He was referring to Kreacher, of course. But I already know everything regarding Regulus and what happened, and Kreacher didn't have anything to do with any of it…"

"Regulus? What?" said Sirius numbly, his face slightly paling as he stared at him nonplussed.

Orion shot his father a worried glance, which turned assessing in the next second. He knew that Sirius' 'little brother' was a painful and difficult topic for the wizard, yet now he remembered the decision he had taken at the Leaky Cauldron. His hand brushed against a pocket of his robes, feeling the fake locket inside.

Could he really be so ruthless as to force Sirius to confront some of his demons? It would be like shock therapy, and it would be quite merciless on his part, but it would work. And he needed his father to be steadfastly on his side. He needed to tie the wizard more tightly around him, so that Sirius would never again even think about helping the Light side. And he would have to unscrupulously use Sirius' remorse against the wizard.

His jaw clenched with firm determination. Yes, he would it. But first, he had to find out what was the second thing Arian wanted him to find out about.

Orion frowned, and without a second thought, he turned on his heel and made way to the door. "I'm going to Regulus' room. Are you tagging along?"

He didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know that his father was reluctantly following him onto the landing and past the second door that led off it. He could even feel the dread and unease coming off the wizard, as he turned the knob of the door and stepped inside the bedroom.

Sirius hung back, shifting hesitantly on his feet without crossing the threshold, but Orion paid him no mind and calmly sauntered to the middle of the room, glancing around with a proprietor's knowing gaze. This was, by all accounts, his bedroom. Not only because he had been Regulus, but because he had inhabited the room during the couple of weeks in which Grimmauld Place had been his home, before they had moved into Black Manor in wizarding Moscow.

After escaping from the Dursleys and the room becoming his when Sirius appointed it to him, he had never changed much about it - because he had instantly loved it. Knowing what he knew now, the sense of familiarity that the room had always given him was no surprise. Indeed, in Grimmauld Place he had always felt at home, no matter how gloomy it was.

His gaze trailed over the room with fondness: Slytherin colors draping every inch of the place, the Black family crest grandiosely and skillfully painted over the bed with the banner of 'Toujours Pur', a vast collection of ancient and obscure Dark Arts tomes –which he nearly knew word for word- filling the numerous shelves around the room along with several books on wizarding pureblood etiquette, protocol or diplomacy, and several framed wizarding pictures hanging on the walls.

Orion's lips tugged with wry amusement as he glanced at the pictures. In one, a young Regulus was alone, apparently, though he knew that the elbow that peeked from one side of the frame was that of a young Severus, his picture self even then too sour, antisocial and snarky to come out in plain sight. Another picture was that of the Slytherin Quidditch team, with Regulus haughtily sporting his Seeker uniform.

He dryly chuckled under his breath. He had forgotten about that. It seemed that James Potter and his father had been right; he would have made a good Seeker if he had ever found the time to indulge in it.

Orion wistfully sighed. He knew he was an excellent flier – he had honed that ability whenever he had a chance at Durmstrang- yet he had always regretted not having the time for Quidditch. He would have loved to have been the Seeker of the Hydra team at Durmstrang, to have been pitched against Krum before the wizard graduated two years ago. Alas, he had never found the time for Quidditch.

A smug smirk tugged his lips. Nevertheless, he had always beaten Draco in the scant times during their holidays when they had played Quidditch with their friends, a long time ago. And he had always won, regardless of how much Draco had whined about the unfairness of it.

Why Draco had always proclaimed that he won unfairly, he never knew. Perhaps because back then Draco had been a pompous, spoiled, whiny, wheedling little brat that thought that being the older cousin – by a few months, mind you- should be reason enough for Orion to let him win. Being a Malfoy had surely been another incontrovertible reason in Draco's mind, because 'a Malfoy always wins', either due to true skill or because others 'knew their place' and kowtowed to Malfoys.

Orion shook his head with amusement and finally caught sight of a clippings album on top of the desk. He calmly made his way towards it and trailed a finger over the cover. This, he clearly remembered. It had instantly caught his attention the moment he had first gone through Regulus' things during his first night in Grimmauld Place.

The album was filled with yellow newspaper cuttings, making a ragged collage of news, all of them regarding Voldemort and the wizard's so called first rise. Back then, when he had been ten years old, he had devoured the information, but he hadn't realized what the album meant; that Regulus had been infatuated with Voldemort for a long time before becoming a Death Eater, that his obsession had ran deep.

This, of course, he was very much aware of by now. But he nonetheless stepped away from the album with a faint grimace on his face. He didn't like to be reminded of the unsavory similarities between him and his past reincarnation, even if he and Regulus were in essence one and the same.

He glanced over his shoulder at his father, seeing that the wizard was still uneasily shuffling his feet at the threshold, and sighed. Even when he was a kid and Sirius had nightly come into the room to tuck him in bed, the wizard had always stayed as briefly as possible.

Orion impatiently waved at him to come over, and called out as he carefully eyed every inch of the room, "Do you see any change? I don't detect anything. Nothing has been added, moved or removed." He frowned, and muttered, "I wonder what the hell Arian wants me to find."

Dragging his feet, Sirius finally made it to his side, glancing around very quickly and fleetingly, as he grumbled with a scathing snort, "It's the same, only that the foul thing has taken upon itself to constantly clean the room like a possessed maniac."

"It's clean, you're right," said Orion aghast, unblinkingly staring around. "That's peculiar, isn't it? Kreacher never took care of…" He trailed off and a deep, irked frown spread over his forehead, as he muttered under his breath, "I'm going about it the wrong way. I can't expect to suddenly find a mysterious letter or something of the sort. I know this room and the items in it like the back of my hand, and there's nothing of significance here. And Arian did tell me specifically to ask Kreacher, though I can't really see what he can know that I don't already…"

He sighed, conceded defeat, and finally called out, "Kreacher!"

"Why are we here? I don't understand what you're looking for or what's the point of this whole thing," said Sirius gruffly, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "And what does Regulus have to do with anything?"

"I don't know, Dad," said Orion soothingly, trying to make his father relax with the tone of his voice, since the rigid stiffness in the man's shoulders was evident.

The moment the house-elf popped into the room, Sirius rounded on the creature, menacingly aimed his wand at Kreacher, and spat angrily, "You! You supposedly know something about my brother – spill!"

Orion hadn't seen Kreacher in ages, but he looked much the same: tiny, half human-sized, his pale skin hanging off him in folds, white hair sprouting copiously from his bat-like ears, and the creature was still wearing the filthy rag in which he had first met him. And though the contemptuous glare that the house-elf shot his father didn't surprise him at all, what did puzzle him was the way in which the creature was now gazing up at him. There was a flash of something in the house-elf's large eyes: fervent anticipation, feverish hope, even reverence, he would say, and it completely baffled him. He had always gotten along fairly well with the house-elf, but not nearly well enough to incite those emotions in the creature.

"Master," wheezed out Kreacher, bowing low to his knees, "back in my Mistress's old house, at last."

"Um, yes…" Orion cleared his throat, before he carefully eyed the creature and said slowly, "Do you know anything about Regulus that I should know about?"

Kreacher's eyes sparkled with some deep emotion, and he croaked out, "Does Master remember?"

"Remember what?" said Orion bewildered, his heart suddenly thundering in his chest.

"The locket," whimpered out Kreacher, gulping for air as his thin chest rapidly rose and fell, his eyes round as saucers, fixedly staring into Orion's. "Doesn't Master remember, at last? Master's locket, Master Regulus' locket. Kreacher tried, again and again, and failed and failed, but then…" His eyes glimmered tearfully. "Master came back. Master found locket in his old room, as he said he would if he died and came back. And Kreacher let young Master take it! Kreacher didn't fail, not in everything, did he, Master? And Kreacher helped Master in the cave, obeying against his instincts and wishes-"

"This cannot be about the Slytherin locket!" snapped Orion briskly, piercing him with his eyes while a mesh of incoherent thoughts violently swirled in his mind, trying to make sense of the creature's strange words. "I didn't take you… How can you know anything about the cave?! Regulus didn't take you. He took an old house-elf. He took your father, Kreacher. I know this! A week ago I was in the cave and flashes came back-"

He clamped his mouth shut, feeling increasingly frantic, before he barked out, "Regulus made your father drink the potion. Your father was old, he died after he drank it-"

"NOOO!" shrieked Kreacher as he lunged for the poker standing in the grate of the bedroom's fireplace.

Instantly, Orion reacted and launched himself upon the house-elf, swiftly grasping him by the shoulders while he used his other hand to tightly clutch the creature's face, forcing him to look up at him.

"What's- what's all this about, pup?" said a gargled voice.

"Stay out of it!" spat Orion without a thought. He immediately realized the hurtful tone he had used, and briefly glanced at his father over his shoulder, took in a deep breath to calm down, and said quietly, "Sorry, Dad… I'll answer all your questions, but first let me figure out what the bloody hell is going on. I know as much as you do, at present."

Sirius jerkily nodded, looking too disconcerted and shaken to do anything else, and Orion gazed back at Kreacher, relaxing his grip on the house-elf, as he said softly, "Please, tell me about the locket and the cave."

"Master always liked Kreacher, always kind," said Kreacher tremulously, gazing up at him with wide, watery eyes full of adoration. "And Master Regulus said that the Dark Lord required an elf…"

Something lodged in Orion's throat, feeling as if his heart would explode from his ribcage in any moment, as he realized that Kreacher kept using 'Master' and 'Master Regulus' indistinguishably while addressing him. A flare of frenzied alarm surged through him, feeling as if wild, frantic thoughts were crashing all around his mind, but he stiffly nodded at the creature to continue.

"Master volunteered Kreacher," said the house-elf, his breathing coming faster. "It was an honor, and Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to do everything the great Dark Lord ordered Kreacher to do, and then come back. Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave and made Kreacher drink nasty potion, all of it… and Dark Lord dropped locket into the empty basin and filled it with more potion, and then sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island… and the pain, the terrible things Kreacher saw, and the thirst… Kreacher drank from the water of the lake, and dead hands dragged him down…"

"Why don't I remember? Why don't I remember sending you to Voldemort?" inaudibly whispered Orion shakily, feeling as if the floor had been yanked away from his feet. Indeed, even his sight momentarily swayed, before he forced himself to gather back his wits. He pierced the house-elf with his eyes, and murmured, "And you used your elvish magic then, right? To dissaparate from the cave when no wizard could have done it due to the wards Voldemort had cast. But you did it, because I.. because Regulus told you to come back."

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher, fully meeting his gaze.

"And then?" pressed on Orion, his voice tight. "You got back, you must have told Regulus what had happened, and then?"

"Master remembers, yes?" said Kreacher fervently, gazing at him with teary, hopeful large eyes.

"No," murmured Orion quietly, jerkily shaking his head. "I don't. I'm deducing it."

The hopeful glimmer in Kreacher's blood-shot eyes faded, and he rocked on his feet as he wailed with self-hatred, "It's Kreacher fault then, that Master doesn't remember! Kreacher's fault, fault, fault-"

"No, it's not!" said Orion firmly, tightly clutching the house-elf by his tiny, bony shoulders. "You did nothing wrong, I'm sure. But I need to figure out the truth, I don't remember and I should! Something happened! Continue, please."

Kreacher took a deep, tremulous breath, and croaked out, "I came back, I told Master Regulus what happened in the cave, and Master was very worried, very worried…"

"Worried?" demanded Orion confusedly. "Are you sure? Didn't he look triumphant to know about the locket and where it was hidden?"

"No, Master was worried!" wheezed out Kreacher vehemently. "Master told Kreacher to not say anything, to stay hidden, to not leave the house. And then, Master came to find Kreacher in his cupboard, and Master Regulus was strange, disturbed, and asked Kreacher to take him to the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord…"

A tremor violently shook his emaciated, old body, and tears started pouring down his grayish, sunken cheeks. "And Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the other one, and told Kreacher to take it, and when basin was empty, to switch lockets… And Master ordered Kreacher to leave without him, to go home and never tell anyone, and to destroy the locket! And kind Master, good Master Regulus drank all the potion, and Kreacher did as ordered – and watched… as Master was dragged beneath the water… and…"

The house-elf let out a moan, loud sobs issuing agonizingly from him, while he madly rocked back and forth, as he wailed, "And Master died! Because Kreacher wanted but couldn't go against Master's orders! And good Master Regulus died, and it was Kreacher's fault and then Kreacher went back home with locket, and tried again and again to destroy it, but couldn't! And Kreacher failed-"

"But Regulus didn't die that way. Of that, at least, I'm sure!" snapped Orion fiercely. He quickly kneeled down in front of the wailing creature and gently grasped his gaunt, teary face, making Kreacher meet his eyes. "Listen to me. It's obvious you know, and soon I will want to know how. But right now, I want you to say it out loud." He searchingly gazed into the house-elf's blood-shot eyes. "You know that I was Regulus, right?"

"Yes," said Kreacher with a muffled sob.

A strangled sound came from behind him, as if a mouse had been fatally stomped on and crushed to death, and Orion glanced back over his shoulder, startled. His father was as pale as a ghost, not a tint of color on cheeks or lips, the man's gray eyes wide and unseeing, and it seemed as if the wizard had been struck mute, deaf and dumb, though his body was slightly shaking.

Orion shot him a concerned glance, but figured that there wasn't much he could do to help his father cope with realities at present. And unraveling what the heck was going on was a much more pressing matter.

He turned to face Kreacher again, and said softly, "Good. So listen to me carefully. I don't remember these things you've told me about, but…" He deeply frowned and his jaw clenched. "But I didn't die in the cave, Kreacher, so you mustn't blame yourself for that. And it's quite clear to me that I did indeed ask you to destroy the locket… I must have been desperate, I don't know…"

Orion shook his head as he let out a sigh, and continued firmly, "But I shouldn't have asked you to do that. It's obvious that you tried to destroy it during many years. And failing to accomplish it, since you didn't know what it really was and how it could be destroyed, evidently drove you mad. But from now on consider yourself free from that order. I revoke it. And the locket was used and disposed of some time ago, do you understand?"

"Yes, thank you, Master," croaked out Kreacher, gazing at him with wide, watery eyes, gleaming worshipfully.

"Merlin's staff, what a mess," breathed out Orion, tiredly rubbing his forehead as he slowly stood up.

With a deep, dark frown, and his mind rushing with jumbling, disorderly thoughts, he plucked out the fake locket from his robes' pocket, and offered it to the house-elf. "Is this the locket I made you swap for the real one that day?"

Kreacher hesitantly grasped it in his bony, gnarled hands, and closely inspected it, nearly pressing his long nose against it, before he handed it back, and said solemnly, "Yes, Master."

Orion's frown deepened while he pocketed the locket again, but he knew that the house-elf could only, and would only, have answered truthfully. Therefore, he didn't quite know what to make of things and he started pacing the room, briskly carding his fingers through his hair while he attempted to make head and tails from the puzzle before him.

What he remembered, and what Kreacher did, vastly differed. Moreover, just about a week ago, when he had gone into the cave with Dumbledore, he had reexperienced flashes of Regulus' memories regarding the affair. And most importantly, he clearly remembered exactly what Regulus' feelings had been… and those couldn't have been faked, they had been too detailed and intense… but Kreacher had told him that Regulus had been worried when he had found out about the locket, and if he fitted that with the rest, then…

Abruptly, he sucked in a gasp of air as several realizations struck him like lightning bolts, making him falter in his strides.

Nearly stumbling to the floor, he took control over his legs and swiftly swirled around, gazing at Kreacher with wide eyes, as he breathed out, "Merlin's sagging scrotum, I did it on purpose!"

He stared at the house-elf unseeingly, and continued breathlessly, "That has to be it… I underestimated myself - I had underestimated Regulus, just like everyone in his life had! I modified some parts of your memory, and I did the same to myself! To protect you, the family, and also myself, because the moment that the Dark Mark started burning on my arm before I had the time to attempt to destroy the locket, I knew I was going to die – so I acted swiftly, radically!"

Orion quickly reached Kreacher's side, and said adamantly as he fixedly gazed down at him, "You see, I must have erased from my mind any recollection of your part in the affair. I knew Voldemort would try to legilimize me. In the eventuality that I wouldn't be able to completely occlude my memories –which I did end up succeeding in, that I remember- I didn't want him to know that you had helped me. Because I gave you the mission of destroying the locket, knowing that I wouldn't be able to do it myself since I knew I wouldn't survive his punishment. I thought he would kill me and that I wouldn't have any chances of coming back and destroying the locket myself. So in the little time I had between making it out alive from the cave and coming back home, I quickly modified our memories."

His eyes widened and he carded his fingers through his hair, as he added musingly, his voice slightly shaky, "From my memories, it was necessary for me to modify your appearance, to make you look older, just like your father, so that Voldemort wouldn't come to get you. Your father was really old anyway. He died of natural causes shortly, didn't he?"

"Yes," wheezed out Kreacher, staring at him with large eyes.

"Yeah, I remember that," said Orion, sharply nodding at him. "I knew that your father was in his last days, so I must have used it for my benefit! I changed what happened slightly, making it look as if I made my old house-elf drink the potion, instead of myself. So that Voldemort would see the house-elf dying, and thus be assuaged in his concerns that any creature could have remained alive knowing about what I had done and about his locket. But in the end, it wasn't necessary – I remember that Voldemort wasn't able to break through all my mind barriers, no matter how much he tried. Severus had taught me well in the arts of Occlumency."

He shook his head, and pensively regarded Kreacher, as he continued, "And from your memory, the only thing I had to change was the last part – making you believe I had died in the cave, so that you wouldn't go looking for me, since I knew I would die that night anyway. And of course, I had to wipe out from your mind, and also partly from mine, our interaction when I came back home!"

He briefly paused, his eyes became round as saucers, and he breathed out, "I made you forget about having seen me, making you believe I had died in the cave. And to myself, I erased the part where I told you that I would 'come back' in a way – telling you those things that I made you believe I had said in the cave, and not at home."

Orion sucked in a deep breath, jerkily carding his fingers through his hair, as the full truth of his last words unraveled in his mind, something finally clicking into place, at long last. Something which, nevertheless, both immensely deeply perturbed him and puzzled him with wonderment.

He shakily sat down, crossing his legs, and pierced Kreacher with an intense gaze, as he murmured, "Tell me about the strange things I told you - those you remember as if I had disclosed them in the cave." He searchingly bore his eyes into the house-elf's, and added quietly, "You know what I'm referring to. At the very beginning, you said that 'Master' had found the locket in his old room, as he said he would if he died and came back, and that you let 'Master' take it, as Regulus had ordered you to do. But by 'Master' you were talking about the current me, not Regulus, right?"

"Yes, Master," mumbled Kreacher, looking deeply relieved, as if a heavy burden had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders.

The house-elf imitated him, seating himself on the floor as well, crossing his stick-thin knobby legs, and it struck Orion that it had always been like that between them. He clearly remembered being Regulus and much younger than now, seating with Kreacher in the middle of his bedroom as they played chess, while his brother went out gallivanting to visit James Potter and while Walburga didn't spare him a second thought and while his father was always away with business. Yes, it had been with Kreacher with whom he had played as a child, playing wizarding board games, or taking his broom to fly around the backyard, practicing his Seeker skills while the house-elf released the bludgers and snitch for him.

He shot the old house-elf a warm smile, and something snug wrapped around his chest when he saw that Kreacher had obviously realized the same thing, since the creature answered with a little smile of his own – something he had never seen before in his current life, even though it looked more like a twisted grimace. But it was the intention that counted in his opinion, and Orion's smile widened.

"Tell me what I said to you," he prodded gently.

Kreacher vehemently nodded, and wheezed out quietly, "Master Regulus told Kreacher that Kreacher had to destroy the locket, but Master also said that perhaps Kreacher wouldn't be able to do it. But the first was still an order and it had precedence over the latter, Master! So Kreacher really tried!"

"I know, I understand," said Orion softly. "What else did I say, Kreacher?"

"Master Regulus said to Kreacher that he would die but would come back." The house-elf's blood-shot eyes grew large, as he continued with a reverent whisper, "Master said he would die and be reborn, coming back as someone very powerful and that Kreacher would know it was Master because of his powerful dark magic and because he would be the next Black Heir. And if Kreacher had failed in his task to destroy the locket, then Master Regulus told Kreacher that Kreacher had to let Master take the locket when he came back."

Orion choked, and had to close his eyes to fiercely rub them. He had suspected as much after the things Kreacher had said, of course, but it was still hard to swallow, difficult to digest and nearly impossible to come to terms with it, or to remotely fully understand the implications and how it was possible.

He grasped unto what he could make an effort to clearly determine, and eyed the house-elf closely, as he muttered, "So when I was ten years old, you knew I found the locket in Regulus' room and you did nothing to stop me from taking it because you were obeying the orders he had given you. But Kreacher, how could you have possibly known that I was him back then? Even I was unaware of it until a couple of months ago!"

"Kreacher knew because Master was the new Black Heir, just like Master Regulus had said," replied the house-elf stoically. "And Kreacher had more proof when Kreacher saw Master today, after so long." The creature gazed up at him fervently. "Master has become as powerful as Master Regulus said he would be! Kreacher feels it."

Orion wearily sighed, feeling a sharp twinge of disappointment. "So you simply believed what Regulus told you."

"Kreacher believed what he saw. Kreacher believed the grand tapestry of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," declared Kreacher solemnly, staring at him with a hard and stubborn glint in his eyes. "After Master Regulus' death, Kreacher inspected the great tapestry day after day, during many, many years, waiting to see the name of the next Black Heir-"

"Hang on," interrupted Orion sharply, shaking his head. "I know that Regulus died about a month before I was born – the reincarnation was unprecedentedly swift. And Sirius and I have long figured out that my mother must have used the traditional pureblood dark ritual to properly give me my real name, so that I would appear in the Black's family records. My name appeared on the tapestry a few days, weeks at most, after I was born. You didn't have to wait years to see it, but just a month. My dad and I saw my name on it, ourselves."

"Master Sirius," said Kreacher snidely, looking very affronted at not being believed, "saw Master's name on the tapestry because moments before the portrait of the great Arcturus Black had claimed that Master was a proper heir. Master's name wasn't on the tapestry before that. Master was accepted by the house's magic. Master found secret rooms only accessible to those of Black blood. Because of it, Master could go into the library where the portrait of Master's exalted ancestor, Arcturus Black, sensed Master's innate dark magic, sensing the greatness it could grow into if properly developed. Even if Master was Master Sirius' son, the tapestry would have never shown Master's name if Arcturus Black hadn't accepted Master as the Black Heir, because-"

"Because pureblood's tree-lines never include bastard children," interjected Orion stiffly, the realization, though it had just struck him, didn't sting any less. "So it was required for me to be accepted by an ancestor, or the imprint of one like the portrait, for the tapestry to acknowledge me as a Black."

"Yes," said Kreacher with curt solemnity, shooting him a quizzical glance.

Orion sighed and carded his fingers through his hair, as he muttered, "I always thought my name had been there almost since I was born, when Lily used the spell to give me my real name. I hadn't realized that it would have never appeared on the tapestry if I hadn't met Arcturus' portrait and gained his acceptance, though I hardly spoke two words to him that day-"

"Master must realize something very important," interrupted Kreacher sternly, pinning him with his deeply crinkled, aged eyes. "Kreacher's old Mistress's house accepted Master the moment Master stepped inside and welcomed the House's magic. Master didn't feel aversion to the House's dark magic. Master unwittingly accepted it, and he was accepted in return. Then Master explored the house, found the secret rooms warded by Black blood, and read the ancient tomes of Black House's magnificent library. All of it was proof that Master accepted himself as a dark wizard, knowingly or not. Arcturus Black's portrait would have never claimed Master as the Black Heir if Master hadn't done these things."

"But I didn't do anything!" choked out Orion, feeling deeply perturbed and troubled. "I didn't know about these things back then. I thought I was just a muggle boy when I stepped into this house. True, I felt right at home, but it was surely because I had been Regulus Black, so the familiarity was merely a residual feeling from my past life!"

"But in Master's magical core, Master had stronger light magic than dark magic," said the house-elf curtly. "Kreacher, the house, the wards and the portraits, all sensed this. Master's dark magic was very underdeveloped, and still, even though Master was then more light than dark, Master welcomed the dark magic of this revered house. Because of this and the potential of Master's dark magic, Master became the Black Heir then. And Master read, studied hard and constantly trained his innate dark magic, finding pleasure in it, and thus, Master's dark magic quickly soared and grew in the weeks Master was here, as it had the potential do to."

Orion's head jerked, but he quickly nodded at the creature in the next second, silently expressing that he considered the matter closed. He understood, there wasn't much more that Kreacher could tell him about the issue, and most importantly, the subject had left him very shaken since it had strung a deep cord of suspicions inside him. And the suspicions hadn't been his own, initially.

Now he could only think about Gellert's paranoia regarding that someone must have meddled with him because it wasn't logical, in the wizard's opinion, that a ten-year-old boy would have so easily embraced dark magical kind when, for starters, a Dark Lord had killed his mother. Or that it had been unnatural of him to have studied the Dark Arts so fervently, or to have staunchly supported the views of dark wizarding kind no matter how much he had read to form his own opinions – even this, Gellert had claimed that it wasn't normal in a ten-year-old boy who had been raised as a muggle.

And now… and now Kreacher had told him that he had welcomed the house's dark magic, and unwittingly done all of those other things without a second thought. It sounded to him that he had acted as if affected by something, as if something had spurred him on.

Moreover, he realized that Gellert wasn't the only one to have raised the issue. Merely an hour ago, hadn't Arian implied something similar about being manipulated? And when he had sharply told the light wizard that it could have only happened when he was young, hadn't he seen a mesh of very strange expressions crossing Arian's features? Yes. Now he was certain that he hadn't imagined it and that he had interpreted it correctly. A possibility had entered Arian's mind, something that could perhaps explain the matter, and the light wizard had been very shaken and horrified by it.

Needless to say that all these things left Orion with a very bad taste in his mouth.

And now he knew exactly what Arian had wanted him to discover. Oh, no, it wasn't Kreacher's part in the cave-and-locket affair, or the truly Slytherin way in which Regulus had covered all his bases, or what had happened when he had first stepped inside Grimmauld Place. No, what Arian had wanted him to know was that Regulus had known he would be reborn into the next Black Heir, and what that meant. And all the implications of it threatened to boggle his mind into a state of utter chaotic frenzy.

Nevertheless, Orion took a deep gulp of air, forced all those thoughts away, for the time being, and managed to make himself calm down.

"Thanks for your help, Kreacher," he said warmly. "You can go back to your cot now."

The house-elf slowly rose to his feet, old bones cracking, and gave him a low bow, wheezing "Master" before popping away.

Tiredly sighing, Orion finally glanced around, looking for his father. He felt a twinge of concern when he caught sight of the wizard. At some point, Sirius had plopped down on Regulus' bed, and the man nearly looked to be in a catatonic state. Sirius' shoulders were hunched over, his frame slightly shaking, his gray eyes wide with a haunted look in them, his face gaunt and pale, and his breathing was shallow.

Orion's worry increased and he slowly crawled until he was in front of the man, and he sat on his haunches, eyeing him closely.

"Dad?" he said quietly, hesitantly placing a hand on the man's knee and gently shaking it. "Did you-"

"I heard it all," croaked out Sirius, his gaze suddenly snapping to Orion's face. His shoulders shook, and he took in a deep, shaky breath, and murmured, "Snape… that's what Snape realized today during the meeting, wasn't it? That you…" He thickly swallowed, and his gray eyes roved over Orion's face, as he whispered, "That you were Regulus?"

Orion stared up at him in surprise, and his expression must have been obvious because Sirius let out a hollow, humorless bark of laughter. "I'm not as dim-witted as I look, pup! I can put two and two together."

"Sorry," said Orion sheepishly. Then he squarely met his gaze, and said curtly, "Yes, father, I was Regulus."

Sirius jerkily shook his head, before he moaned and bowed his head, clutching it in his hands. "I don't understand… I don't understand anything… how can you be… why did Kreacher… Regulus? Why? And how can you-"

"I was Regulus," said Orion, gently grabbing the man's wrists and firmly pulling the wizard's hands away from his face, making Sirius look at him. "It seems that Kreacher suspected all along and had been waiting for a sign indicating that I knew as well. I think that when he saw me today, after so long, and after sensing how powerful I am now that I have Gellert's magic within me, Kreacher saw this as a sign. A further indication must have been when I asked him about Regulus, or at least it prodded Kreacher into trying to determine if I knew that I had been Regulus."

"But how can you know?" said Sirius hoarsely, his voice tight. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"Honestly? Before tonight I had no plans of ever letting you know that I had been Regulus," replied Orion coolly, shrugging his shoulders. "And I wasn't aware of it for a very long time. It was after I resurrected you that I found out about it."

"I don't understand," bemoaned Sirius, repeatedly shaking his head.

Orion sighed, and rubbed his forehead. "You don't remember anything about how I confronted the Dementor, but it happened then, Dad. That Dementor had been Cadmus Peverell. It was Cadmus who Kissed you the second time you were locked in Azkaban, and he targeted you specifically because he hated all Blacks. His reasons for this were many: because he had an unwanted son with the pureblood witch he had been forced to marry, who had been a Black; because this wife of his, Ursula Black, poisoned the woman he loved and repeatedly resurrected, but failed, because Eloise was never happy when he brought her back; and ultimately, because when his son grew up and went looking for him, with the hope of finding and getting to know his father, their reunion didn't go well."

He fixedly stared at the wizard, and continued calmly, "Cadmus couldn't have cared less about his son, and by then he was way into becoming a Dementor. His son, on the other hand, after having his hopes crushed and seeing that he was hated and despised by his father, ended up stealing the Resurrection Stone from him. Thus, Cadmus was left with no means to keep attempting to bring Eloise back to life. Not that it would have made much difference. From what I faintly remember, Cadmus was truly insane by then, not even human anymore."

Orion shot him a wry smile, and added dryly, "You see, I was Sextus Black – Cadmus' son. So when I confronted him to free your soul and resurrect you, Cadmus took his revenge. I had summoned Eloise's spirit, made her remember, and used her to make Cadmus go into the Necromancer's Gate and thus truly die. My plan worked, but Cadmus didn't cross the Gate before taking his revenge and unlocking something within me. Due to it, I started having flashes of my previous lives. This happened during a whole week after the confrontation, but it also happened during it, because Cadmus forced me to specifically reexperience some of the worst memories of my past lives - that's when I discovered that I had been Regulus Black. And during the week after, I knew I had been many others as well."

"Others?" croaked Sirius, still with a lost and haunted expression on his face.

Orion waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, but I don't want to discuss that." His jaw clenched, and he muttered crisply, "There's something going on with my rebirths, the Spirits definitely have everything to do with it, and now I know that Regulus knew a lot but he ended up using it for his benefit." He shot Sirius a bright smile. "I was a Slytherin through and through, Dad. No matter what promises the Spirits made to Regulus, he didn't become their puppet, as they must have hoped."

He sat up straight on his haunches, grasped Sirius' knees, and continued excitedly, "It struck me when I was talking to Kreacher, Dad. That Regulus ended up erasing from his mind many important things. Do you know what was the last thing Regulus said to Voldemort? 'Death is only the beginning'. That was Vagnarov's favorite phrase – a Necromancer's phrase. Because of it, because I remembered saying it, I discovered that Vagnarov had met Regulus, and I made him tell me about it."

Orion paused, and continued slowly, as he ordered his convoluted thoughts, "Vagnarov told me how the Spirits had asked him to seek out Regulus. For that purpose, Vagnarov went to a SlugClub reunion party and there, he invited Regulus back to Durmstrang."

He shook his head, and muttered, "Vagnarov couldn't tell me what happened during Regulus' meeting with the Spirits, because he was excluded from it. But I know that the Spirits told Regulus something about Voldemort's horcruxes, because I remember how I started researching about them. And then how I went through Voldemort's stuff in his study, looking for something. And I found the diary, knowing what it was. Voldemort gave the diary to Lucius only after Regulus 'betrayed' him. So when Kreacher told Regulus about going to a cave with Voldemort and about a locket, I must have realized that the locket was just like the diary."

He shook his head once more, and fixedly stared up at his father, who was mutedly gazing back at him. He couldn't tell if his father was following him, but Sirius did seem to be listening to him intently. Though, he couldn't quite decipher the expression on the wizard's face – there was anger, alarm, dread, denial, and a whole bunch of other emotions he couldn't figure out.

Orion shot him a grin, and said animatedly, "But the point is – what I realized while talking to Kreacher- was that even though I remember everything about Regulus' life, I don't have any memories regarding his meeting with the Spirits! I never realized this before now! So it's clear that before answering Voldemort's last summon, Regulus must have also wiped that recollection from his mind. I thought about everything! And it's obvious, isn't it, what happened?" His eyes widened, and he continued excitedly, "I suspected some of it, but now Kreacher gave me all the proof I required. And it's what Arian wanted me to realize!"

He shook his father's knees, and rushed out eagerly, "Not only did the Spirits must have told Regulus all about the VA matter, promising Regulus that he would be reborn into a VA candidate if he died, and also telling him about the horcruxes in the hope that he would find some and destroy them – because they were no longer interested in Voldemort, because they didn't consider him to be fit to be a VA candidate- but also, they told him, specifically, that he would be reborn into the next Black Heir! They must have, because now we know that Regulus promised this to Kreacher!"

He jumped to his feet, almost bouncing in his excitement. "Do you see what it means? That against all odds, against all Necromantic theories, against all laws of magic and soul, the Spirits found a way to control reincarnations! They found a way to control my rebirths! Of course, when telling Regulus he would come back as the next Black Heir, they were referring to the offspring of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy – because they have always planned that union, because it would have joined again the Peverell lines."

Orion shot Sirius a wide smirk. "Because they never suspected that mum would unwittingly break through the compulsion that Slughorn had cast on her. The Spirits never expected that Lily Evans wouldn't be carrying James Potter's son, but yours. But her love for both of you did it – in the end, I ended up being both a Potter and a Black, and of course, a Grindelwald. So I am the Black Heir they wanted, just that I was created in a more convoluted and indirect way, and much sooner – thanks to mum."

He gleefully chuckled under his breath, and excitedly paced around the room, as he continued loudly voicing everything he had realized, "And the crux of the matter is that there is indeed a specific pattern in my soul's reincarnations! And the Spirits partially control it. They cannot decide precisely into whom my soul will be reborn, because if so, Regulus' soul wouldn't have been reborn in me. Given that when I was born they simply thought I was James Potter's son, they would have waited for the birth of Harry Potter's son with Draco Malfoy since they would have worked to bring that union about. So it's clear that even though they can't completely direct my soul's rebirths, they did something to make sure that my soul would follow the Peverell bloodlines, only reincarnating along those lines!"

Orion swirled around to pierce his father with his eyes. "Do you understand how momentous this discovery is - that there's a blood-pattern in my soul's rebirths? It goes against every Necromantic precept and notion! And I always thought that the VA matter was all about the bloodlines, but it isn't! It's also about my soul and my reincarnations - and that's exactly what Arian wanted me to realize! That's why he keeps mentioning my past lives, that's why he insists so much about it. I will become the VA because I'm thrice blooded with the Peverell lines, but it must also be due to my soul!"

He slightly frowned, and glanced down at Sirius as he said quietly, "And there's something else. Regulus told Kreacher that he would come back as the next Black Heir and Kreacher has waited all these years for me to remember that I was Regulus. So Regulus must have told Kreacher that after being reborn he would indeed remember his past life, at some point. Why? Why was Regulus so sure about that? What Cadmus did to me was utterly unexpected and unprecedented – even Vagnarov was baffled by it. And Cadmus did it out of his own volition, for revenge – the Spirits had nothing to do with it, and they would have prevented it if they could or had known about it. Yet, Regulus expected to remember his past life after being reincarnated, and there was no way he could have known about what a Dementor would do to me."

Orion's frown deepened, and he muttered under his breath, "Regulus must have discovered something, then. Arian is also waiting for me to remember everything about my past lives, especially my first. So there must be something about the whole VA matter that would make me remember, and Regulus discovered this. Though, it hasn't happened yet."

He rubbed his forehead, and snapped with annoyance, "Bloody hell, whatever it is, Regulus discovered it and was certain that it would happen, but he erased this knowledge from his memories as well, before going to Voldemort. I wish I hadn't been so thorough!"

Orion sighed, but he ended up shelving those thoughts to a corner of his mind, for later perusal. There was something much more pressing which caught his attention.

He crossed his arms over his chest, shot Sirius a victorious smirk, and asked rhetorically, "And I ask you, why are the Spirits so reluctant about me meeting the Kraljica Mati? Why do they dread it so much? Because she must know what the Spirits have done regarding my reincarnations, because she must be willing to tell me about it! It must be that. And I'll tell you something else, I'm not waiting another week to see her. Oh, no, I'm going tomorrow! And I'll get to the bottom of things!"

"Right," said Sirius stiffly, rising to his feet.

Startled, Orion glanced at him. During his rant, he had almost forgotten that his father had a voice, since the man had been so strangely quiet through all of it.

"You remember all about Regulus' life," said Sirius with a thunderous expression on his face, piercing him with his grey eyes. "About how he died, as well, from what I heard." His voice grew louder, and he spat angrily, "And you still support Voldemort after knowing?! Surely you know what was done to Regulus! How can you, pup?! How can you support that-"

"This is what you ask, after everything I've revealed to you?" interrupted Orion with disbelief, staring at him, his jaw agape.

"It's what matters to me! And what should matter to you!" barked out Sirius fiercely, wildly waving a hand. "I barely understood a thing from what you babbled about. Souls, reincarnations, Necromantic thingies, bloodlines and plots, wiping memories, and rebirth patterns and whatnots? It's way over my head, pup! And I don't give a pixie's arse about all that toss. I'm asking if you know what they did to Reg-"

"Of course I do!" snapped Orion with irritation. "Don't you get it? I was him and I reexperienced his memories." He frowned, quizzically eyed the wizard, and said crisply, "How do YOU know? You told me that you learned about Regulus' death from the Daily Prophet. But his body was never found, Voldemort must have cleanly disposed of it, and I very much doubt that anyone who wasn't a Death Eater ever found out about what happened to him."

"Do you think that when I became a Death Eater to protect you and your identity as Harry Potter, that they didn't taunt me with what they had done to Regulus?!" yelled Sirius madly, stepping in front of Orion and tightly clutching his shoulders, brusquely shaking him. "Do you think they didn't rub it in my face? That they didn't mockingly jeer about how many times they had fucked Regulus, about how he had screamed, about how they had enjoyed brutally raping my little brother?! Do you think they didn't tell me over and over again? Or about what Voldemort did to Regulus?! That Regulus was his pet, his fuck-toy, constantly used and abused, and that he loved it and asked for more-"

"That's a lie!" spat Orion furiously, forcefully wrenching free from his father's grasp. "I didn't – Regulus didn't like being treated as a pet, and he didn't put up with it, either. He didn't love it!" His jaw clenched, and he added acerbically, "But yes, he was raped as punishment because Voldemort detected that Regulus had gone through his things and found the diary, and thus that Regulus had found out about his horcruxes. And when Voldemort confronted him about it, Regulus didn't deny it. He knew it was fruitless, he knew he would be killed."

He took a step forward and jabbed a finger into his father's chest, as he hissed out, "But I never screamed – not even once. How little you knew your own brother if you believed all the taunting rubbish the Death Eaters told you."

"BUT YOU STILL SUPPORT THAT PSYCHOTIC MADMAN!" roared Sirius, savagely raking his fingers through his hair in his anger, looking quite deranged. "How can you after-"

"After what, exactly?" bit out Orion impatiently. "You must have an inkling about what Regulus felt for Voldemort. Even when he decided to turn against him, to seek out the horcruxes, that didn't change. He wanted to use them to have control over Voldemort, to make him his! And you know how I feel about Voldemort as well. What happened between them then is easy to understand and I don't begrudge it anymore, not after what I discovered today. Voldemort dealt out punishment, Regulus expected nothing else, and I took it, without a single scream, and in the end, I knew I had won nonetheless!"

He folded his arms over his chest, and said sharply, "What's more, today I saw some of my rapists. Dolohov, Mulciber, Nott and Yaxley, in particular, had taken great pleasure in it, surely because I was young, unobtainable, handsome, and Voldemort's. And you know what I feel when I see them? Absolutely nothing. Because they meant nothing to me when I was Regulus and they mean nothing to me now. They are merely wizards that Voldemort and I are using for our plans, for the war. They're just pawns."

Sirius violently shook his head, his hands balling into fists, shaking, looking at the end of his rope, as if he had many things he wanted to scream to make his son understand. "But he killed Regulus... er, you… and-"

Orion let out an amused bark of laughter, and scoffed. "Is that what they told you?" He leveled Sirius with a hard gaze, and said coolly, "No. I killed myself. Voldemort didn't have the chance, if that was indeed what he had planned to do, which I'm not really sure about."

He shook his head, and snapped impatiently, "But don't you understand how complete Regulus' revenge was? How utterly Slytherin? How he planned it so thoroughly and slyly? Even when he didn't remember about VA matters when he died, or about all the stuff he had also erased from his mind, he knew he was winning! I felt victorious when I plunged the shard of glass into my throat, because I knew I would come back, greater and more powerful than ever before - more powerful than Voldemort, Dad! That is my revenge - Regulus' thoroughly brilliant revenge, don't you see?"

"That's no victory!" roared Sirius furiously. "Voldemort tortured Regulus, ordered his minions to rape him, one after the other, and you still think that you won something?! How can you still be on their side? How can you even work along with them?!" His eyes turned unseeing, and he growled under his breath, "And Snivellus was there when they tortured Regulus, wasn't he? That's how he knew, that's what the greasy slimy bastard was muttering about. I'LL KILL HIM! I'll tear him limb from limb-"

Orion took in a deep breath to garner patience. It was like talking to a brick wall. The most important points seemed to go into one of the wizard's ears and come out the other, without being processed by the man's brain.

It seemed that his father was unable to grasp, or even attempt to understand such a Slytherin plot for revenge. And not for the first time, he damned his father's Gryffindorish mind. Any dark wizard worth his salt would utterly understand and reverently applaud the brilliance of what Regulus had done. But he knew it was pointless to keep trying to make Sirius understand it - the man was still such a Gryffindor. What wasn't plainly visible, and all subtleties, completely eluded the wizard.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" he finally snapped angrily, cutting short his father's vitriolic rant. "Severus was the only one who helped me! He was the one who conjured the shard of glass for me. You should be kissing his boots!" He frowned, pinned Sirius with his eyes, and added with relish in a soft, silky murmur, "And Lucius helped me as well, in his way. He made me feel pleasure when he fucked me - it was his parting gift. I'm beginning to think, given also what Snape said to me earlier today, that Lucius must have truly loved Regulus."

Sirius blanched, clamping his mouth shut, looking as if he had swallowed something the wrong way, and Orion eyed him with vicious satisfaction.

"Something is very wrong," muttered Sirius, repeatedly shaking his head. "It's not possible that you can support them… it's not possible after everything Voldemort did to him - you…" He gazed at him with wide eyes, seemingly searching for something in his face, and breathed out, "You looked very troubled when that foul creature rambled about the house and the tapestry and you accepting stuff… why?"

"Well, now I don't really have to ask if you understood a word about what he said, do I?" said Orion with a roll of his eyes. "You clearly didn't pay attention, or thought it didn't matter." He narrowed his eyes at him, and added curtly, "I was troubled because what Kreacher said made think about one of Gellert's suspicions. That I had been affected by something-"

"I KNEW IT!" cried out Sirius frenziedly, almost jumping in the air.

Bewildered, Orion stared at him with round eyes. "You knew what?"

In the bat of an eyelash, Sirius grasped Orion's shoulders, intensely boring his eyes into his, and said frantically, "Don't you see, pup? You're not yourself! It explains everything – you have been brainwashed by that horcrux thingy! That Tom portrait thing in the locket did it! You're maybe even possessed!" He clasped Orion's face in his hands, and added fervently, "Don't worry, pup! I will help you, we will find a way to destroy it's lingering influence on you!"

Utterly flabbergasted, Orion gaped at the man, before loud chuckles erupted from his throat. "Dad, I opened the locket the night before I went to Durmstrang, not earlier! And I found it in Regulus' room the day after we discovered I was your son. It could not have anything to do with what Kreacher said in the end or with Gellert's suspicions! You're grasping at straws."

He shook his head with amusement, and continued soothingly, "Tom didn't brainwash me, father. True, the ideas he shared with me did of course influence my own. He helped me realize a lot of stuff, he helped me understand dark wizarding kind better, and also Voldemort. But I hardly think that's cause for concern." He sniggered under his breath, gazing amusedly at the wizard. "I'm not possessed, father. I'm simply dark and support my own kind – just what you find so hard to do yourself."

"Pup, the locket must have been full of insidious dark magic!" cried out Sirius, clearly not having heard a word of what Orion had said.

The wizard was wildly gesturing with his hands, evidently getting more wind under his sails with each passing second, as if he had finally been given the chance to passionately state his innermost, long-held, crucial suspicions about the evil forces that must have taken hold of his son, for years, under his very nose!

"It forced you to keep it a secret from me, pup – you didn't tell me about the locket during all those years you had it!" continued Sirius frenziedly. "That Tom was Voldemort, that portrait in the locket whispered to you for years - Merlin knows what!- making you believe he was your friend while it spread it's vile dark magic over your mind, corrupting it, spreading it's claws all over you, to turn you dark!"

"I would hardly say that Tom 'whispered'," piped in Orion with a fond chuckle. "He drawled, snapped, and yelled at me, and thoroughly annoyed me on purpose. Well, I concede that he was also very charming and seductive when he wanted to be." He sighed wistfully. "I sometimes wish that Voldemort hadn't merged back with him. Tom didn't mind telling me he cared about me – though the sly bastard probably spouted words of love because it suited his purposes." He grimaced, and muttered under his breath, "And I did because I was a child and didn't know better."

Sirius' gray eyes grew large, and he stated with fierce and firm determination, "You must fight it, pup! Clear your mind and all that stuff that they say about Occlumency – it could help. Try it, try it! You must regain back control of yourself! Push against that malignant magic that must be in you - drive it away!" He paused, and then gasped as if the most perfect solution had suddenly struck him. "Merlin, we'll get Remus' help – he'll know what to do!"

In a flash, Orion immediately grasped the wizard's arm before the man made any attempt to contact poor Remus, and he said soothingly, "Nothing is wrong with me, Dad. I'm not possessed or otherwise influenced by anything." He rolled his eyes, and added gently, "The only thing in me is Voldemort's piece of soul, nothing more. It must be very weak and small, because I'm a horcrux by accident. So I don't think it can influence me - and if anything, I think I would have noticed, father."

Sirius gazed at him beseechingly. "Pup, we must seek help-"

"I am myself!" snapped Orion with irritated impatience. He leveled the wizard with a hard gaze, and added sharply, "Really, Dad, think about the stupid things you're blabbering about. And calm down or I'll cast on you a calming spell – or better yet, I'll put you to sleep and be done with it."

"The influence of the locket must be the reason why you don't care about what Voldemort did to Regulus, or what he has done to you," said Sirius persistently, his voice slow as if he was talking to an addled-brained child. "It must be the reason why you still support Voldemort, why you have forgiven the things he did."

Orion stared at him neutrally, and said coolly, "Perhaps I forgave him in the same way that I forgave you." He narrowed his eyes at him, and bit out sharply, "Do you know that you were foremost in Regulus' mind during the torture? I kept thinking about you, wishing I could see you one last time. And I wished you had answered the letter I had sent you two days before. But you never did. You didn't even open it, did you? You probably vanished it on the spot."

Sirius flinched, a torn, haunted expression sweeping over his face, and Orion felt a flicker of satisfaction. Good, he had driven his point across. It was better to finally make the wizard confront his demons than allow him to keep rambling about ridiculous 'possession' theories. And there was truly nothing else he wanted to talk about with his father other than what was required to fulfill his initial intentions.

Orion stood face-to-face with the wizard, pinning him with his eyes, and he whispered mordantly, "I sent you that letter two days before I found the locket, two days before I died. Do you know what I wrote? I confided that I didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore, I said I wanted to heal the breach between us, and I asked you for help. I asked you to help me hide for a while, to help me start a new life." He leveled him with a hard gaze, and hissed out bitingly, "But . you . didn't . reply."

"I didn't know," said Sirius hoarsely, staring at him with tormented eyes full of grief. "I didn't know that Regulus-" He swallowed thickly, and his eyes searchingly roved over Orion's face, as if he was finally realizing and admitting to himself with great effort that, indeed, all pointed towards that his brother's soul was the same as that of his son's. "- that him, that you were asking for help. I thought it was just a letter asking me to come back to the family. I thought mother had put you up to it again."

"But you didn't care enough about me to even open it," said acidly Orion, piercing him with unmerciful and accusing eyes. "You did the same to him as you have done to me. You chose your light friends over Regulus during your years at Hogwarts, and you chose them again when you didn't reply to a letter – when your reply could have saved his life."

He pulled up to his full height, and added sharply, "And with me, you chose your light friends over me, as well. When you went after Pettigrew to avenge James, knowing there were Dementors because I had told you, and breaking your promise to me that you wouldn't go. And you chose your light friends over me, once again, today. When you threatened to tell the Order about my plans to attack Bill Weasley's wedding."

"Why are you saying these things?" whispered Sirius, his voice uneven and tremulous, as he stared at him with a hurt and wounded expression on his face, Orion's words clearly stabbing him deeply.

"Because it's the truth," replied Orion coldly, making himself gaze at him with contempt. "Because you have to understand how much you continuously hurt me – Regulus and myself. Because you must understand what you caused when you repeatedly chose light wizards instead of me – your brother and son. You know what the respective consequences were: Regulus' death, and almost mine and all the other things that happened to me due to it when I confronted the Dementor to bring you back to life, which wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't gone after Pettigrew. In short, I'm telling you these things because you must see that I'm the one who you should have always cared about, and to whom you should have been, and must be now, loyal to."

'And because what I have said will tear you apart and fill you with deep-rooted grief and regret, and you'll try to forever make it up to me,' he inwardly thought. 'And it better work. Because if not, I would kill you if you ever did anything that could be construed as a betrayal towards me.'

But he didn't say it, because he had warned Remus about the latter, and that was enough. He didn't think that Sirius would understand that he was truly capable of doing it, or his reasons, and it would unnecessarily crush the wizard if he openly said it to him.

The truth of the unvoiced words didn't grievously pain him; he accepted it without scruples. He knew, in his insides, that after killing Gellert he was capable of killing anyone else if it was necessary, his own father included, because it would pale in comparison.

This reality didn't worry or grieve him as it would have time ago. He knew he had changed, he knew he was hardened - Remus persisted in remarking upon it, as if hoping he would be scared by it and thus make an effort to change back into his more compassionate self of his younger years.

But he wasn't scared, and he felt no dread. When admitting to Calypso the stuff he had, when he had gazed at Draco in his bed after encountering Arian outside Potter Manor, he had voiced and revealed things about himself and his nature, accepting them with open arms. Since then, he didn't feel ashamed or apprehensive about any of it. He was who he was, with no remorse.

Orion gazed at the wizard, seeing that Sirius' shoulders were slumped over, and that there was a wretched, deeply pained expression on his face, and he plucked out the fake locket from his robes' pocket.

"I want you to have this," said Orion, pushing the locket into his father's limp hands, "and always keep it, as a reminder of what happened to Regulus. A reminder that you didn't do anything to help him and thus lost him, because you could have prevented his death. It will, I hope, also remind you of everything I've said."

Without a pause, he fished out the Black Heir ring from his pocket and he flicked his wrist to grasp the wand that came shooting out, but he momentarily halted when he saw how utterly despondent, dejected and crushed Sirius looked, as if he had received a fatal wound from which he wouldn't recover.

Orion sighed, and said quietly, "I love you, Dad, you know that, right?"

"Yes," murmured Sirius without glancing up at him, his fingers jerkily tightening around the fake locket. "I love you too, son."

And without any more words, Orion taped the ring with his wand's tip, instantly feeling how his body was plunged into a swirling tightening of space and a rush of colors.

* * *

Orion landed in the middle of Malfoy Manor's master bedroom, and he immediately checked to confirm that his mind shields were fully up, as usual. Then, he didn't have to glance around much before he caught sight of Voldemort, and he inwardly huffed.

The wizard was elegantly and restfully lounging on an armchair by the fireplace, evidently waiting for him with the utter confidence that Orion would make an appearance that night, as the man had so arrogantly stated hours before. Yet, Voldemort didn't even twitch at his arrival. With supreme disinterest in Orion, the wizard still gazed into the flickering flames in the hearth, his long fingers slowly caressing the stem of the glass of red wine in his hand, gently tilting the glass in a circular motion, tiny crimson stars sparkling when the firelight played with the crystal.

Annoyed at being so blatantly ignored, Orion loudly cleared his throat. But when Voldemort didn't do anything except briefly glance at him to then gaze back into the fire, Orion scoffed and proceeded to start removing the numerous pieces of his attire.

One by one, he neatly folded them on top of the seat of an armchair near the large four-poster bed. His clothes were followed by his wands and wand-holsters, while he wondered why he had ended up showing up there, after all.

Perhaps it was because his father's ridiculous ideas had made him think about Tom, missing him. Or perhaps, after everything he had learned that night, it was because in the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter if he slept with Voldemort and if he continued to do so whenever he felt like it. Or perhaps it was because he wanted to fall asleep in the warmth of someone's arms, and Merlin knew why he considered that Voldemort had to be the one to provide it.

When he was finally standing naked in all his glory, not even remotely abashed after how well Voldemort intimately knew him, Orion drew down the bed covers, and said loftily, "My father thinks I'm possessed by your locket."

At that, Voldemort did fully turn his face to gaze at him, an eyebrow quirked.

Orion shot him an amused grin, as he slipped under the covers and yanked a pillow to puff it. "Yup. What you heard. It was quite funny, if you ask me. I think he would have gotten hold of a muggle exorcist if I had let him." He sniggered under his breath. "I don't doubt the idea crossed his mind."

"You saw your father, when?" inquired Voldemort blandly, slowly rising to his feet as he settled his glass of wine on the fireplace's mantelpiece.

"Just now," replied Orion dismissively, cozily burrowing under the bed covers. He shot him a glance, and said lightly, "He was very unhappy that we're going to attack the Weasley's home during the wedding. So I popped into Grimmauld Place to have a drink with him and smooth things over."

Voldemort narrowed his crimson eyes at him, as he divested himself of the black, silk sleeping robe he was wearing. "That was inordinately foolish of you. Aurors could have-"

"But they didn't," cut in Orion, poking out a hand from underneath the bed covers to wave it dismissively. "Not that I'm ever going to take that chance again, mind you."

When he saw that Voldemort was finally completely naked and calmly making his way to the bed –taking his bloody time- he stated firmly, "I didn't come here to shag."

And then Orion noticed, as his gaze appreciatively trailed over Voldemort, that the wizard wasn't wearing the Black heirloom pendant. Perhaps Calypso had been right when she had said that Voldemort must have been scared by the hocrux-connection thing that had happened the last time they had sex.

"_What did you come here to do, then?"_ hissed Voldemort impassively, pulling up the covers from his side of the bed and smoothly getting in.

"Rest. Sleep. Your bed is more comfortable than mine, and I can put you to good use as a very snuggly pillow," replied Orion airily, rolling to a side to face him, as the wizard luxuriously stretched out under the covers. In the next second, he yanked the receding bed covers to himself, and snapped with annoyance, "Oi! Don't hog the sheets, you always do that, and then I wake up cold in the middle of the night!"

Voldemort scoffed scathingly, and propped his head on a hand, eyeing him closely with narrowed eyes, as he hissed suspiciously, _"You look exhausted. What have you been up to?"_

"World domination, as always," said Orion flippantly, shooting him a roguish smirk.

"Without my help? Doubtful," drawled Voldemort arrogantly, his lips slightly quirking upwards. He shot him a pointed glance, and hissed imperiously, _"Come closer."_

Orion huffed, but of course that he ended up obeying, worming his way under the covers until he was face-to-face with the wizard, but he warned again, "No shagging-"

"_You're not the only one who's tired, boy," _hissed Voldemort with sharp irritation, as he maneuvered Orion around to have Orion's back pressed against his chest.

When he felt Voldemort resting his chin on the top of his head, while the wizard wrapped an arm over his waist and the man's long, skillful fingers trailed over his chest, Orion sighed contently and placidly rested his head on a fluffy pillow.

Voldemort's unusual gentle, slow caresses had a soothing quality to them, and Orion could have almost purred under the ministrations. Of course, he didn't, but he did sigh again, feeling very snugly comfortable. And he slightly pushed himself backwards, burrowing and nestling himself against the wizard's front. He felt then that Voldemort was very aroused, though thankfully the wizard didn't give any signs that he would do anything about it. The wizard's nimble fingers kept caressing him, now drawing small circles on Orion's taut, flat belly, and they didn't go lower or move from there.

Orion closed his eyes restfully, and murmured, "You wouldn't reconsider merging back with all your horcruxes, would you?"

Voldemort's caresses briefly halted before they were continued, and he hissed calmly, his warm breath puffing against the back of Orion's head, making locks of hair flutter, _"No." _His voice turned cuttingly snide, as he added in a low hiss,_ "Why? Do you miss my younger self?_"

"A bit," replied Orion coolly. "You would be more like the Tom of the locket if you had a fuller soul."

"_Ah, I see,"_ hissed Voldemort with cruel, jeering mockery, _"and you would have back the Tom you so pathetically love and yearn for. I remember how you cried words of love to him, pouring your little heart out."_

"What I said to Tom then has little meaning. I didn't even know what love was, back then. I was a child," said Orion flatly, and he was very tempted to add crisply, 'But I did mean it when I said it to you, you despicable scumbag.' But he didn't, because not even he liked to remember about that.

"_You're still a child,"_ hissed Voldemort, resuming his lingering caresses on Orion's belly.

"Then you're a pedophile," volleyed back Orion with a snort.

Voldemort scoffed, and drawled with supreme arrogance, _"What if I am, boy?"_

"I couldn't care less," replied Orion pointedly, "as long as you don't bugger any other 'child' than myself."

"_And if I fuck adults?"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, his fingers roving over Orion's stomach. _"You wouldn't have any problems with that?"_

"You're asking? How very considerate of you," said Orion mockingly. He gave a small shrug with the shoulder that wasn't pressed against the bed, and said neutrally, "You can do whatever you want. We're not married anymore. Oh, and you should know that I'm going to Zraven Citadel tomorrow."

Abruptly, Voldemort's fingernails slightly sunk into Orion's skin before the wizard's fingers relaxed and the caresses pleasantly continued, as the wizard hissed calmly, _"Why the change in plans? You were going in a week."_

"The next meeting to plot the attacks will be in four days," replied Orion smoothly. "Armitage promised he would have by then the layouts of the Irish and Scottish Ministries, and Yaxley is getting the magical blueprints of the English Ministry and it's wards from Pius Thicknesse. So I figured that we wouldn't get much done if we didn't know with how many vampires we can count with. So it's better if I go tomorrow to Zraven Citadel and start negotiating."

He paused, and murmured quietly as his eyelids tiredly fluttered down, "Then, I will be able to tell you exactly how many vampires will participate in the attacks, and during the meeting we can decide where to send groups of them – to which Ministries, buildings, departments, floors, and such. You know? We would be able to plan something more detailed. And perhaps Lezander or some other representative can also attend the meeting. The werewolves will show up, so it's only fair that a vampire does as well, so that they can participate and relate the information back to their fighters."

Voldemort hummed but remained silent, and soon Orion relaxed further under the man's gentle caresses, his mind slowly drifting away in a tired, unencumbered, deep slumber.

The following morning, Orion would wake up with Voldemort's arm tightly wrapped around him, the wizard's hand pressed gently and possessively on his belly and his own hand laying on top of Voldemort's.


	33. Rosier Manor, Nana & Dolly

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Hi everyone! I know it's been ages, but let me reassure you that nothing bad happened to me this time, no problem with identity theft or with my arm –it's healing quite nicely!- but I must thank you for your concern! The only reason why I hadn't been writing was because I was studying like mad for my finals, and finally, I'm through with them!! *grins* So at last I had the time to delve once more in my fic, and here's the update that was long coming!

And I must thank you all for your reviews, especially for the long ones, since they're definitely the reason why I was motivated to start writing this chapter the very day I had my last exam! Without them I think I would have procrastinated for a long while before attempting to keep writing the fic. Your reviews truly inspired me! *winks*

Oh, and as you know, I'm forbidden to reply back to individual reviewers in Author's Notes –I used to do that, and it was much simpler, alas, I cannot do it anymore, as per ffnet regulation. So I'm going to clarify some points, addressing them in general to all readers.

It's going to be long, so you can skip it if you want.

1.) In respect to Orion's romantic life, I believe that Orion will always 'love' Voldemort/Tom above all others. I don't want to sound corny, but I think that Orion's fundamental feelings towards Voldemort will never change in essence. What has changed throughout the stories is the way in which Orion admits those feelings and how he acts based on them, and more importantly, how he treats Voldemort due to them.

Time ago, with locket Tom, when Orion was much younger and naive, he was more dramatic and acted more emotionally when it came to his feelings. And he felt everything more deeply and spouted it without second thoughts, like when he claimed that he 'loved' Tom, and how he was affected emotionally by the things that happened to Tom and between them. He was all together 'softer', and it can also be seen in the way that he was affected when he believed that Lezander had died. All in all, he was emotional and didn't do anything to conceal it, and many things threw him off balance, making him feel things deeply. That he was over-emotional can be understood due to his youth, immaturity and also his feeling of being rather lost in everything that happened, since he didn't fully know what was going on and what he was.

Then, he slowly changed as he became older, when things that happened to him made him become hardened. That's why we will never see him again crying and spouting words of love –at least not as emotionally as before-, or running to Lezander to be comforted and that kind of stuff that happened in the Black Heir, when Orion was a young boy. I believe that he's lost that 'innocent' and naively soft part of himself.

Furthermore, at this point, at last, he has determined that even though he loves Voldemort, he also wants Lezander and Draco, for reasons already explained in the fic. But his feelings for Voldemort are reined in due to their failed marriage and all the mistrusts and power plays between them. Due to it, Orion will never be as soft as he was before with Voldemort. He's older, he's wiser, and alas, he's more cynical.

Nevertheless, it's messy and complicated to want 3 people at the same time, and to decide to have them all no matter what, but I think it's realistic given Orion's history with each of them, and also due to external forces –Spirits' manipulations, what happened between Orion and Draco due to the Resurrection Stone, etc..- that have brought him close to them. What remains to be seen is exactly how Orion will manage to be with Lez, Draco and Voldie, in what capacity, and if he will succeed. For now, he only knows that he wants them, and he'll try to have them without giving anything up.

2.) Each reader can have their own theories about the pregnancy thing and what happened when Voldemort obliviated Orion. There are a lot of clues that point to different directions and it will be clarified once Orion discovers it for himself. For now, all the charms casted on him –by Grindelwald, Voldemort and Petra Podroff- indicate that he isn't pregnant, so Orion has put the issue out of his mind. Now he's relieved, and feels that the matter is settled, so he won't keep thinking about it since he has the war to worry about.

3.) Someday, after this fic is over, I would like to edit and change small parts of both fics. There are a lot of stuff I know I could improve, particularly scenes between Dumbledore and Orion –like the pensieve ones- of which I admit I'm not proud of. So perhaps I will take the time to change those parts and improve the fics all together. Anyway, that will be done when this fic is concluded and I would let you know. But, other than that, I don't think I will be writing side-stories. I know some of you would like to read things from Voldemort's point of view, or Lezander's and Draco's, but I don't think I'll spend time on that. If anything, I could perhaps write a short story, a kind of epilogue for the Vindico Atrum, showing what happens years after, if some of you are interested in that. Most probably, I will write another different HP fanfic –much shorter and simpler, this time- or maybe try to write an original story.

**NOTE:**

This is really looong chapter. I hardly know how it got so long. I tried to make it shorter but everything mentioned was important, everything plays a part later, so I couldn't cut out anything without making the story look chopped off and incongruent, so I hope you are patient.

And I must warn you that Lezander and the Kraljica Mati will come in the next chappie. I had initially planned to include it in this one, but the chapter would have been monstrous if I had kept on going to write those scenes.

But I hope you enjoy it and review nonetheless, even if the scenes you were waiting for didn't happen in this chappie. Pretty please? It really helps me to know what you hate or like!

* * *

**Chapter 33 **

Orion was following a stubborn Daisy into Potter Manor's main dining room, with Calypso trailing by his side, her expression still one of deep musings due to what he had told her.

Several hours ago, early in the morning, he had first woken up to find himself entangled in Voldemort's arms, with the wizard's hand atop his flat belly, and his own hand intertwined with the man's. He had been too sleepy and comfortable to do anything but snuggle closer to his source of warmth and fall asleep again.

The next time his eyes drowsily opened, he found the canopied bed empty, Voldemort gone from the bedroom without waking him. It had irritated him to have been left alone so unceremoniously, but he had wasted no time in taking a quick shower, donning on his clothes and wands, and then wander around Malfoy Manor in search of the wizard.

During his exploration, he had found out from a house-elf that Snape was no longer staying at the Manor – which didn't surprise him much. Knowing the Potions Master, the wizard must have left for Spinner's End, since the man valued his privacy and solitude and always stayed as briefly as possible in the company of fellow Death Eaters. Orion knew that, excluding Lucius Malfoy, Snape detested all other Death Eaters, and would take any opportunity to rid himself of their presence under any believable excuse.

Thus, like a hermit preferring solitude to company that would be considered insupportable, there was no doubt that Snape had surreptitiously ensconced himself in his 'home'. Orion remembered the shabby house well since he had occupied it during a short period of time, when Snape had first become his legal guardian. Hence, he knew that it was heavily warded and that the wizard would be safe from Aurors in his hideout, even if it was known to Dumbledore.

While striding along the elegant hallways of Malfoy Manor and curtly nodding to passing Death Eaters which resided there –those who were 'wanted'- Orion had decided that he would pay Snape a short visit before leaving for Zraven Citadel that night. There were still some small matters he needed to discuss with the man.

Once he had found Voldemort in the Manor's master study, and after being forced by the wizard to have something for breakfast, they had engaged in several serious discussions. They had negotiated about issues only the two of them could resolve, since they were the main leaders of the Dark.

It had taken Orion all his powers of persuasion but he had been pleased with the results. Voldemort could be very amenable after a quick shag on the desk, as Orion had found out to his immense pleasure and satisfaction. He had had more reasons to be satisfied when two missives had reached them by owl: one for Voldemort, from McNair, and the other addressed to both of them, from Sebastien Valois.

The first news had been reason for celebration and the second, though not conveying good news, hadn't caused alarm in Orion since he had been expecting something of the sort to happen.

Once their negotiations had concluded and after they had found a solution to a problem in Malfoy Manor's vast library, Orion had left the Manor with a skip in his strides. Though, he had noticed before apparating, that Voldemort's sex-induced 'good mood' had quickly vanished with the reminder that Orion wouldn't be seeing him for four days – the first days of his one month stay at Zraven Citadel.

Nevertheless, Voldemort hadn't said a negative word about it. The wizard had merely stared at him with an emotionless expression on his face, commanding in a sharp hiss that Orion better get from the vampires what they needed for the war. The wizard's threatening 'or else' was implied in the man's tone, but it hadn't fazed Orion one bit.

Thus, about two hours before lunch time, Orion had apparated into Potter Manor after his usual triangulation through the alley of the Leaky Cauldron. He had silently popped straight into his bedroom, to be confronted by a highly angered Sylvana throwing a hissy fit, coiled on top of his bed, her tail rattling.

Shooting her a repentant, sheepish smile, knowing he could no longer procrastinate to make amends with her, he had taken his snake familiar into Potter Manor's vast, beautiful gardens. Indeed, it had taken him a whole hour to get back into her good graces, listening to her hissing angrily about the unfairness and ignominy of having been 'abandoned' for a whole year; banished, alone and forgotten, in Black Manor.

But Orion knew very well how to please his vain, demanding, and self-centered little snake. He had given Sylvana his undivided attention, petting the soft, tender area under her chin, gently scratching the tiny scales between her eyes, soothingly hissing words admiring her beauty, the way the sunlight lit up her silver scales, and then conjuring mice and frogs for her to chase around and haunt through the rose bushes.

After she had magnanimously forgiven him, her once lithe body bulging with the 'snacks' she had gulped down, Sylvana had ordered him to lay down on the grass. And the snake had wasted no time in coiling herself on top of his chest, hissing with pleased satisfaction while she sunbathed, using him as a warm, snuggly cushion.

While she hissed contently, Orion had taken the opportunity to finally contact Hermione through the mind-link he had with her, due to the mind-possession curse he had cast on her.

It was his first attempt, and he had succeeded at once, even if he hadn't quite known what to expect. The ancient, long ago banned and forgotten curse was one he had faintly remembered from the memories of one of his past lives, and he had known little else about it, besides how to cast it and what it did and entailed. Yet going into Hermione's cursed mind had been fairly easy.

He had desired to contact her, and in the next second he had felt as if part of his consciousness had been funneled into a pensieve-like basin brimming with images and memories – Hermione's- while hearing a non-stop voice rattling off her thoughts.

Her mind's inner voice had halted at once, Hermione seemingly instantly feeling an alien presence in her mind, and Orion had immediately felt her tense. Then he had been assaulted by her frantic thoughts, rushing through with rage, anger, impotence, fear and a whole other mesh of emotions, while her voice spat out accusations in the midst of sobs, pleas in the midst of raging fury, as she tried to push his presence away from her mind.

Obviously, Hermione didn't succeed, and it had only taken Orion a few words to make her settle down. He had simply murmured into her mind to calm down, and she had been forced to do so. And while gently inspecting her latest memories, he had soothingly whispered into her mind words of comfort, telling her to simply accept it without fighting, since the more she opposed his presence, the more she would harm herself.

In her mind, he had seen that during the last week, after leaving Hogwarts and going home for her holidays, she had bought by owl books about Occlumency and tried it as a way of fighting the mind curse. Orion knew it was pointless and had told her so, but he didn't doubt that she would forever keep trying to lift from herself a curse that had no counter-spell or any mode of escape from it.

Nevertheless, he had been pleased with what he had found in her mind. She had done as he had ordered her to do: she had moved heaven and earth, sending letters to every wizarding bookstore she could think of, asking if they had a copy of Dumbledore's Treatise. And after a lot of searching and inquiries, she had finally received the booklet by owl, paying for it, from an obscure little wizarding bookshop in Berlin.

Hermione had received it the day before, and had already cast on it the translation spell and was almost through with it – since she couldn't fight his previous order to do so. And Orion had felt the confusion she had regarding Dumbledore's research conclusions: about the crosses between wizarding lines with muggles or muggleborns; how pureblood lines, either dark or light, were magically weakened by muggle blood; and how the man had categorized wizarding kind as a species distinctly separate from muggles.

Indeed, the young witch was appalled by what she had read, her thoughts warring between believing the research papers of a prestigious light wizard she had always admired and looked up to, and wanting to deny Dumbledore's conclusions, since the consequences for her kind were so grave. Hermione was confused, fearful, undecided, yet Orion had still felt her resolute determination of getting to the bottom of things, to know all she could about the issue.

He had also detected her firm thought that, even if Dumbledore's research was correct – and thus what dark wizards had always claimed regarding the importance of blood purity was valid- she still believed that there had to be a solution, that it was no reason for discrimination against muggleborns or muggles. Regarding that, Orion had murmured into her mind that he agreed, and simply left it at that, not wanting to pointlessly debate with her or to cause her more anguish.

Finally, he had finally voiced his next orders: to write to Ronald Weasley, asking to spend the rest of her holidays in the Burrow; to show interest in the warding process in preparation for Bill's wedding; to surreptitiously learn as much as she could about the wards, to attach herself for that purpose to McGonagall and Moody, if she had the chance; to tell them about her desire to become part of the Order as soon as they considered her fit for it; and ultimately, to not only attend Bill's wedding but also to be prepared to covertly pull down some of the wards the moment he commanded her to do so through the curse's link.

Orion had felt his orders sink into her mind, and also how Hermione had instantly rebelled against it, furious, angered and fearful that she was being forced into becoming a traitor. Yet he had felt her slightly crack when she fruitlessly battled against his orders in her mind. He had felt her break into tears and sobs, alone in the middle of her bedroom, but he had also felt her pervading sense of impotence and dejection, since she knew she wouldn't be able to refuse or counteract his commands.

In the end, he had receded from her frantic mind, whispering soothing, calming words, which he knew would have the desired effect on her, and he had gently closed the link.

After that, Orion had left the gardens and stepped into the Manor, settled Sylvana on his bed for her nap, and then had gone looking for Calypso, with much to tell her.

As expected, he had found her ensconced in the master study, continuing her research into muggle religions, modern weaponry and warfare. And without any further ado, before she could pipe in a word or rant about her research subjects, he had informed her that he had finally contacted Hermione through the curse.

Calypso looked very satisfied with that, but he had given her no chance to express it, since he had quickly disclosed to her what had happened the night before with Arian, and what he had discovered from Lily's letter to Sirius.

He hadn't told her about his discoveries regarding Regulus, Kreacher and the implications concerning his soul and past lives. He had never planned to do so, those were still very personal matters to him, but he did require her input concerning his suspicions about how much Bathilda Bagshot could know about him or Arian.

And at that precise moment, after telling her about the old magical historian, he had seen how her forehead had crinkled with a deeply pensive frown, the exact expression which always spread over her face when she was trying hard to remember something. But before she could say anything or before he could ask, Daisy had popped into the study, sternly informing them that lunch was served, with a look that brooked no opposition.

Thus, Orion was at present settling down around the dining table with his house guests. Romulus Rosier warmly greeted him and the wizard laid down the day's issue of the Daily Prophet the moment the first dishes popped in front of them. Calypso, on the other hand, was covertly shooting her father musing glances, a frown still present on her face.

"Earlier today, I transferred control of our Manor's wards to Calypso," said Romulus pleasantly, spearing some vegetables on his plate with his fork. "She'll be able to lockdown the wards as you require." He shot them a warm smile. "And if you need my assistance for either of the Fidelius Charms, I'll be happy to help."

"Oh, thanks," said Orion, returning the wizard's smile, "but we know how to cast it. We looked into it."

After that they fell into an uneasy silence, since Calypso didn't beep a word, still glancing at her father with a strange frown, which Romulus clearly didn't understand and neither did Orion.

With his mind busy with his own thoughts, Orion glanced at the discarded Daily Prophet with a slight feeling of apprehension, while he calmly speared a small juicy potato with his fork, feeling very hungry yet displaying his table manners.

He had seen the article on the front page, written by Elphias Doge, which was a sort of 'obituary' for Dumbledore. Of course, the old coot's childhood friend hadn't revealed anything important, most of it was pure sentimental rubbish, but it made him think about the letter he had sent to Rita Skeeter a while ago.

If he had known then that Bathilda Bagshot knew more than expected, he would have never mentioned her to Skeeter in the letter. Though, he was fairly certain that Skeeter would have found out about the old witch's connection with the Dumbledore family, even without his aid. But he had only wanted Skeeter to find out and write an article about Dumbledore's past relationship with Gellert, to discredit the supposedly dead old man. He certainly didn't want Skeeter to discover anything regarding VA matters.

He dreaded to even imagine how Skeeter would present matters with her veiled viciousness and blatant inaccuracy if she got wind of things. Therefore, this was now a threat to his plans which deeply worried him.

Troubled, Orion covertly glanced at Calypso. Perhaps it troubled her as well, given her persistent frown, though he couldn't quite figure out why she was glancing at her father in a searchingly manner.

As he noiselessly munched down a very tasty and tender morsel of duck a la vinagrette, he dearly wished that their lunch would be over soon. He still had a lot to discuss with Calypso and he couldn't do so in front of her father. And they had much to do before he could leave for Zraven Citadel that night. The Elite would be dropping in during the evening, and he had to go through with the Marking Ceremony that Calypso had planned and had yet to tell him about.

If it was up to him, he would simply go to Zraven Citadel as soon as possible. Though he knew he wouldn't find anyone awake until nightfall; especially since he was dropping in without forewarning – they were still expecting him in a week. And vampires, nocturnal creatures that they were, always slept through the day since they preferred to be active during the night, when they were physically stronger and their minds sharper and more aware.

Feeling increasingly uneasy, Orion's gaze flickered from Calypso to her father, detecting the sudden tension coming from his friend. Romulus was shooting his daughter a puzzled and quizzical glance, while Calypso's face looked as if it had suddenly been lit up by an abrupt realization, her fork dangling midway from her mouth to her plate.

She cleared her throat, settled her fork down on the table, and calmly took a sip from her goblet. Orion was now glancing at her expectantly, knowing that something was up, though he continued eating from his plate as casually as possible.

"Father," said Calypso softly, fondly smiling at the man, though Orion knew that tone of voice well. She was onto something, like a hound after a secreted and hidden bone. "I wonder why Karkaroff once asked you to move to Godric's Hollow."

"I beg your pardon?" said Romulus impassively, staring at his daughter, while Orion did the same, though in quite a different manner. "I don't know what you're referring to, my dear."

"Oh, it was long ago, so perhaps you don't quite remember," said Calypso conversationally, pushing around the beans on her plate with her fork. "It was during the holidays of my second year. As always, we were spending them at Durmstrang and I was in your quarters, reading a book in your private library, actually." Her smile widened, as if she was having fond reminiscences. "And Headmaster Karkaroff came into your study, and… well, I couldn't help but overhear-"

"You were eavesdropping," interjected Romulus blandly, his calm tone of voice belied by his eyes, which seemed to be scrutinizing her.

Calypso let out an amused, soft chuckle. "Oh, father, eavesdropping, indeed! Of course not. Why would I be spying on my own father?"

Orion, though quite puzzled about the whole matter, had to hide a grin behind his goblet as he quickly took a sip from it. From what he knew, Calypso had been poking her nose around anything which piqued her curiosity before she was even able to learn her alphabet.

And her spying activities on her father's businesses had saved their hides and benefited them several times – like when she found out that the Death Eaters were going to break into the Department of Mysteries in search of the prophecy. If Calypso hadn't been spying around her father's office at Durmstrang, they would have never known in time.

"May I ask why you're so suddenly interested in a private conversation between Igor and I, which took place so long ago?" said Romulus, arching an eyebrow at his daughter, his tone of voice chiding. "And it was such a trivial conversation as well."

"Well, you see," said Calypso smoothly, shooting Orion a sympathetic glance. "I suddenly remembered it because just before lunch, Orion was telling me that he wanted to visit his mother's grave at Godric's Hollow." Orion nearly choked on his wine, but she continued quite casually, "And I recalled that Karkaroff had asked you to move us into that wizarding village, and that you refused." She shot her father an understanding glance, as she added softly, "Of course, you didn't want to uproot me from Durmstrang, the only home I had known. But you mentioned to Karkaroff that perhaps Ragnarok would be up to the task-"

"Ragnarok?" interjected Orion before he could restrain himself, his goblet dangling from his hand, staring at her with wide eyes, starting to get an inkling about what was going on. "Draco's childhood tutor? And briefly mine?" His gaze flickered to Romulus. "And an Aux Atrum too, as I well know by now. He was the one who inducted Sebastien Valois into the Aux, after all. But what does he have to do with-"

"I see you 'overheard' many things, daughter," interrupted Romulus curtly, without meeting Orion's puzzled yet demanding gaze, his attention fixed on Calypso. His eyes slightly narrowed as they flickered from Calypso to Orion and back. "Both of you know perfectly well that I cannot discuss any Aux matters with you. Now, I would like to know why you have a sudden interest in… Godric's Hollow."

"Because Orion wants to visit his mother's grave, as I told you," replied Calypso, the lie smoothly rolling from her lips, as she gazed at her father with wide, innocent eyes, a hurt expression in them at being questioned. "And given what I remember from your conversation with Karkaroff, I thought that perhaps he did end up ordering Ragnarok to live in Godric's Hollow."

At her father's persistently narrowed eyes, she quickly waved a hand dismissively. "For whatever reason. We really don't need to know. But if Ragnarok is still living in the village, I'm sure Orion would like to have his address." She instantly shot Orion an inquiring glance. "Right?"

"Of course!" said Orion immediately, warmly smiling at Romulus, lacing his voice with melancholic eagerness. "It would be great to see my old tutor again. Not to dig into any Aux matters, rest assured. But since I'll be visiting my mum's grave, I can take the opportunity to pay Ragnarok a visit as well."

"Exactly," interjected Calypso, glancing beseechingly at her father. "So perhaps you could give us his address?"

Romulus gazed at them stoically, waving a hand to indicate he was through with his lunch, at which a house-elf immediately appeared to vanish the wizard's plates with a snap of his fingers.

"I'm not in the least fooled," said the wizard flatly, but his stern expression mellowed when he gazed at his daughter, and he sighed. He drew his wand out from his robes' pocket, and gave it a flick, a piece of parchment instantly materializing by the side of Orion's plate. "That's Ragnarok's address in Godric's Hollow."

Romulus rose to his feet, and added curtly, "I don't want to know what you two are truly up to." He glanced at his daughter, and said quietly, "But be careful. Don't be seen."

And with that, the man calmly strode away from the dining room, leaving Orion and Calypso to stare at each other with small, conspiratorial smiles on their faces.

Seeing that both of them were through with their lunch, Orion quickly asked for some tea to the house-elf, and then stared at the piece of parchment, as he mused, "Do you really think that Karkaroff ended up sending Ragnarok to live in Godric's Hollow, to watch over Bathilda Bagshot?"

"Yes," replied Calypso exultantly, shooting him a satisfied grin. "I suddenly remembered the conversation between my dad and Karkaroff the moment you told me your suspicions regarding Bagshot. And…"

She leaned forward, and continued excitedly, "Well, according to what Komorov disclosed to you, Karkaroff was the one who sent Aux to spy on Arian when he was with the Flamels. So it must have been around that same time when Karkaroff asked my dad to move to Godric's Hollow, and it must have been to keep a watch on Bagshot – who else of importance is left in that village? No one! And since my dad refused for my sake and proposed Ragnarok instead, then your old tutor must still be there, carrying on that mission in between tutoring jobs, if he hasn't retired by now."

"So you think that the Spirits know all about Bagshot?" interjected Orion, quizzically gazing at her. "About what the old witch must have discovered regarding Vindico matters, me, or Arian?"

"I do," replied Calypso firmly, nodding at him. "Why else would have Karkaroff sent an Aux to Godric's Hollow? And I think Ragnarok must have been making sure, during all this time, that no one gleaned any important information from Bagshot."

She stared at him pointedly, and added with a knowing grin, "So you shouldn't concern yourself about what Skeeter could garner from her. If Bagshot isn't able to protect her secrets, then Ragnarok will surely do it for her. After all, all Aux are very skilled when it comes to mind spells, aren't they? I bet you anything that Ragnarok has casted a mind compulsion web on the old witch's mind, so that she cannot disclose any relevant information about Vindico matters. And if you want to learn about what Arian wants you to discover, then you'll need to persuade Ragnarok to help you out."

Orion hummed in agreement while swiftly pocketing the piece of parchment, and then he shot her a grateful smile. "Thanks. I wouldn't have gotten his address if you didn't have your father wrapped around your little finger."

"Don't let my dad hear you say that," said Calypso with a chuckle, her expression one of smugness, yet also of filial love and fondness.

"I think your father is quite aware of it, poor man," remarked Orion with amusement, as he served himself a drop of milk into his after-lunch tea.

Calypso's lips quirked upwards, while she dropped several sugar cubes into her tea and began to gently stir it with a tiny silver spoon. "So… when are we going to Godric's Hollow?"

"Merlin's knickers, after the attacks of August the first, I would say," replied Orion with a sigh. "I barely have time for anything else during this month."

She shot him a frown while she took a sip from her tea. "Why not before? You still have this week before going to Zraven Cita-"

"Oh, no," interrupted Orion, glancing up at her. "I forgot to tell you. I'm leaving tonight."

"What?" said Calypso, slamming down her tea cup, staring at him incredulously. "We have a lot to do! I was counting on you being here during the week-"

"It's more important for me to see the Kraljica Mati as soon as possible, Scaly," he interjected calmly, bringing his tea cup to his lips as he blew over it. "Besides, you're more than capable to carry on with the Elite and the DA, without me, for a couple of days. I'll be back in time for the next planning meeting with Voldemort and the rest of the allies, before I have to leave again to continue my so-called vampire training."

Orion's expression brightened, and he briefly took a sip from his cup before he gently settled it down on the saucer, shooting her a wide smile. "Oh, and I have several news for you."

She perked up with interest, and Orion's smile warmed fondly as he continued, "I managed to convince Voldemort to appoint Lucius as the Minister of Magic once we take over it."

Calypso's eyebrows shot to her hairline, and then she mused aloud pensively, "Well, if our coup goes well, I certainly see the benefits of appointing Mr. Malfoy as the Minister. He knows his way around the political arena, he was highly respected before he was convicted for being a Death Eater a year ago, and that accusation will hardly matter once the Dark takes over the Ministry, and I'm sure he'll be able to charm and manipulate everyone once more."

She picked up her tea cup, and shot him a smug smile. "Not to mention of course, that a wizard like him must have a lot of blackmail material to pull the strings of any important light wizard that we will allow to remain in the Ministry. And I would say that he's already in your pocket after the Spirits revealed themselves to him, hailing you as the Prophet."

"True, but most importantly of all, he's someone very well known by the whole English wizarding community," said Orion firmly, stressing the matter. "No matter their opinions about him, he's a familiar face and name. Both Voldemort and I agreed that the transition must be as smooth as possible when it comes to the Ministry of Magic. If there are too many abrupt changes in figureheads, light wizards will resist and be fearful about what we want to bring upon them. That's something we want to avoid."

He piercingly stared at her, and added decisively, "The less number of light wizarding families that rebel against the new rule, the better. After all, those who end up opposing us by rallying at Hogwarts will be either ultimately killed during that battle, imprisoned, or be pardoned under severe conditions. And we don't want them to be many, since there must be light wizards left to rule over."

"I see your point," piped in Calypso with a bright smile. "Well thought."

"Thanks," said Orion, widely smirking at her. "And, to make it even better, I persuaded Voldemort to give the position of Personal Assistant to the new Minister of Magic to Artemisa."

"Artemisa?!" hissed out Calypso, forcefully slamming down her tea cup, making the tiny silver tea spoon jump into the air before it clanked back on the table. "She's an over-ambitious little harlot who uses her wiles and sexuality to wrap everyone around her little finger, she's a gold-digger-"

"She has her own galleons," interjected Orion, frowning at her, "she stands to inherit the Almeida fortune, she's the only heiress of her family-"

" – who fancies herself as the next Jezabel Zabini!" snapped Calypso, ending her furious rant, piercing him with stern, narrowed eyes. "It didn't escape anybody's notice how she flirted with you when you came to Durmstrang for your weekend classes during the school year, Orion! And she'll be worse when you tell the Elite that you're no longer married to Voldemort. She'll throw herself at you, hoping to ensnare you-"

"She's a valued member of the Elite," interrupted Orion firmly, gazing at her reproachfully. "I don't understand why your dislike for her has grown to such proportions-"

"She gives dark pureblood witches a bad reputation!" bit out Calypso sharply, jabbing her tea spoon into her cup, forcefully stirring it around, spilling tea all over the mantle. "Mark my words, she'll be trouble for you-"

"Everyone knows my inclinations, Scaly," scoffed Orion with a roll of his eyes.

"It won't matter to her," she snapped, huffing angrily. "She's the kind of witch who thinks she can make the most recalcitrant of men fall madly in love with her – no matter their sexual preferences! When you tell the Elite that you're the Prophet of our legends, when you tell them all about the Vindico matter, be assured that she'll see you as the greatest catch there is! You'll be her sole target."

Orion shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly, and then sniggered under his breath. "Well, she'll be entertaining then, won't she?"

Calypso shot him an irritated dark glare, and Orion arched an eyebrow and pointed out calmly, "I'm not going to demote her from the Elite just because she likes to seduce people to get what she wants. In our circles, that's hardly unusual."

He leveled her with a hard gaze, and added curtly, "Besides, she's smart and powerful, worthy of her position in my Dark Army. And like the others, when she agreed to become my follower and part of the Elite, she asked for compensation. Moreover, she has just graduated from Durmstrang. And being the personal assistant of the next English Minister of Magic is something I can grant her before we take over Spain. Then, if she wants, she'll have a high-level position in her own country's Ministry, just like the rest of the Elite will have in their respective countries once we take over all of Europe."

"She's not British," bit out Calypso harshly, raising her chin up. "She has no business in our Ministry-"

"Her Spanish nationality will not be an issue since I'm not giving her a post of public election, am I?" interrupted Orion with impatient annoyance. "And from the Elite, she's the best choice for that position." He took a sip from his tea, and shot her a smug smirk. "I have no doubt that she'll be able to 'ingratiate' herself with Lucius Malfoy. Indeed, I think he'll become quite fond of her, given that he's quite susceptible to beauty, wit, social skills and 'pedigree' – all of which she has in vast amounts. And I need one of my own people in a strategic position inside the English Ministry. She'll be able to pass valuable inside information to us and also keep a watch on Lucius' doings, and thus, on Voldemort's machinations within the Ministry."

Orion took another calm sip from his tea, and concluded, his tone of voice brooking no opposition, "Really, Scaly, she's perfect for the job."

"Fine," groused out Calypso, forcefully slamming her tea cup on its saucer, once again. "I hope, for your sake, that she doesn't use the position for her own benefit, instead of ours."

Orion waved a hand dismissively, not at all concerned. He knew Artemisa was steadfastly loyal to him and the Elite, because it suited her to be part of his group of close followers. Furthermore, soon she would be marked. And in a few days, when he disclosed the VA matter to the Elite, he would be casting the parsel mind web on them, as he had once done to Remus, Snape his father, and later to Connolly and Greyback. So there was no way she could do any damage by spilling his secrets and no foreseeable reason for her to turn against him.

He gazed back at Calypso, seeing that she was still fuming, now in silence, and decided to quickly change subjects before she decided to rant against his decision some more.

"This morning, when I was with Voldemort, we received news from McNair and Sebastien," said Orion quickly, and he instantly saw Calypso's mutinous frown disappear as she looked at him with interest. He shot her a large grin, and continued placidly, "Voldemort's efforts with the Giants has finally paid off. You know that McNair was part of the latest envoy sent to them, and he informs that the Giants have finally agreed to participate in the war, on our side."

"Fantastic!" gushed out Calypso excitedly, her eyes gleaming. She chuckled under her breath. "Muggles will be feeling some earthquakes soon, won't they?"

"In a few months, hopefully, when the Giants make their way to England," said Orion with amusement. "The Giants will be here in time for the battle of Hogwarts, if everything goes as planned. McNair and some others will take care that the Giants won't be seen by muggles during their journey."

Calypso nodded, a merry expression on her face. "Great! We can certainly use them to win that battle." She pinned him with her gaze, and asked eagerly, "And what news did Valois send?"

"His is not a good one," said Orion, frowning down at his cup while he played with his tea spoon. "He has reason to believe that the large Veela community in France has taken Dumbledore's side-"

"Arian!" snapped Calypso, pounding her hand on the table. "This has to be Arian's doing."

"I think so too," said Orion with a frazzled sigh. "It makes sense that the Veela would take part in wizarding matters when it comes to one of their own gaining power. I don't think they would have allied themselves to Dumbledore if it wasn't for Arian. Arian must have been the one to find their communities to recruit them."

Calypso frowned worriedly, biting her lower lip. "We don't know much about Veela. We don't know what kind of opponents they'll make in a battlefield. Apart from throwing bolts of fire, transforming into bird-like creatures, and their allure, what else could they do?"

"Well, no one really knows what a fully blooded Veela can do. They keep to themselves and I hardly think that the books written about them are fully accurate," said Orion musingly. "But I think that it's bad enough with the things you've mentioned. Specially, the allure ability is the most worrying, in my opinion. They could have all of our fighters in their thrall, while light wizards take them down. Our side would be paralyzed-"

"But at least the Veela won't be our opponents in the attacks we have planned for August the first," interrupted Calypso firmly. "Those are surprise attacks on the Ministries, the Light will not have forewarning. So we only have to worry about Arian bringing the Veela when we attack Hogwarts since the Light will be expecting that move from us." Orion nodded in agreement, and she added with apprehension, her hand on the table balling into a tense fist, "What could be done against the Veela allure, then? Surely Voldemort and you discussed it when you received Valois' news."

"We found a spell in Malfoy Manor's library," replied Orion, shooting her a half-smile intended to be soothing. "It's used by potions masters, so that they are not affected by the fumes of their brews. It basically creates a sort of filter in one's nostrils, allowing only the passage of filtered and clean air. After what I experienced with Arian, I believe that the Veela allure works through their scent, through their victim's sense of smell. So hopefully, with this spell, we will not be affected by their allure - at least not completely."

He pinned her with his gaze, and added shortly, "I already learned it. I'll teach it to you and you'll have to teach it to the Elite and the DA while I'm at Zraven Citadel."

Calypso nodded sharply, her expression still worried but also determined. "I'll research to see if I can find any other spell that could be useful."

She let out a frazzled sigh. Suddenly, her expression cheered up, and she dug her hand into her robes' pockets. In the next second, she was pushing two pieces of parchment towards Orion, as she said brightly, "That's what I have planned for the Marking Ceremony and the other is a list of what you should be practicing on."

Orion quirked an eyebrow, grabbing first the so-called 'list', his eyes scanning her writing. He glanced up at her, and said disbelievingly, "You want me to do all this during this month?! Haven't I told you that-"

"Yes, yes," she snapped impatiently, waving a hand dismissively. "You'll be very busy, planning the battles, popping in to supervise the DA sessions, undergoing the vampire training, studying to take your PRIMEs early, and whatnot, but you can easily fit what I have suggested in your free time."

"What free time?" grumbled Orion darkly under his breath, but he gave the list another cursory glance, and then gazed back at her, his lips thinning. "From your list, I have no problem in keep training how to duel with my two wands at the same time, and wandlessly and with the use of my raw dark magic, like Gellert taught me." He stabbed a fingertip on one line in the parchment. "But I see no point in acquiring another animagus form! I don't even know if that's possible-"

"Of course you can!" snapped Calypso briskly, leveling at him a firm glance. "Our Human Transformation professor told you that you have the ability of having several animagi forms thanks to the metamorphagi trait carried in your Black bloodline. You managed to transform into Blackwing when you were a kid, and then you managed to attain your wyvern form after it was revealed in class that it was your true animagus form. A wyvern! A magical creature, no less, which only extremely powerful wizards have. So it's only logical that you can have other forms if you apply your efforts into it. You should milk your ability as far as it can go."

Orion wearily rubbed his forehead, glancing again at her written suggestions. "A fox?"

"Exactly," piped in Calypso, looking quite smug with herself. "Your two forms can fly, so your third should be an earth-bound animal. Fast, inconspicuous, small and lithe, yet not weak or vulnerable so that it isn't easily captured or killed." She waved a hand, and added shortly, "You can use it to get into small places, spy, or anything like that. I first thought about a rat… but, well-"

"Definitely not a rat," bit out Orion sharply.

Calypso shot him wry smile. "Yes, that's what I thought. So I propose you learn to turn into a fox."

"I'll think about it," muttered Orion noncommittally, grimacing at the thought of having yet one more thing to do.

Seeing the way in which Calypso was grinning at him, blatantly showing that she had no doubt that he would end up doing exactly what she wanted him to do, he shot her a glare before he briskly grabbed the other parchment and read the indications she had for the Marking Ceremony.

His eyebrows rose at all the details she had put into it: ranging from in which room it would be held and the decorations, to what should be said and what he should wear and have on him – all of it full of meaningful representations of his status and other significant yet subtle power displays which would be understood by any dark wizard.

He would have definitely never been able to plan something quite like it. Calypso's deep understanding of her own kind was visible in every single detail, and also her determination that the Marking Ceremony would be always remembered by the Elite, irrevocably binding their loyalty to him.

Abruptly, his expression darkened when he read the list of the names of the Elite, in the order in which they should be marked, by descending rank of magical power, abilities, and importance in their group.

Orion snapped his head up, piercing her with narrowed eyes, and said sharply, "Titania is the first. You're not on this list."

"I'm not," said Calypso, raising her chin up, though he saw her squirming fretfully in her seat.

"Why?" gritted out Orion, his hand balling around the parchment as he did his utmost to remain calm and accepting – and failing.

His expression must have been thunderous indeed, because Calypso sighed, her shoulders slumped, and she said softly, her eyes looking at him almost pleadingly, "For reasons of my own, I cannot be marked. Not yet."

"I see," hissed out Orion, his expression dark and ominous. "What reasons could that be?" His eyes narrowed to slits, and he spat furiously, "Did you allow the Spirits to use you? Have you become an Aux?! Is that the reason why you've been acting so strangely this year, and now this-"

"No!" snapped Calypso, angrily rising to her feet, her expression one of indignant hurt. "You know I wouldn't betray your trust like that-"

"A Death Eater then?" growled Orion, jumping to his feet, having half a mind to vanish the table between them to reach her swiftly before she could escape, to check every inch of her skin.

It must have been clear on his face, because Calypso's lips pressed into a thin line, and she angrily gestured at her left arm. "What – will you undress me? Will you force me to show you my forearm? Do you have so little faith in me? Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?!"

Seeing her belligerent attitude, but also the hurt in her eyes, Orion forced himself to calm down. He tensely carded his fingers through his hair, and muttered sharply, "No." He searching gazed at her. "I trust you. Always have." His jaw clenched, and he added stiffly, "You said you couldn't be marked 'yet'. Does that mean that you'll allow me to mark you… in the future?"

"Yes," said Calypso, loudly exhaling, her expression turning relieved as she shot him a tentative smile. "I want to bear your mark, Orion. You know that. Just give me some time to sort out some things I must do-"

"How much time?" demanded Orion crisply, closely scrutinizing her. "When?"

She looked momentarily taken aback, before a frown spread on her forehead, her mind undoubtedly fast at work, her expression calculating. "Before the battle of Hogwarts."

Orion wanted nothing more than to tie her down to a chair and batter her with questions until he finally knew what the hell was going on with her, what she had been doing, who was she working for, why had she been so secretive during the year, acting so strangely. Instead, for the sake of their close friendship, which meant more to him than anything, he simply sharply nodded and swallowed his anger, concern and apprehension.

He pocketed the parchments, and said shortly, "Then the Marking Ceremony is postponed until then."

"What? No!" gasped out Calypso looking frazzled. "You shouldn't postpone it for my sake-"

"You should be the first to be marked, and Titania second," interrupted Orion sharply, leveling at her a hard gaze, his tone of voice brooking no opposition. "You and Draco are who I trust the most. He's already marked, so the first during the Ceremony should be you. I want both of you to be my right-hands. And that's final."

He spun on his heels and briskly made way for the door of the dinning room. "Now let's get started with the Fidelius Charms."

As he reached the threshold, he glanced over his shoulder, seeing her still standing rooted in place, looking fretful and uncertain, as if she couldn't believe that he had dropped the matter so easily for her sake.

Orion shot her a tense, wan smile. "Meanwhile you can tell me why you decided that Luna should also be included in the Marking Ceremony. You must have read my mind. But we'll need to plan how we'll kidnap her from her father's house without him being the wiser." He made himself smile more widely and warmly, and gestured at her to follow. "Now come along, we have spells to cast on our respective manors!"

Calypso mutely stared at him, before a large grin spread over her face and she quickly made her way towards him.

* * *

The moment Orion's feet landed on stone steps, he flexed his arm and rubbed the place where Calypso had been grabbing him so tightly mere seconds ago to side-along apparate him in front of Rosier Manor.

They had successfully casted the Fidelius Charm on Potter Manor and Dobby had already been sent to personally hand, or send by public owl, letters addressed to Remus, Snape, Sirius and the Elite. They were short missives written by Calypso, his Secret Keeper, with one sole sentence: 'Potter Manor is located in Druids' Path number three, Wiltshire'. And with that, given that Orion had already adjusted the Manor's wards time ago, the letters' recipients would be able to see Potter Manor, locate it, and apparate inside.

At present, they only had to do similarly for Rosier Manor, in which case Orion would be the Secret Keeper. And he would have to write missives for the Elite and also for the whole of the DA, with the simple text of: 'The Dark Army's Headquarters can be found in Rosier Manor, located in Druids' Path number eleven, Wiltshire'.

Orion still found it very amusing that all pureblood families had decided to build their splendid, lavish manors in the same wizarding county. Indeed, he knew that Malfoy Manor was nearly in the midpoint between Rosier and Potter Manor. It was as if their ancestors had wanted to outmatch each other by building their homes in the same spot, to prove by close comparison which was grander.

Though he still wondered why the Blacks didn't have a manor in England. He had once asked Arcturus' portrait, but the stern wizard had leveled at him such a dark glare that Orion hadn't dared to ask again. Given Arcturus' reaction, he secretly suspected that one of his Black ancestors had lost a Black Manor in Wiltshire in a wizarding card game bet. It wouldn't surprise him at all that such a manor could have been lost to another wizarding family and then renamed and re-warded. His ancestors had had many sorts of vices, from what he had managed to glean from Phineas' tight-lipped portrait a long time ago.

Orion gazed at the manor in front of him with deep interest, since it was the first time he had ever seen it. Rosier Manor was enormous. It was certainly the largest manor he had ever seen, larger than Malfoy Manor, even, but it looked derelict and it wasn't remotely as ostentatious, beautiful or ornate as the Malfoy's or even Black Manor in Moscow.

It had been abandoned sixteen years ago, when Calypso was a baby, and he could see huge scorch marks on its large, ornate entrance door. Moreover, the whole front of the manor looked as if had been bombed by a volley of spells, and one of its turrets was completely destroyed, merely a pile of stones and debris.

It was clear that when Alastor Moody had led his force of Aurors to break into Rosier Manor to capture Voldemort's right hand at the time, they had assaulted it with everything they had. Moody had certainly blown to smithereens Evan Rosier and he knew that Calypso's mother, who had stayed behind to help her brother in-law, hadn't fared any better.

He knew that Romulus never stepped into the manor willingly unless cajoled by Calypso, since the wizard couldn't cope with the memories of his dead wife and brother. But unlike her father, Calypso loved the manor and always tried to visit it whenever it was possible, surely to feel some ties to a mother and uncle she didn't remember.

Orion had often heard her saying that she wanted to repair it and bring it back to its former glory. Though now that he saw it, it was clear that a considerable fortune would have to be spent for that purpose, and the Rosiers were not wealthy enough for that. Not at present, at least. Much of the Rosier fortune, which had never been remotely as large as the Black's or Malfoy's, had been used by Evan Rosier to finance Voldemort's first rise.

Nevertheless, even though the manor itself was in a very bad shape, its incredibly vast grounds were breathtaking and well-kept. The gardens were overflowing with blossoming flowers all around, bushes and trees carefully trimmed, the never-ending lawn vibrantly green.

Orion grimaced, since he knew that the house-elves took special care to maintain the grounds spectacularly because Calypso's mother had been very fond of gardening. From what Calypso's father had told her, the manor's grounds had been Felicia Rosier's pride and joy, and soon, when the DA started having it's simulated battles here, most of it would be trampled on and destroyed.

"GET IN! Quick!" suddenly shrieked Calypso frenziedly.

Orion didn't have the chance to even blink before he was grabbed and forcefully propelled forwards. It happened in the bat of an eyelash: a beam of light struck somewhere close to his ear, missing him by mere inches; with a loud, reverberating 'bang!' the front door slammed open, he was pushed inside, and with a scream, Calypso waved her wand and the door slammed shut behind them.

"I didn't know! I didn't see him until now!" cried Calypso frantically, her breathing coming in fast, labored pants, her eyes looking wild.

"What the hell…" wheezed out Orion, recovering his breath before his gaze flickered to her. He jumped forwards and anxiously grabbed her arms, his eyes quickly roving all over her body. "Are you alright? Did anything hit you?!"

"No, no," said Calypso in between pants, slowly straightening up. "I'm fine."

Relieved, Orion exhaled, but in the next second he didn't even glance around the inside of the manor before going straight to one of the windows at either side of the entrance.

He saw it then in the distance: a young wizard standing at the other side of the manor's iron gates, and given the man's robes he could tell the wizard was an Auror.

"As we thought, they have been monitoring your manor, Scaly," said Orion through gritted teeth. He snapped his head around, and said urgently, "Lock down the wards!"

"I already did," said Calypso slowly, looking disheveled and still startled at being suddenly ambushed.

Orion felt quite the same, his heart still felt as if it was about to jump out of his throat.

Calypso joined his side to peer through the oval window, and she mumbled, "He looks as if he didn't know whether to stay there or apparate to inform his superiors of our presence here."

"We have to do it now, before more Aurors arrive," said Orion quickly, instantly grabbing hold of her left hand with his, while he raised his wand with his right hand.

She nodded and immediately did the same, and with their left hands interlaced and their wands held up, they started weaving their wands in the air as they chanted the incantations for the Fidelius Charm.

The moment a ribbon of purple light wrapped around Orion's body, binding him as Calypso's Secret Keeper, and thus ending the spell, a loud shrieking wail-like sound blasted all around them.

Calypso's eyes widened as she gasped, and Orion soothingly squeezed her hand and said softly, "It's one of the Aurors' monitoring charms breaking and alerting them that you've done a Fidelius, Scaly. We knew it would happen. Now make sure again that all the wards have the manor and the grounds secured in a complete lock down."

She jerkily nodded and swiftly closed her eyes, an expression of utmost concentration spreading over her face. In a few seconds she slowly opened her eyes and said deeply reassured, "Everything is alright."

"Good," breathed out Orion. He carded his fingers through his hair and shot her a lop-sided self-reproaching smile, "He caught me unawares. Sorry for that. I didn't even see him. I was admiring your gardens."

"Idiot," said Calypso, grinning at him. "You don't have to be sorry for anything. I wasn't on guard either."

"Yet you saved my hide," interjected Orion, his smile widening warmly.

Calypso waved a hand dismissively and he shot her another grateful smile before he reached the oval window by the entrance once again, to silently contemplate the Auror standing on the road. The young wizard was frantically glancing all around him, now clearly unable to see the manor or the gates in front of his nose. The man still looked uncertain as to what to do, but in the next second he disappeared in an apparition, surely to report back.

"Poor fool," said Orion with a nasty chuckle, "his boss is going to flay him alive. We won't be seeing him again, that's certain. He's going to be doing Azkaban duty for a while after this. If he had stayed standing there, the other Aurors would have been able to locate him and thus find Rosier Manor. With him gone, they won't ever find it again thanks to the Fidelius."

Calypso flashed him with a dazzling cheerful grin. "It's our luck that they sent an inexperienced Auror to surveil my manor."

"Sure is," said Orion, shooting her a smirk. "Well, the job is done. We can go back to Potter-"

"Oh no!" chirped Calypso merrily, grabbing his arm, pulling him along with her. "I'm going to give you the grand tour of Rosier Manor. There's much I want to show you. And you must meet Nana at long last! She's dying to know you."

"Ah, the famed Nana," said Orion airily, quickly trailing after so that his shoulder wouldn't get dislocated due to her tight grasp on his arm . "I can't believe she hasn't kicked the bucket yet-"

"You prat!" gasped out Calypso, while she viciously punched him in the arm, as if he had said something sacrilegious, though she didn't stop from pulling him forwards after her. "I owe her my life-"

"I know," said Orion mollifyingly, masking his amusement at seeing her so giddily happy to show him around the manor and finally introducing him to her most beloved house-elf.

Though, he had to admit to himself that he was looking forward to meeting Nana. It had been rare and scarce times when Calypso had told him about the house-elf, and he knew that it was partly because speaking of Nana was both painful to her yet also important given the place that the old house-elf had gained in her heart.

Nana had been Rosier family's nursing house-elf for over three centuries. The legendary creature had seen the birth of practically every Rosier during that time, bringing them up as a mother would during their childhoods. She had been the nursing maid of Calypso's mother and her grandmother before that, and likewise with Romulus and Evan Rosier. And more importantly, she had been the house-elf to whom Felicia Rosier had trusted with her baby, making Nana go through the floo with a baby Calypso just moments before Moody and his Aurors broke into Rosier Manor.

Thus, Nana had been Calypso's savior and had played an important part during her childhood. And he knew that Calypso had always missed Nana during Durmstrang and even before that, because the house-elf had returned to Rosier Manor as soon as it was safe after Voldemort had first been felled, since the creature had refused to abandon the Rosier's ancestral home. It was only when Calypso managed to convince her father to spend some days in Rosier Manor during the holidays when Calypso was able to see the house-elf again.

"Going up there you would reach the family wing of my mother's branch of the Rosier line," said Calypso proudly as she tugged him along with her, gesturing at a dusty and cracked stairway missing several steps, which clearly had once been grand and imposing and which now looked gloomy and hazardous.

Orion had no doubt that if he put a toe on its first step the whole thing would crumble under him.

"It's a pity that we cannot go to that wing of the manor," continued Calypso with a dejected sigh. "My father once told me that my mother's branch of the family had the most beautiful wing of Rosier Manor, but I'm forbidden to go there. Father locked the wing with wards because it's not safe. Apparently the Aurors' attack particularly destabilized the foundations of that part of the manor."

Orion nodded at her, feeling a frisson of compassion for her, since he knew that there was nothing Calypso would rather see than her mother's childhood rooms and her things.

While she proudly showed him gloomy room after room of the eastern wing of the manor, Calypso continued her cheerful ramblings, "As you know, we Rosiers have never been truly wealthy." She turned her head around to glance at him and winked. "Supposedly there's a curse in the family because one of my ancestors was cursed by a gypsy he tried to trick. Rosiers are cursed to die young, and to never be wealthy." She shook her head with amusement. "I've never believed it, though Nana does and she always fusses about me, worrying that someday I will be struck down by the Rosier Curse."

Calypso rolled her eyes with fondness. "I've never met a house-elf so superstitious as Nana." She clicked her tongue and pulled him towards another dusty and abandoned room. "Anyway, the point is that we've never been wealthy enough to have each branch of the family become independent from the main line. So no Rosier has ever built a separate manor for his family, or changed their family name to found a new line, like most pureblood lines of other houses did ages ago."

She widely gestured around her, and said proudly without a hint of embarrassment, "Hence, since we've always been 'poor' by pureblood standards, Rosier Manor has always housed every single Rosier."

"I think it's a wonderful tradition, regardless if it was brought upon by necessity," said Orion sincerely. "I think of nothing better than having my whole family living together in the same manor. Sons, daughters, grandchildren, in-laws, everyone!" He warmly smiled at her, and added resolutely, "When my time comes to form a family -and I want a very large one!- I'll do the same and establish a new tradition for the Black line."

She shot him a bright, wide smile. "I will do the same. Dad used to tell me that when he was a boy, Rosier Manor was so filled with cousins, aunts and uncles, and all sorts of relatives, that he felt as if he lived in a pixie coop." She chuckled under her breath. "He never admitted that he loved it, but I know he did."

Calypso halted and wickedly grinned at him. "Indeed, if it wasn't for our lack of fortune my dad would have never married my mother. As you know my mum was my father's cousin thrice removed, and thanks to the need of having all Rosiers under one roof, they both grew up together."

She shot him a smug, proud smirk. "Mum was first intended for Uncle Evan, but when she was a teenager she fell in love with my father and refused to marry anyone else. She was thirteen when she firmly informed everyone in the manor that she would marry my dad or die an old maid! She caused quite an uproar, from what my dad told me. She even threatened to become a muggle nun if she was refused!"

She pulled him into another room, as she continued with a ringing chuckle in her voice, "In the end no one dared to oppose her decision to marry dad as soon as she was of age, and ultimately everyone was happy because it was the first love match in the family in a very long time. My dad had always been wrapped around my mum's little finger since they were little children, so he was more than happy to marry her the second she turned seventeen."

Suddenly, she halted and pointed upwards as she murmured quietly, "That's her. She was breathtaking, wasn't she?"

Orion blinked, finally realizing that Calypso had pulled him into a vast room which looked like some kind of library and study. The walls were covered by wood panels filled with shelves with dusty old tomes, and it was sparsely furnished with some couches and round tables here and there, with a large desk pushed against a wall, dominating most of the room since it was the only piece of furniture which displayed ornateness and grandeur.

The room felt cozy and welcoming, even though it had every sign of being abandoned time ago, as the rest of the manor. Yet, a shiver ran down his spine when he saw that many parts of the paneled walls bore scorch marks, with sharp splinters jutting out. And he could have bet his life that the dark stains ingrained in the cracks of the stone floors were blood stains that no house-elf had managed to rub out or spell clean.

At last, his gaze trailed up the fireplace until it reached the large portrait Calypso was pointing at, and his eyes widened as he saw the face of a beautiful young-looking witch who must have been Felicia Rosier. Indeed, Calypso's mother had been a beauty of dark eyes and wavy black, glossy hair, yet part of her portrait's left side of the face was melted, the oil paint having dripped down and later condensed. It made the woman's face look warped and deformed, though he could still see Felicia's beauty when he solely focused his sight on the right side of the portrait's face.

"Some spell hit the portrait, damaging it, and it lost of all its magical properties," murmured Calypso, her eyes riveted on the still portrait. "That's why it's lifeless, why it doesn't move or speak." She gestured at the empty hearth. "And that's the fireplace through which Nana took me through the Floo."

She glanced around, her expression speculative. "This was Uncle Evan's study and where he kept all the plans, books and documents that the Dark Lord had entrusted to him. It was here where my mum and Uncle Evan confronted the Aurors." Her gaze flickered back to the damaged portrait. "And this is the only portrait of my mum. I've always wondered why my Uncle had it in his study, and why my father allowed it after he married my mum."

Her forehead crinkled pensively, and she added quietly, "I've always thought that Uncle Evan must have loved my mum, and that dad knew it. But they were very close so I don't think they ever fought because of it. It was my mum's decision which brother to marry, after all, and they must have accepted her choice without any ill-will towards each other."

Orion didn't say anything, not wanting to break her contemplation, but suddenly Calypso grabbed his arm once more, as she said excitedly, "I have only one more place to show you before you meet Nana! You'll like it."

He was dragged along endless hallways until they climbed down a spiraling staircase which led them to the manor's dungeons. But he barely had the time to glance at his surroundings before Calypso pulled him to the very end of the dungeon's narrowed, damp corridor.

At last, they stood in front of a stone wall, which was completely blank with the exception of an inconspicuous, empty torch-holder. Orion shot Calypso a puzzled frown, but she utterly ignored him, her lips curving upwards as if she was secretly laughing about something. She raised her left hand, and in one swift motion she impaled it through one of the sharp spikes of the torch-holder.

Orion was about to pull her back and shout at her, when he saw the wall before him suddenly fold open silently, stones shifting over each other, without a sound rearranging themselves to form an arch through which he could see a vast room filled with objects glittering in glass cases, some in display, others piled and stacked one over the other. The whole secret room which had been concealed behind the wall seemed to blast off dark magic, coming from the treasures it held but also from its very walls. And his jaw hung agape.

"You never beeped a word about having a Heir's Linchpin!" gasped out Orion with wide eyes, his entranced gaze riveted on the room.

Calypso sniggered under her breath, and shot him a smug smirk. "I didn't want to rub it in before I could show it to you and personally enjoy your envy. You Blacks have always kept your heirlooms in your vaults at Gringotts, and the Potters as well, it seems, since you've never found one." Her smirk widened, and she added in a good-natured singsong, "You're disgustingly rich, but you don't have this."

Orion shot her a mild glare before he quickly crossed the arch, as he said over his shoulder, "Just you wait until I claim the Grindelwald estates! I'm sure Gellert not only has a vault in wizarding Berlin's Gringotts branch but also that his manor has one of these!"

Once he reached the middle of the chamber, he glanced around with fascination. It wasn't only that a Heir's Linchpin withheld all heirlooms and dark artifacts collected and amassed by a dark wizarding pureblood family, but also that such secret chambers were usually heavily warded beyond comparison to anything else. From what he had read in textbooks, such chambers secretly built in the foundations of a manor served as the most secure place in which a family could ensconce themselves in case of attack.

Supposedly, they were built and endlessly layered with spells and wards to make them impregnable and to sustain anyone hiding in them for a very long while, years even. He had always suspected that such chambers had to work like Hogwarts' Room of Requirements, producing any necessity required for a long stay. Though unlike the Room of Requirements, a Heir's Linchpin could also produce food – Merlin knew how, he had never found a book which explained it. Though, wizarding architects surely knew the secret since they were the ones who were paid fortunes to construct such things.

Neverthless, Rosier Manor's Heir's Linchpin was at present nothing but a vast room holding countless of heirlooms and dark artifacts. By his estimation, Orion knew that Calypso could amass a great fortune if she sold even half of the treasures, yet he realized that she would rather die than lose her line's heirlooms.

For a moment he wondered why Calypso's mother and uncle hadn't fled to the room the second they knew Aurors had breached the manor, but he instantly realized the reason. Evan Rosier had stayed in the study to protect the plans and whatever else Voldemort had entrusted to him, and Calypso's mum had stayed with her brother-in-law to help him against the Aurors, given that Romulus Rosier had been out of the country at the time.

It deeply saddened him, knowing that both of them could have lived if it wasn't for Evan Rosier's unfailing loyalty towards Voldemort, but it soon flew out of his mind when his gaze caught sight of something innocently leaning against a wall.

"Is that a magic carpet?!" breathed out Orion with round eyes.

"Yup," piped in Calypso, side-glancing at him while she shot him a wide, taunting smirk.

"So not fair," grumbled Orion, instantly taking two steps to caress the carpet, feeling its magic tingling under his fingertips. "I've always wanted one of these but it's impossible to find one nowadays."

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist," said Calypso with a roll of her eyes. "I can hardly use it. Light wizards made them illegal." She grimaced and added under her breath, "And I wouldn't use it even if it was legal, anyway – I hate to fly. Though I suppose it's better than any broom, at least more comfortable for someone like me."

Orion was still adoringly caressing the magic carpet when Calypso placed a hand on his shoulder, chuckling. "Don't pout like a child who has been told that he would receive no presents for Christmas." She conspiratorially winked at him. "If you're a good boy I'll give it to you as a coming of age present."

Orion snapped his head around, his eyes large and gleaming. "Really?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "It's not a heirloom and you would enjoy it much more than I ever would. Father surely wouldn't oppose it."

Orion shot her a warm, grateful smile, but then frowned and said firmly as he withdrew his hand from it, "Thanks, but don't give it to me. It's your family's and I'm only coveting it because they're so rare and unique. I have no real use for it either. I have my broom."

Calypso quirked an eyebrow, but she said nothing while she grabbed his hand to pull him out of the room.

After the chamber close itself behind the wall when she spilled her blood on the torch-holder once again, she dragged him up towards the first floor of the manor while she said quietly, "I didn't show you the Heir's Linchpin to brag. Now that you know where it is, you can use it if you ever have the need to do so-"

"But I can't," interrupted Orion, shooting her a frown. "They only open to someone of the bloodline-"

"And to any house-elf who has been keyed to it," interjected Calypso, her expression grim and serious. "Nana will be able to open it for you if my father or I are not around. Rosier Manor has not only become the DA's headquarters but also a hiding place you should use if it ever comes to that. You cannot always count on Potter Manor remaining undiscovered by Voldemort or the light wizards. I want you and Draco to have somewhere else you can go to."

Her words sounded very ominous to him and he fleetingly wondered what scenario she was imagining in her mind and why. Nevertheless, Orion nodded and saw the relief that swept across her face when she smiled at him.

He remained silent until Calypso stopped in front of a door, a large grin spreading over her face. She quickly glanced at him and said under her breath, "Now be good to Nana. If she doesn't like you she won't help you - ever. She's very particular."

Orion shot her an incredulous glance, but he had no chance to say anything since in the next second Calypso opened the door and pushed him inside. He almost tripped before he regained his balance, and he glanced around, startled. The room looked like… well, a nursery, he supposed, though he had never seen one in any wizarding home, or muggle one, at that, since he had never been kept in a nursery with the Durleys, his cupboard had served as such.

But the room in which he found himself was clearly used for that purpose given that the first thing he saw was an elaborate, beautiful white crib in the middle of the room, with things dangling above it, and with some sort of transparent lacy veil hanging like vapory curtains around it. Furthermore, there were small chests and dressers lined along the walls, with an endless array of stuffed animals, dolls and toys on top of them, impeccably ordered and looking as new as the first time they had been bought.

As his eyes flickered about the room, he caught sight of the walls covered by wizarding pictures of sleeping, gurgling or softly snoring babies. He blinked when he saw the small golden labels under every single small portrait, and soon found the one with Calypso's name on it, as well as some others with Romulus, Evan, or Felicia Rosier's names, respectively. All the other names didn't ring a bell, but all the babies were certainly Rosiers.

Apparently, the room had served as the nursery for every single baby born in Rosier Manor. And given that the every inch of the walls were covered by baby portraits, without leaving a single empty spot, he concluded not only that the Rosier line had been a very prolific one when it came to popping out babies, but also that they certainly had a very bad luck since Calypso and her dad were the only ones left of the line. Gypsy curse or not, Rosiers seemed to die as fast as they seemed to reproduce.

Orion felt a weird twist of apprehension in the pit of his stomach, deepened by the fact that the room seemed to cause in him a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he had seen it before, which certainly wasn't the case. But there was something strangely familiar about the room that he couldn't quite put his finger on…

A discrete clearing of the throat suddenly yanked him away from his troubled musings, and he glanced at Calypso. She pointedly flickered her gaze away from him, and he followed it, and then she saw her.

The creature in front of Calypso was the most tiny, old and wrinkled little thing he had ever laid eyes on. He had always believed that Kreacher must be the oldest house-elf in existence, and he had clearly been mistaken. Nana won the price for that.

The tiny creature, shrunk half a house-elf's natural size surely due to her unimaginable old age, was fixedly staring at him with such stern scrutiny that he couldn't help but slightly squirm under her sharp gaze. He felt like a potion ingredient being inspected under a lense, like someone meeting his mother-in-law for the first time, or something of the sort. It was a bizarre situation he had never found himself in.

He opened his mouth to say something, but instantly shut it close again, without knowing what he was supposed to say. To his dismay, he found the old, tiny little thing to be quite intimidating. Yet, he squarely met her piercing, deeply wrinkled eyes, and kept his silence, since even Calypso seemed to stand tensely by his side. Though he couldn't quite believe that a house-elf was measuring him up to see if he passed muster.

"He is good enough," said the creature, her voice sounding firm and strong, completely in contrast to her frail, withered appearance. Her eyes flickered to Calypso. "Young Mistress's friend is accepted."

He heard Calypso exhaling with relief by his side, and he nearly shot her a disbelieving glance that she had been holding up her breath during the whole time concerned by the house-elf's judgment, as if the tiny thing had the last ruling word on matters of life and death. Yet he stopped from doing so when Nana's gaze swiveled back to him, a toothless crooked smile suddenly stretching on her lips.

"Yes, the Black boy will do, Nana decided," said the house-elf, her gums showing as her smile widened.

"Er… do for what?" mumbled Orion, blinking at the strange creature.

"Don't question her," hissed Calypso under her breath, digging her elbow into his ribs.

"Ouch, stop that!" snapped Orion, glaring at her as he rubbed his side, sure that a large bruise was already forming. Calypso's punches and elbowings were vicious things. "I think I'm bloody entitled to know what I'm supposed to be good enough for, aren't I?"

"Children, behave," commanded the house-elf sharply, leveling at both of them a very hard, reprimanding glance. She suddenly jumped forward with hitherto unsuspected speed and energy, and grabbed his hand with both of her wrinkled, gnarled ones. "I is Nana. And Nana happy to meet Orion Black. You is good enough to be Nana's young Mistress's friend and companion."

Orion stared at the tiny thing, before a wide, warm grin broke on his face. "Well, thank you for that positive appraisal. I'm happy to meet you too, at last."

Nana shot him her toothless, crooked smile, before she seemed to lose all interest in him as her gaze focused back on Calypso, the scrutinizing gleam back in her eyes. "What has young Mistress been eating? How many hours is you sleeping, child? Tell Nana your usual schedule and young Master's-"

"Oh, don't fuss, please," interjected Calypso, clearly suppressing a groan and a roll of her eyes.

But no matter how much Calypso complained, Nana plunged forwards with a barrage of demanding questions, and Orion disconnected his hearing as soon as he heard the words 'toilet', 'how many times' and 'what color'. There were things about Calypso he certainly didn't want to know about.

Calypso looked more mortified with each passing second, and he sniggered under his breath, which earned him a lethal glare from her.

"She'll be the same with you now that she likes you," hissed Calypso under her breath, while Nana's never-ending questions floated all around them, before she glanced back at the house-elf and reluctantly continued answering the creature's inquiries about her daily ablutions.

"Who's 'young master'?" whispered Orion, still watching their interaction with deep amusement.

"My father," replied Calypso when Nana paused to catch her breath before plowing forward with her cross-examination. She snickered, and added in a low whisper, "She still treats dad as if he was a misbehaving little runt. It drives Father nuts."

Nana broke off in the middle of a question, apparently her hearing not at all diminished since she snapped briskly, "Your father is still a boy, young Mistress."

"To you everyone's a child because you're ancient, Nana," said Calypso with a roll of her eyes.

"Ancient and wiser than anyone else, young Mistress," quipped the house-elf, shooting Calypso a pointed glance. "So Mistress will do well to do as Nana says."

"Yes, Nana," said Calypso with a weary sigh. "But you can see that I am well. My health is perfect."

The house-elf's eyes narrowed to slits, her gaze roving over Calypso, putting her under a detailed inspection. Suddenly, she nodded sharply, and declared firmly, "Young Mistress is well. Tell young Master Nana wants to see him next."

"There's a muggle's chance in a Death Eater raid that my father would ever come to see you to tell you about how many times he goes to the loo," muttered Calypso under her breath, her tone clearly implying that she wished she could escape Nana's health evaluations as easily as Romulus clearly did.

"Nana is old, not deaf, young Mistress," said the house-elf sharply, piercing Calypso with a hard, commanding gaze. "Young Mistress will make sure young Master comes to Nana."

"Yes. I promise," said Calypso abruptly brightening, her expression one of devious anticipation to put her father through the same thing she had just been subjected to. "I will bring him tomorrow. He won't escape you this time, Nana."

"Good, child, good. Nana will be happy," said the house-elf, smiling toothlessly.

Calypso widely grinned and bent down to plant a kiss on the tiny creature's wrinkled cheek. "I will see you again soon, Nana."

Nana's eyes moistened and she stood on the tips of her feet, wobbling, as she reached out to lovingly pet the top of Calypso's bent head. "Young Mistress is a good child. Always makes Nana happy. Take good care, for your Nana's sake."

"I will," said Calypso fondly, before she quickly grabbed Orion's hand and started to pull him towards the nursery's door.

"You too take good care, of you and my young Mistress," called out Nana after them.

Orion nodded at her over his shoulder, barely managing to shoot the amusing house-elf a smile before he was pushed through the threshold.

Calypso quickly closed the door shut after them, slumped against it, and loudly exhaled. "At last. I survived." She cleared her throat, straightened to her full height, and said stoically, as if she had managed to finally recover her dignity after her mortification, "Well, that was Nana for you. And she will clearly help you out if you ever need it."

Orion was deeply tempted to forever taunt her with what had just happened, but he thought about it twice when Calypso shot him a vicious glance, which clearly indicated that she knew what he had on his mind and that she also had vast amounts of ammunition to use against him.

Indeed, she looked quite ready for battle, even to dish out more than he could take. In the end, he wisely decided to forego the pleasure of taunting Calypso with Nana-related gibes for the sake of his own pride and dignity.

* * *

Orion glanced around his gloomy, impoverished surroundings, alert and on guard, ready for anything that could come his way. Thankfully, he saw no one at the outskirts of the dismal muggle town he had apparated into. Nothing moved, and the only sounds he could hear were those coming from a dingy, small factory nearby.

Nevertheless, he kept his face shrouded underneath the hood of his cloak and his hand tight around the wand in his pocket, as he took the steps towards the front door of the ugly little house.

He knocked twice on the door, and awaited tensely, his eyes constantly glancing around for any sign of movement. He was in quite a hurry to get in the house and fulfill his last task of the day.

His trunk was already packed with everything he would need for his one month stay in Zraven Citadel, he had left Calypso with detailed and precise instructions about everything she had to do and regarding every eventuality, he had given her the two-way mirror Daisy had found in Draco's robes and he had the other. Furthermore, he had already dispatched Dobby to once more deliver a set of letters, these ones pertaining to Rosier Manor's location.

Now he only had to inform this wizard that he was leaving, and he would be done for the evening. And just in time, since the skies were already darkening and it would be two hours later in Romania. He would pop into Zraven Citadel just when every inhabitant would already be on their feet for the night.

Suddenly, he gripped his wand harder and his eyes quickly swiveled back to the house when he felt magic trickling down on him. But he relaxed in the next second when he realized that it was the house's wards sweeping over him. Gratefully, it looked as if he was still keyed to them, since he had no doubt that something very nasty would have happened to him otherwise.

Abruptly, the door cracked open, but he could see nothing through the gloomy darkness of the room behind it except a large crooked nose poking out from the door slightly kept ajar, along with the tip of a wand straightly aimed at him. Yet, he didn't lower his hood. He simply tilted his head up a bit, so that some light struck him and his face could be seen.

"What did you steal from me and never returned?" demanded a caustic, sharp voice, sounding as if it came from the depths of the house.

Orion huffed, and said crisply, "I didn't steal your seventh year Potions text book, Severus. I found it by mere chance during my fourth year at Hogwarts, and I made a copy of it and gave that to you. Surely you're still not sour about it?! Now open up, I'm not a polyjuiced Auror after your sallow hide, and I'm in a hurry."

"You never returned the original, you impudent brat!" snarled Snape, slightly opening the door a bit more, apparently to let him in.

"Aren't you in a cheery disposition," drawled Orion sarcastically, as he pushed his way through since the wizard had barely given him enough space to slid inside.

Once he was in the main room of Spinner's End, he turned around when Snape closed the door with a bang, the wizard's black eyes narrowed and piercing.

"What do you want?" bit out Snape shortly, his foul mood evident in his expression and tone of voice.

"Why, thank you, I'm very well this fine evening," said Orion mockingly. "And how have you been? As cheerfully peachy as ever, I see-"

"I'm busy, boy!" hissed out Snape acidly. "So spare me your inane chatter and pathetic attempts at wit and tell me why you're imposing your unbearable presence in my home."

Orion quirked an eyebrow, and inspected the wizard closely, seeing the tired expression on the man's gaunt face and the dark circles under the eyes. "My, it seems that you do have a valid reason to be so snarky, for once. What have you been up to?"

"Out!" snarled Snape, grabbing Orion's arm and forcefully pulling him towards the door. "Get out at once-"

"I came to see how you were doing and to tell you I'm leaving for Zraven Citadel tonight!" shouted Orion angrily, tugging his arm backwards, trying to break free from the wizard's vise-like grip.

"Good riddance!" spat Snape, nearly about to push him through the front door. "Hopefully the leeches will suck you dry and do me the favor of getting rid of a half-brained pest-"

Abruptly, a deafening 'BOOM!' exploded throughout the house, rattling bookcases, tables, chairs and floors, and Orion almost lost his balance when Snape briskly let go of him. The most astounding string of profanities flew from Snape's lips, and in the next blink of Orion's eyes he only saw the hem of the wizard's billowing black robes disappearing around the corner which led to the house's only corridor.

Gripping a wall for support, Orion slowly straightened up, his ears ringing while he still felt not only manhandled but severely jostled around. He quickly regained his bearings and chased after the wizard, wondering what was going on and deeply curious.

He instantly found Snape by following the sound of the wizard's voice, which still kept spitting out such curse words he had never heard from the Potions Master. The moment he stepped into the small room, he blinked as he glanced around, his eyebrows shooting upwards. Orion had never seen the potions labs that Snape had set in his house looking so ghastly, though it was clear that the mess in which the room was in had been caused by a brew which had exploded in a cauldron.

There were green globs dripping from every inch of the walls and ceilings, puffs of red thick smoke clogging the windowless space, cracked cauldrons rolling over the floor, the wooden table was splintered down its middle, and ladles, damaged potions ingredients and shards of broken potion vials littered the floor. In the midst of it all, Snape was snarling angrily, quickly waving his wand as he started to put back everything in order.

Orion merely stood by the threshold, covering his mouth and nose with a hand, and waiting it out until the wizard was done.

"Ruined, because you decided to pay me a most unwelcomed visit, because you self-centeredly wasted my time instead of getting out of my house when I told you!" spat Snape furiously, glaring at him with a murderous expression on his face, while he cleared the air with another flick of his wand. "Ungrateful, egotistical brat! It took me months to reach this brewing stage of the potion and now it's lost. You single-handedly delayed my progress for months because you-"

"I didn't know you were brewing!" snapped Orion sharply. "If you had told me that, then I would have left instantly." He crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at him mutinously. "It was your fault as much as mine. And now the damage is done, so there's no point in me leaving. So you might as well put up with me and tell me what you were brewing."

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits, and he hissed out sourly, "If you persist in forcing your presence on me, then make yourself useful or I won't hesitate in transforming you into a flobberworm and use your parts as potion ingredients!"

Orion shot him a triumphant grin, and jumped into action, casting cleaning and repairing spells along-side the wizard. After a very long hour, part of which they spent manually putting things into place and sorting damaged ingredients from the ones which had miraculously survived unscathed, they finally finished.

Rubbing his forehead tiredly, Orion glanced around the once again impeccable potions lab, and then checked his wristwatch, becoming dismayed when he saw how much time had passed by.

His patient good mood instantly vanished, and he leveled Snape with a hard gaze as he said crisply, "Will you tell me now what you were brewing?"

"I don't see why I should," said Snape dourly, arching an eyebrow scathingly. "I doubt your puny little brain could follow any brewing explanation I could give you in the simplest terms."

Orion clenched his jaw and gritted out, "I might not be very adept at brewing but I know and comprehend the theory of potion-making better than anyone in my year with the exception of Calypso. I will understand anything you might say regarding any bloody potion, Severus!"

"Highly doubtful," sneered Snape acidly, waving dismissively at him. "Now go away to visit your little amnesiac halfbreed."

"You're such an unmitigated bastard," hissed out Orion furiously, stepping to stand almost nose-to-nose with the wizard. "I spent a whole hour to help you clean up your sodding lab –because I was feeling guilty for ruining your potion, of all things!- delaying to see Lezander, the event I've been waiting and longing for, for months, and you choose to mock him and me after that?"

He narrowed his eyes at him, and knowing what would hurt the most, he added viciously, "You've always treated me awfully, and I've never complained because I know it's the way you usually are with everybody. But now you know that I was Regulus and you always treated him well – you cared for him, deeply. So I wonder why you haven't changed your attitude towards me."

Orion eyed the wizard closely, seeing a muscle jerkily twitching in Snape's jaw, the tension in the man's shoulders and the white knuckles of the wizard's fisted hands.

With a deep sense of satisfaction, he stretched his lips into a nasty smile. "You still treat me as the son of Sirius Black, as an ally to rein in Voldemort, as the best wizard you can support so that the Dark becomes more tolerant, moderate, and everything else you wish it could be. Yet you know that I'm much more than that. You know that your ties to me go much deeper than that."

His smile widened as he bore his eyes into Snape's, and he added in a soft murmur, "I'm the son of the woman you loved. I know you must see her every time you look into my eyes, exactly like hers. And I was your only best friend, the only one who approached you in Slytherin House without ever condemning you for your half-blood status – not even Lucius did that before you proved your potions skills. You'll do well to remember all that, and you'll do well to change your behavior towards me, Severus. There's so much I will put up with. I'm no longer a boy who needs you as badly as I did in the past. You're the one tethered to me, not the other way around."

"Quite," said Snape coolly, seemingly regaining his self-composed semblance.

Orion stared at him quizzically, and took a step back as he said nonchalantly, waving a hand, "I'm only asking you to treat me as a friend-"

"As Regulus, perhaps?" asked Snape blandly, arching an eyebrow.

"Why not?" said Orion, regarding him carefully. "I was him, after all. I remember everything about his life, as clearly as my own."

"So you will use the fact that you were once Regulus," interjected Snape impassively, "for your own purposes and manipulations?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't," said Orion, his eyes narrowing, slightly thrown off by the wizard's casual tone of voice. "Besides, I wasn't manipulating you. I was simply stating facts."

Snape's lips curved into a smile, and it was a vicious thing. "Very well."

Orion gazed at him with deep suspicion, since he knew that a victory over any dark wizard seemingly easily won shouldn't be trusted.

The Potions Master regarded him closely, and said blandly, "I don't think you clearly remember all what my friendship with Regulus entailed, boy."

"Meaning what?" said Orion crisply, staring scrutinizingly at the wizard.

"True friendships born in Slytherin House are not a simple, easy matter," said Snape, his lips twisting upwards. "There are no rainbows and sunshines – we are not Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs. Slytherins take as much as they give, and then some, from their closests friends, since we know what secrets of our friends we should use to gain what we want from them. We know where to squeeze to cause the most harm, to gain the upper hand over our friends."

Unfazed, Orion scoffed loudly. "Most Slytherins do that, I'm sure. But you didn't act like that with Regulus. You didn't gain anything when you helped me die, for instance."

"I rid the Dark Lord from his favorite pet," said Snape viciously, his eyes gleaming darkly. "I caused the Dark Lord harm, and I reveled in it. I already despised him by then."

Orion arched an eyebrow with utter calmness. "Maybe you want me to believe that Regulus didn't really matter to you so that I cannot use again the fact that I was him to make you do anything."

"Maybe," said Snape, his lips quirking upwards.

"If you're done with your little mind games," interjected Orion, shooting him a baleful, highly annoyed glare, "I would like to know what you've been doing before I leave."

"It was not I who started our… game," sneered Snape. He pinned him with narrowed eyes, and spat mordantly, "Never again attempt to use your mother's memory or your past life as Regulus, and we will not have the same problem twice."

"As long as you start treating me better," bit out Orion sharply, leveling a hard gaze at him. "If you missed my point, I'll make it plain enough for you. I have no use for a supporter who treats me like a child or a pest, and who shows me no respect. Change your tune or we're done."

"An ultimatum," said Snape coolly, arching an eyebrow. "Undoubtedly brought upon because you feel you've earned my friendship after all this time, and that you deserve my respect since you're hailed as the co-leader of the Dark – the 'Lord Black'."

"Among other things, yes," said Orion firmly, pinning him with his gaze.

Snape's lips twisted upwards, before he abruptly stalked to a corner of the potions lab, apparently to unlock a small cabinet at the corner, since the wizard was now waving his wand at it.

And Orion regarded him with a small frown on his face. If he knew anything now, it was that the wizard was still a complex man he hadn't been able to fully unravel yet. He would remember that he should never take Snape and the wizard's true motives for granted. Indeed, he felt now, more than ever, that he would always have to tread carefully with the man, and learn which strings could be pulled to make Snape move in the direction he desired. All feelings of fondness for the man to a side, Snape could be dangerous and tricky and he should never forget it.

Orion silently contemplated Snape as the wizard made his way back to him holding something in his hands. And he realized that the crux of the matter was that Snape truly didn't have a side but his own, since both the Light and Dark sides had failed him in many ways and the wizard despised how they were currently. The Potions Master was a double-edged sword in his hand.

When Snape finally reached him, Orion glanced at the book in the wizard's hand, and then gazed back at the man, incredulously. "That's the book I gave you for Christmas – the translation I wrote for you of Slytherin's research journals." He leveled him with a furious glare, and gritted out, "Are you telling me that the potion you were working on was one of Slytherin's and you've been stupidly refusing to tell me that? To me, who gave you the bloody translation in the first place, Severus?! What was the sodding point-"

"The potion I was brewing is my own variation of one of Salazar's potions," snarled Snape acerbically. "I'm attempting to improve his tests regarding the crosses between different types of magical blood, not to idiotically follow brewing instructions centuries out of date, you dim-witted imbecile!"

"Merlin's knickers, I can't believe I wasted my time here just for this!" spat Orion, shooting him a dark glare. "Next time inform me beforehand that you have nothing solid or interesting to report about your research. No, better yet, just let me know when you've succeeded with the whole bloody research and when you're ready to publish incontrovertible results!"

With his brisk, quick, angered strides, he was reaching the door of the lab when his arm was forcefully gripped and he was yanked around by Snape, who had a thunderous expression on his face, a mix between fury, impatience and exasperation.

"What now?" snapped Orion with supreme irritation. "You wanted me gone, so I'm leaving!"

Snape intently speared him with narrowed eyes, seemingly coming to some sort of decision or other, and he flicked his wand. In the next second, a newspaper came flying through the door and smacked a startled Orion right on his face. With quick reflexes Orion grabbed it before it flittered down to the floor, and he shot Snape his nastiest glare, since the wizard was viciously smirking at him with dark amusement.

Orion brusquely shook the newspaper to make its pages snap straight, and then saw that it was the French wizarding newspaper 'Le Monde Magique'.

"Last page, first article in Nouvelles du Monde des Moldu," said Snape shortly.

Orion shot him a narrowed glance, before he reached the long article somehow squeezed in the small section the newspaper allotted to any important news of the muggle world. He flicked his wand at it, casting the translation spell Calypso had taught him some time ago to read foreign newspapers.

It took him just one glance at the article's first sentence to feel himself boiling with fury.

"Muggles celebrate the one year anniversary of a sheep?!" spat Orion, waving the newspaper clutched in his fist in front of Snape's overlarge nose. "You must be joking, Severus. Why the fuck should I care if deranged muggle peasants are throwing cattle birthday parties?!"

"If you want me to treat you respectfully and like an adult," sneered Snape caustically, "then prove to me that you can refrain from blatantly displaying your idiocy for more than two consecutive minutes. Now read the whole article before shrieking like a half-brained imbecile!"

Orion shot him a frown, before he straightened out the crumbled newspaper and focused on reading the article fully. Soon, he plopped down on a stool, his eyes wide and his mind fast at work as he re-read the article once more, absorbing and trying to quickly comprehend everything he could.

"I don't understand," he muttered quietly at last, glancing up at Snape. He shook his head and carded his fingers through his hair. "I never heard about something like this during my time with the Dursleys, not on the telly or radio, not even at primary school."

"You wouldn't have," interjected Snape shortly, "it is a fairly new branch in muggle biological studies."

"Do you mean to tell me that you fully understand what this is about?" said Orion pointing at the article, his expression befuddled. "About this Dolly sheep to which they did this… er…" He quickly scanned the article again. "…this so-called cloning thing? And about this gene thing and DNA, and whatnot?"

"I've invested some of my time to look into it," said Snape acerbically. "Genetics seems to be a new branch that muggles are quickly developing since they're discovering many uses and applications for it."

"Yes, the articles says that these geneticist muggle people are primarily working in research labs financed by pharmaceutical companies," interjected Orion, searchingly gazing at him with a frown on his face. "But I don't see why this new field of their science interests you..." He trailed off, and gazed at him with wide, horrified eyes. "Surely you aren't thinking of learning about this genetics thing to use it to improve Slytherin's research, Severus! Magic and muggle Science doesn't mix-"

"That is the most ignorant and narrow-minded remark I've ever had the misfortune to hear from you," sneered Snape scathingly, narrowing his eyes at him.

"I was a half-blood just like you, Severus! I'm not spouting any kind of blind prejudice," snapped Orion briskly. "I'm only saying that wizards don't need Science to understand things or explain or validate anything! He have the purest and most natural understanding of matters. We do everything naturally with magic. Muggles are the crippled ones who have to resort to other things because they don't know about magic and cannot use it-"

"Given what I have learned," interrupted Snape sharply, "I believe it could be possible that there is a gene for the magical trait. If I am able to merge both my research with the use of potions with the application of genetics, then-"

"Then it wouldn't matter the slightest bit!" bit out Orion impatiently. "So what if there's a gene thing for our kind? Do you think our world would trust any research results based on muggle Science? No wizard would trust it, no wizard would understand. You must do your research employing wizarding knowledge, expanding on its foundations, which are vaster than anything muggle scientists claim to know. They managed to replicate a bloody sheep after years of research? Please!"

He scoffed scathingly. "With the flick of my wrist and my Necromantic abilities I, by all means, 'cloned' Gellert when I produced an exact, breathing and living replica of his body, and I could have plunged Gellert's soul into it as well. Let me see a blasted muggle scientist do that, and in a natural way!"

"Indeed, Orion Black is the paragon of magical power," sneered Snape viciously, "his abilities are to be revered and hailed by all others-"

"Oh, stuff it, Severus," snapped Orion with deep irritation. "I'm not bragging. I don't need to. I surpass everyone except one –for now- and you know it." He rose to his feet, and added sharply, "Go ahead and delve into this genetics thing if it amuses you and if you think it can help you to improve Slytherin's research. But keep in mind that you will have to document and publish your work to be read by wizards, and thus, it must be explained in wizarding terms and ultimately carried about by wizarding means. I short, magically, not with muggle stuff."

"I will need a considerable amount of galleons," said Snape curtly.

Orion gazed at him disbelievingly. "You're asking me to finance your pointless madness so that you can waste my galleons on what – muggle scientific equipment? You've lost your marbles." He waved the French newspaper at him. "It said their labs were funded by large pharmaceutical companies. It would take all my fortune to amount to such required funds when converted to muggle currency. I'm all for spending galleons in worthwhile endeavors but not to flush them down the toilet, and even less to invest my whole fortune in something that will generate no galleons back! I'm the Head of Black House, I'm planning on increasing the Black fortune, not lose it!"

He paused to force himself to calm down, and while he carded his fingers through his hair something struck him and he eyed the wizard quizzically. "Hang on. First tell me how you're expecting to learn all about genetics when the article said it took muggles ages to develop that branch of science. And they are still developing it, at that. It's at an infant stage according to the article. So how many years, if not decades, will it take you to learn everything pertinent you need to know about genetics in order to use it in your research?" He shook his head, and added resolutely, "It would be best if you employed all that time in wizarding research, expanding your own kind's knowledge."

Snape jeered at him. "Need I remind you that I'm a master in Legilimency?"

"Do I look like a fool?" said Orion scoffing. "Legilimency won't help you attain…" He broke off, and stared at the wizard with a flummoxed expression on his face, and then whispered faintly, "Unless you siphon out all of a muggle's memories..." He clamped his mouth shut, and then gritted out, "Right. I see. So you can kidnap one geneticist, rip out all his memories pertaining to his studies, and then learn from that, from already digested and comprehended information – which would take you much less time than studying the subject by yourself. Or perhaps you're thinking about using the Imperius Curse to make one of them come to you, to make him work for you or perhaps to steal his-"

"There are many possible ways for me to easily and safely attain the knowledge I require."

Orion stared at the wizard as if he had never seen him before, and he suddenly felt as if the floor had been yanked from his feet. Indeed, he suddenly felt quite ill. This was not Snape before him. Oh, it was him, alright, but the man was not himself. Snape would never even think to go to such dangerous lengths. The wizard was extremely careful in his every move.

The Potions Master would never contemplate to waltz in some hi-tech lab to kidnap a scientist - a muggle! Or to imperio one to make him work for him - such liabilities! Snape would never resort to something so blatant and unrefined. The wizard was a master spy, a genius in covert subtlety and sly machinations. Something was driving Snape to such lengths, and it sure as hell wasn't the wizard's own mind.

Yet, before they started discussing Snape's research, the wizard had been himself – he had no doubt about it. And the man was clearly not imperioed, his eyes weren't remotely foggy. No, something else had been done to Snape. But the only viable explanation that he could think of was that a compulsion mind web had been casted on the wizard. However, why would the Spirits or the Aux do such a thing? They would certainly have the same views as himself regarding the use of muggle Science for wizarding research. And Snape's research benefited the Spirits' aims – it benefitted the Dark.

Orion felt utterly out of his depth. He didn't have the slightest inkling of what was going on with Snape. He couldn't think of anyone who could have any reason to make Snape delve in this genetics thing. And someone like Snape, so proficient in Occlumency and Legilimency, would surely detect if a spell had been casted on his mind, wouldn't he?

Furthermore, he didn't dare to use his own Legilimency abilities, which were nothing compared to Snape's, to delve into the wizard's mind to see if something was amiss there. And even if he attempted to break whatever influence Snape was under, it would alert the person who had done it. Moreover, he knew too little to act so quickly, and thus stupidly.

Orion knew that in cases such as these, with nearly an utter lack of any clues and information, it was better to observe before tracing a plan of action. And letting Snape learn about genetics didn't represent any kind of threat. Indeed, it sounded vaguely interesting to him in purely academically way. His only problem with it was that he didn't want muggle Science to be used to explain wizarding matters, since in his opinion that would be a setback instead of a progress.

Wizarding kind should never depend on muggle knowledge for anything - that was one of the most important premises to keep their worlds safely apart. If they started merging knowledge, then it was the first step to start fusing their worlds…

Orion's eyes widened as a suspicion struck him, but he discarded it the next second. Certainly, it would benefit Arian's aims of uniting the muggle and wizarding worlds if the wizarding world started to accept and use muggle knowledge. But on the other hand, Snape's research would validate the Dark's long-held insistence on blood purity, so Arian couldn't be the one behind whatever had been done to Snape. Arian would want to halt Snape's research instead of making the wizard look into genetics, if he knew about it.

No, whoever was behind this was an unknown agent. There was no doubt in Orion's mind. And it made him inwardly groan with deep frustration and frazzled apprehension.

But he knew that for now he could do nothing but observe Snape's doings until more was revealed. He had no doubt that at some point he would have more clues. Nothing as big as this could escape him. And what Snape was being driven to do regarding learning genetics didn't constitute any threat, not any that he could see, except… Except in the case of discovery by muggles, and given that Snape's mind had been messed with, there was no knowing if the wizard was capable of being his usual covert, efficient self.

"Look," said Orion quietly, using all his considerable effort to remain calm and act as if he hadn't noticed that anything was amiss, "if you want to learn about genetics, then fine, do it. But before you even contemplate to kidnap a muggle scientist, imperio one, break into a muggle lab, steal their equipment, or anything remotely along those lines that crosses your mind, let me know." He pinned him with an intense gaze. "You will let me know and I'll help you. Deal?"

Snape pierced him with narrowed eyes, and said acerbically, "You have suddenly decided to help me?"

"Yes," replied Orion honestly. "I rather assist you in that than allow you to do it by yourself. It could be dangerous, you could be captured, and those labs are surely heavily guarded if their equipment is so bloody expensive and their research so important and profitable. So if the time comes, we will do it my way. In exchange, I want you to give me your Wizard's Oath that you won't act in this matter without me."

It was only after more heated discussions, disagreements and negotiations, that Orion finally managed to extract the Oath he wanted from Snape. And by the end of it, Orion simply wanted to rest for a very, very long time. Indeed, his mind couldn't be fuller or more preoccupied.

Besides all the other stuff he had to do, he would now have to keep an eye on Snape, and he would certainly have to learn more about the whole genetics matter. But there was no way he was adding the latter to his plate, he had enough.

He would have to delegate that task, but he could hardly saddle Calypso with one more thing since she was already looking into muggle religions, weaponry and warfare. And anyone else from the Elite would be useless. He had only managed to understand the article after rereading it several times, and he knew he had grasped it so quickly not only because it had been explained as simply as possible, but also due to his upbringing as a muggle. Orion knew what cells and simple stuff like that were in a general sense, he had learned such things in primary school, but any pureblood would have been utterly lost in the article without that base.

Therefore, he finally decided that there was no better person he could order to look into the genetics subject than Hermione Granger herself. The young witch was already reading Dumbledore's Treatise, which had much to do with Slytherin's research results, and she had the base of her muggle upbringing as well. She was just who he needed for the task of filling him in on the subject once she fully understood as much as she could about it.

Despite that that decision lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders, he still felt exhausted. And the war was just beginning. This was only the start. Just great. Orion grumbled under his breath as he disapparated as quickly as possible from Spinner's End.

* * *

The moment he landed on his bedroom in Potter Manor, he wasted no time except in taking a quick, revitalizing shower. While he impeccably dressed and groomed himself, he heard the voices and noises coming from the floor below - the Elite had arrived. But he didn't want to see them, he was tired, he felt harrassed by the multitude of things he had to do, and the only person he wanted to see was Lezander, to see how much the young vampire remembered, to determine how he could have him without giving anything or anyone else up, and to reaffirm his hopes that Lezander hadn't changed. And last but not least, he wanted to finally confront the Kraljica Mati and discover what she had to do with everything else.

Mingling with the Elite was the furthest thing in his mind at present, and he thought it pointless. He wasn't going to go through the Marking Ceremony if Calypso didn't participate, and that was it. He would do it once she was ready, he wouldn't leave his right-hand and most trusted and closest friend behind. And by Merlin that she better be willing to tell him what was going on with her by then.

Silently, Orion grabbed the handle of his trunk, looped the strap of the sheath carrying Gryffindor's Sword across one shoulder, and scrunched his eyes shut while he clearly pictured his destination.

And with a tightening around his body and a swirling rush of colors, he felt himself travelling through space in the blink of an eye, at long last, going to Zraven Citadel.


	34. The Kraljica Mati

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

I will answer to individual reviews posing questions, through the ffnet system when I post the next chappie. I know that I owe many of you replies for reviews of previous chapters, and I will work on it as soon as I can, I promise!

Now, I must point out that I incorporated the whole genetics things since it seemed to me as something Snape would be interested in after Orion made him work on Slytherin's research. And it's 1997 in the fic –since it follows canon timeline- so the Dolly news was there in the muggle world. And indeed, Genetics could explain everything regarding the crosses between different types of magical blood and about muggleborns and such, but it's not something I'm expecting to cover in my fic. For starters, such research in the genome of wizards would realistically take years if not decades, and my fic isn't covering that span of time. So don't expect Snape or anyone else to reach magnificent discoveries that will illuminate wizarding kind.

On the other hand, I must also point out that even if I think wizards would learn much from genetics, I don't think the same applies to other fields of science. Some of you mentioned that they should learn about muggles' Physics and Chemistry and such, but wizards already have their own fields of study for that type of thing. And they really don't need to know about the laws of molecular chemistry or atomic physics, and the like, when they can break Laws with every spell they use and do stuff not even Einstein himself could have explained with equations, unless he had been a wizard himself *winks*.

Anyway, I believe that wizarding kind has a different view and scope of things regarding what muggles call 'Science' and that they perfectly understand it in their way, with the use of magical knowledge and having developed their own fields of study. School subjects such as Transfiguration, Charms and Potions, to name some, indicate this. These subjects didn't spring out of nowhere: somewhere and sometime, many wizards had to study and research hard, develop magical knowledge and create spells to form such areas of knowledge. To create the levitation charm, for instance, wizards had to understand what muggles call physics, wouldn't they?

So I don't think wizards should be considered as being backwards in that regard at all when compared to muggles.

In Rowling's books we saw nothing even hinting about serious research in the magical world, only a hint of what the Unspeakables must do. And in my fic, I tried to hint there was much more, that wizards have studied matters of the Earth, Universe and such with their own fields of study – like what the Covenant of Alchemists must do, and the Guild, for example. So you should imagine that there are many other organizations studying other fields even if I don't go into it. At least that's what I imagine for a 'realistic' wizarding world.

**Note: **This chapter is mostly a lot of dialogue, as will be the next one, so don't expect action – which I know many of you prefer over any other thing *winks* But both this chappie and the next are practically the corner stone of both the Black Heir and the Vindico Atrum fic. A lot of loose knots are tied here –at least I hope so, if not tell me!- and Orion is making many, many crucial discoveries. So for now, no action and a lot info!

**Enjoy and Review, please!**

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**Chapter 34**

Orion landed right in the middle of the Central Hall in Zraven Citadel, his trunk clanking down on the floor as his eyes glanced around. There was absolute silence, stillness, and emptiness in the great domed-ceiled hall carved out in the depths of the Romanian Carpathian mountains. Indeed, the only things that moved were the frescoes on the ceilings, depicting long forgotten ferocious battles between vampires, werewolves, muggles and wizards.

The gothic-like arched sides of the hall, lined with columns, and with torches which cast a dim lit on the vastness, didn't held one single vampire. The stone platform at the end, holding the throne-like golden chairs was unoccupied.

Orion hesitantly stepped forward, not quite knowing what to do. Since it was already nighttime, he had expected to at least find the Zravens occupying their thrones to attend to their matters and hold court, but there was no one to be seen.

Suddenly, the sound of footfalls reached his ears and Orion swirled around towards its direction with a deep sense of anticipation. Then he saw its source when a small figure appeared around the corner and stepped into the great empty hall. As their gazes landed on each other, they both seemed to freeze at the same time, Orion with disappointment and the small girl with a perplexed expression on her face.

Orion blinked at her. She couldn't be more than twelve and she seemed to be tending to some Citadel upkeep related duty, since she was holding a water basin and some cleaning cloths in her hands. There was no doubt that she must be the child of a vampire couple, since he could see a wand tucked in the ribbon which was tied under the chest of her dress, and when her mouth popped open, he saw tiny sharp incisors peeking out.

He was about to attempt to communicate with her with the few Romanian words he knew, when the most unexpected thing happened. The small girl threw her hands in the air, water basin and cloths jumping up, and the most ear-splitting shriek rippled out of her mouth.

"No, no! Hush, hush!" said Orion entreatingly, rushing to her, waving his hands whilst trying to show her that he was quite harmless.

It was of no use, the small girl screeched again and in a flash she was gone, screaming her lungs out as she disappeared around the corner. Utterly befuddled, Orion stopped and glanced down at himself. He didn't think he looked _that_ scary. Though, he mused while contemplating his dark magic pulsing around his body, perhaps he should have glamoured his aura first.

All musings flew from his mind when, abruptly, he found himself at the receiving end of sharp, glinting sword edges, and several wand tips digging into his throat for good measure. Completely startled, Orion realized that the vampires now surrounding him had suddenly and noiselessly appeared out of seemingly nowhere. They had to be the Guards of Zraven Citadel, since he recognized the armor of crimson dragon scales they wore and the Zraven Crest emblazoned on their armor's chests.

They looked ferocious, and he saw more coming out from the walls, they seemed to bleed out of them, before he realized that they were emerging out of the shadows that shrouded the hall.

Holding up his palms, he wildly glanced at their faces, as he said quickly, "I'm Orion Black. I mean no harm!"

He felt a modicum of relief when he detected some faintly familiar faces he had seen during his holidays at Zraven Citadel years ago. Those seemed to recognize him as well, since even though they didn't lower swords or wands, their expressions relaxed. Yet, some others still looked quite willing to skewer him at his slightest move.

Suddenly, a sharp commanding voice barked out some words in Romanian he didn't understand, and in the next second, the Zraven Guard parted open the circle they had formed around him. Through the clear path they had formed, Orion saw a vampire moving towards him like a panther prowling towards a helpless prey, and he recognized him immediately.

"Cyprian!" cried Orion with deep relief, never having been so happy to see a vampire in his life, though he didn't dare to move an inch, just in case one of the guards would take it as a threatening move.

The tall vampire of broad, strong shoulders, long dark red hair and stormy grey eyes momentarily halted in his steps as he made his way towards Orion, his expression fleetingly surprised before his face turned stern once more.

"Your arrival is most unexpected," said the Zravens' weapons-master and Commander, his voice thick with a Slavic accent, as his eyes lingered on the sword dangling from Orion's shoulder with a speculative and curious glint in them. Orion's power visible in his magical aura didn't seem to surprise him at all, not even garnering an arched eyebrow. "You were expected a week from now. You arrive at a most inconvenient time."

Before Orion had a chance to reply, Cyprian was already barking out some orders, at which the Guards folded backwards and disappeared into the shadows.

"Come, I'll show you to your rooms," said Cyprian, not sparing Orion a second glance as he quickly started down the hall towards a corridor. "It's your luck that your apartments are ready. Make haste, I'm required elsewhere!"

Swallowing a grumpy retort, Orion flicked his wand and made his trunk levitate and follow after him as he quickened his strides to match Cyprian's.

"Where are the Zravens?" said Orion in between pants, since he wasn't at all used to a vampire's speedy walks. "I was hoping to see them-"

"To see Lezander, no doubt," interrupted Cyprian, shooting him a glance over his shoulder, his lips tilting upwards. "And I dare say that you'll want to see the Sdravkul Kraljica Mati as soon as possible as well."

"Yes," said Orion, frowning at the vampire's back as they took another corridor with a solemn and ancient feel to it, which always hung over the whole Citadel. When he saw the direction they were taking, his frown deepened, and he piped in, "This is not the way to Lezander's rooms. I thought that mine would be across from his-"

"They are," interjected Cyprian as he halted in front of an ornate door. He turned around to face Orion with a confused frown on his face. The expression cleared in the next second, a smile twisting his lips. "Ah, you mustn't have heard." He gestured at the door at the other side of the corridor, and then at the door in front of them. "Those are the Rege's apartments, and yours are through here."

Orion stared at him. "My quarters are across from Râzvan's?" He grimaced and looked at the vampire discomfited. "Can I ask for a change? I really don't want to-"

"You misunderstand me," interrupted Cyprian shortly, now looking as impatient as before as he waved a hand to open the door in front of them, pushing Orion inside as cordially as possible. "Lezander has the Rege's apartments now."

Orion had just cancelled the levitation charm on his trunk, and it noisily clattered down on the stone floors as he gaped at the vampire. "You mean-"

"Râzvan is not the Zraven Rege anymore," said Cyprian curtly, pinning him with his stormy grey gaze. "He's the Consilier Principal, the Main Advisor to the Rege, you would call him." He glanced around the room in a supervisory manner. "Do your apartments meet your approval?"

"Yeah, sure," mumbled Orion, without sparing the rooms a glance, his gaze still fixedly focused on the vampire's face, his mind swirling. "Do you mean to tell me that Lezander is now the Rege?"

Cyprian merely nodded at him and swiftly turned around, about to step out and leave him behind. Orion quickly snatched the vampire's forearm, and said incredulously, feeling a frisson of apprehension, "But it's too soon! I know that Râzvan wasn't planning on stepping down the throne for several more years if not decades. What has happened-"

"Lezander was ready," said Cyprian sharply, as if he had needed to reaffirm exactly the very same thing, many times and to many people. "He was brought up to fill the role and I have no doubt the change is a positive one for our Clan. He will not disappoint."

"Yes, I'm sure, but-"

"I must take leave of you, I'm needed…" Cyprian trailed off and eyed him speculatively, his gaze assessing. "I suppose you could come along, and have some questions answered." He seemed to nod at himself, and commanded curtly, "Leave your things behind and follow."

Cyprian had already left the room when Orion quickly disengaged the Gryffindor Sword from his shoulder, leaving it and the trunk behind before he rushed to keep up with the vampire.

"As I understand it," said Cyprian as they quickly strode along a narrow corridor, which seemed to take them into the very depths of the Citadel, "you'll be under my tutelage during a month. You will be expected to rise at the same hour as my fighters, to train with them, get to know them and our ways. Most of your time will be spent in the barracks or at the training room in the Citadel, since my Rege has expressed a wish to supervise your lessons and help you with them."

"Very well," said Orion, though he didn't think the vampire was asking for his agreement at all. Rather, he was being given instructions and expected to comply without putting a toe out of line. "Though you should know, that following the terms of my alliance with the Zravens, the three hundred vampire fighters I was promised will be required to fight during daylight hours. Our first strike is planned for August the first, during the evening."

Cyprian shot him a glance over his shoulder, his expression musing. "That can be worked out. I will change my fighters' training schedule to adjust to it, then. It's better if they start training during daylight hours to acclimate themselves to it. You will need all three hundred fighters for this initial attack you mention?"

"No," replied Orion pensively. "I think fifty or so will be enough. You and… well, you and Lezander, I suppose, will be the ones who'll have to determine that. There's going to be a planning meeting with Voldemort and some other allies in four days, and I hope you and Lez will be able to attend."

"I'm sure we will," said Cyprian impassively, not looking at all concerned about what he and his Rege would be confronted against in such meeting.

"Good, that is if…" Orion trailed off, not quite knowing which of his numerous questions to put forward first, or how to glean as much as he could from the vampire. He bit his lower lip and glanced at him, as he continued hesitantly, "That is if Lezander is fully recuperated. Is he? Does he fully remember me? Does he remember all about his life?"

"He's certainly 'recuperated'," said Cyprian shortly, immediately falling silent again as he halted to lift a tapestry that hung unsuspectingly from a wall.

Orion repressed his desire to press on the matter when he saw the vampire stroking some stones behind the tapestry, as if punching in some sort of code. Without a sound, the stones rippled to the sides, forming some sort of archway which led into a narrow, dark secret corridor, and Orion quickly trailed after Cyprian as the vampire entered it.

"Where are we going?" he asked as patiently as possible, merely shooting a baleful glare at the tight-lipped vampire's back, hoping the Zraven Commander could be a bit more forthcoming.

"With each new ascension to the throne," said Cyprian calmly, evidently having no trouble seeing through the dark whilst Orion had to cast a small Lumos sphere to hang over his shoulder to see his way, "there are inevitably political events that follow. At present, the Court has assembled to discuss important issues regarding the Rege's new rule. That's why you saw no one in the Throne Hall." He glanced back at Orion, a fleetingly pensive frown on his face. "What would you call it? A session of the House of Parliament?"

"Muggles would call it that," interjected Orion, his expression one of sudden understanding. "But I see what you mean." He shot the vampire an uneasy glance. "And you're taking me there?"

Just in that precise moment, they reached the end of the dank corridor, and Cyprian did the same to the wall before them as he had done to the one they had left behind. The moment an archway split along the stone wall, light flittered inside and a cacophony of loud voices reached Orion's ear. He quickly dispelled the Lumos sphere, but Cyprian clutched his arm before he could go through the archway.

"You're to stay here, in silence," said the vampire sternly, pinning him with his stormy grey eyes. "Observe if you wish, but don't move until I give you a sign."

And with that, the Commander of the Zraven Forces disappeared through the archway. Sighing, Orion rubbed his forehead, before he took one small step forward, halting right in the threshold and peeking out his face.

He instantly understood why Cyprian had resembled it to the British House of Parliament. The secret corridor ended at one side of an enormously vast room shaped like an amphitheater, with rows of tabled seats filled with numerous vampires looking very official, their attires formal and their manners seemingly respectful. But there was no doubt they were in the midst of a heated debate of some kind.

There were several vampires standing up as they spoke out in a string of Romanian words Orion didn't even attempt to understand. Some were wildly gesturing as to press their point while they argued with some other vampire standing rows away, while the rest of seated vampires were murmuring among themselves in clearly visible groups scattered here and there. It was like seeing political parties plotting under a monarchical rule.

Indeed, the 'monarchs' were there as well. Orion's gaze instantly riveted on them, suddenly feeling his heart pounding fast in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. At the very front of the amphitheater-like rows stood a high stone platform reached by several steps, on top of which shone golden thrones like the sun breaking through darkness. The grand, ornate armchairs were exactly like the ones in the Central Hall of the Citadel, and they were occupied by the Zravens.

Though Orion could only see their profiles from his standing point, he immediately saw that unlike every other time, Râzvan was seated flanking the main throne by its right-side, while Mireilla sat at the left. And between them, in the position of the Rege, was Lezander. Orion couldn't peel his eyes away from the young vampire's profile, but as more as he closely inspected him, the more he felt a deep sense of dismay and worried apprehension.

Lezander's face was the same, as handsome as ever with his shoulder-length black hair and slanted pale blue eyes, but he seemed as if he had been carved out of marble, his face expressionless, his eyes cold and frosty, his unmoving demeanor curt.

At first, Orion didn't know what happened, but suddenly all the arguing voices and the whispers in the chamber died down, and he saw the vampires of the Zraven Court directly looking at him, at the same time that he caught sight of Cyprian standing behind Lezander's throne, bent down and whispering something to his ear. In the next blink of the eye, murmurs broke in the assembled Court like fire blazing through stay hacks, their gazes still fixed on him, some expressions knowing and gratified, others looking mistrustfully or angered.

He tensed but didn't move an inch, as instructed by Cyprian. Though he felt as if a blow struck him when the vampire Commander straightened up to simply stand behind Lezander's throne, presumably having told Lezander about his presence, but the new Rege didn't move. Lezander still faced forward, not even an inkling of expression crossing his face, not even a brief glance shot his way.

Orion frowned uncertainly. He hadn't expected Lezander to jump from his throne and rush to him, but he hadn't expected this blatant disregard either. Though, he caught sight of Mireilla next, who shot him a very relieved glance, as if she hadn't trusted that he would come to the Citadel at all, even a week from then. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, as if to soothe him, before she faced straight ahead towards the Court.

Abruptly, one of the vampires at the rows jumped to his feet pointing in his direction and spewing Merlin knew what in a loud accusing tone of voice, and it seemed as if that broke the floodgates, since more and more vampires joined him in expressing their opinions – about him, no doubt.

Feeling increasingly worried, Orion glanced at Lezander again, but seeing no sign there or even a blink cast his way, he gazed next at Cyprian, who sharply shook his head at him. So he ended up weathering out whatever the Court was spouting about him by remaining standing rooted in his place.

To him, it seemed as if hours dragged on during which Lezander or Mireilla sharply and curtly interjected in the argument. Though he noticed that Râzvan never piped in a word, and he couldn't quite see the vampire's expression to tell what must be on his mind.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the Court appeared to be a bit more pacified, though some shot him glares when Lezander said something which evidently put a closure to their session. To his surprise, the majority glanced at him with a gleam of anticipation and welcoming in their eyes, and he grinned at them as nonchalantly as he could.

The vampires flickered out of the room, some disapparating, others merging with the shadows, and a very few walking out. At last, only the Zravens and Cyprian were left, and Orion saw the Commander waving at him to come forth.

Straightening his shoulders, Orion left the comfort of the secluded archway to stride to the middle of the chamber, standing in front of the platform holding the thrones. Not even then, he noticed, did Lezander glance at him. The new Rege was heatedly whispering something to Râzvan.

"You are most welcome," said Mireilla with a soft smile, pulling Orion's gaze away from Lezander as she smoothly climbed down the steps, looking as if she was walking on clouds.

As soon as she reached him, she wrapped her arm around his, her smile widening, showing her pristine sharp incisors as her gaze swept over him. "My, you've grown! Both in power and looks." She planted a kiss on his cheek, her eyes glowing and her expression highly pleased. "Indeed, you've grown to be even more handsome that I could have imagined."

"Thank you," said Orion, giving her a short bow of the head.

"I hope there are no hard feelings between us?" murmured Mireilla quietly, searchingly staring at him.

Orion felt himself slightly relaxing under her characteristic melodic and soft tone of voice, and granted her a small smile. "Not at all."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said, her tilted beautiful eyes sparkling. "Cyprian informs us that you're leading the Dark in a strike against the English Light during the first of August."

"Yes, Voldemort and I will," interjected Orion, casting a fleeting glance at Lezander. "And that will be the start. But I think I should discuss it best with-"

"Oh, of course," said Mireilla swiftly, turning around to gesture at her son. "Come my dear, don't make Orion wait!" She turned to Orion, smiling. "You must certainly discuss such matters with the Rege and Cyprian. I'm just a mother, after all."

Orion shot her an amused glance. If she was 'just a mother' he would eat his foot. She seemed to know perfectly well that her role and the scope of her influence in the Zraven Clan went way beyond that, since her smile widened wickedly.

Eyeing as Lezander, Râzvan, and Cyprian made their way towards them, Orion's expression turned serious and he whispered under his breath, "Is he alright?"

"He is," said Mireilla brightly.

"He's changed," remarked Orion frowning, with a deep feeling of misgivings. Mireilla didn't say anything to that, and his jaw clenched as he whispered sharply, "Right. Be that as it may, I'm not only here for him, my training, or for the sake of our alliance. I want to see the Kraljica Mati and I will not be deterred-"

"And you will see her," interrupted Mireilla with a sharp nod of her head. "She has been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time. I'll inform her of your presence here and tomorrow you can visit her."

Orion stared at her surprised. He had expected to end up hunting down the elusive Kraljica Mati, not that it would be so simple. A slight frown crinkled his forehead. "I could see her today-"

"Nothing of that," interjected Mireilla sternly, "you must be tired. You should rest tonight. You shouldn't tax yourself to adjust to our schedule." The moment the other group reached their side, she instantly snatched Lezander by wrapping her other arm around his, pulling the three of them close together. Her eyes darted between Orion and Lezander, a highly pleased and satisfied expression on her face. "My dear, I was telling Orion that perhaps you could take him to Sdravkul Castle tomorrow to see the Kraljica Mati."

"If you desire it, I will," said Lezander calmly, solidly meeting Orion's fixed gaze on him for the first time.

Orion had to grit his teeth behind his closed lips. He felt an irrepressible desire to shake the vampire until his teeth rattled, or to punch him, at that. It was like being in front of a bloody statue. Not a single expression flickered across the vampire's face, not a single emotion could be detected in Lezander's pale blue eyes - nothing that could give him some hint of what the vampire was thinking or feeling. And on the other hand, he felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his throat.

"Fine," said Orion shortly. "We'll leave it for tomorrow."

"That is all very well," interjected Râzvan coldly, who was standing before the three of them with Cyprian by his side, piercing Orion with a narrowed gaze, "but I think the boy should tell us what these planned attacks are all about-"

"He will," interrupted Mireilla sternly, skewering her husband with an ominous gaze which spoke of things to befall him if she was opposed, "but that is something for Cyprian and our son to discuss with him."

"I hardly see why," stated Râzvan sharply, apparently well acquainted and immune to his wife's glares, "I'm still the Consilier Principal, and as such-"

"As such, you will be informed of matters in due time," snapped Mireilla impatiently, disentangling herself from Orion's and Lezander's arms to wrap one arm around her husband's. She shot Râzvan a softer gaze, and added appeasingly, "Dragostea mea, for tonight we should leave the young ones to themselves. There will be time later for discussions."

The 'young ones', apparently, meant Lezander, Cyprian and him, since Mireilla soon started dragging her reluctant husband away, as she said over her shoulder, "My dear, perhaps you and Cyprian could show Orion around the barracks. I think he will be interested in seeing our forces tonight. Then he should rest!"

Lezander nodded at his mother, while Cyprian looked quite eager to get away as soon as possible to join the fighters he commanded.

Suddenly, as Mireilla and Râzvan were about to leave the chamber, Râzvan sharply turned his head around to pierce Orion with his eyes, and with a flicker of anger crossing his face, he said curtly, "I'm glad you're here, boy, but I'm not content with what you have brought upon in my son's life."

Mireilla shot her husband a censuring glance, pulling him forward to leave before more could be said, but Râzvan disregarded her and continued coldly, his gaze still pinning Orion, "I know about the Malfoy boy. I know what my son has done for you, against my advice and his desires and better judgment-"

Râzvan was cut off, his face indignant, when Mireilla unceremoniously pushed him through the threshold and slammed the door shut behind them. Orion could still hear Râzvan's angered crisp voice snapping at his wife, their arguing voices growing dimmer as the couple moved away.

As soon as he could no longer hear them, Orion snapped his gaze up to look at Lezander with a deep frown on his face, numerous questions brimming in his mind.

He opened his mouth, but he was cut short as Cyprian shot them an impatient glance. "My men must be waiting for me. I cannot dawdle longer here. So if you-"

"We're going," said Lezander shortly, fleetingly glancing at Orion with an undecipherable expression on his face.

Cyprian nodded sharply, and in the next second Orion saw him walk into a corner and being engulfed in the shadows creeping there, disappearing into them.

Lezander swiftly turned to him, and asked quietly, "Do you trust me?"

"Um… yes," replied Orion, a bit bewildered by the sudden question.

Without another word, Lezander grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the nearest dark corner.

"Breathe, don't panic," whispered Lezander into Orion's ear, as he tightly wrapped his arms around him.

In the next second, as Orion was about to ask what the hell the vampire meant, he instantly felt a strange waterfall of magic rippling over him, and in the next moment, Lezander pushed them to jump into the wall. Orion's startled yelp was swallowed as he felt himself plunging into rocks and stones, only that he really wasn't. The sensations were of the weirdest kind.

He saw nothing but absolute darkness blurring all around him, without any sense of direction, but he was moving, and he still felt Lezander's body wrapped tightly around his own. He felt as if he was rushing under the waters of the greatest oceans, in its very depths, only darkness around him and pressure.

Suddenly, light struck him and all pressure vanished, as he and Lezander seemed to spill out of a mountain's side and unto graveled grounds.

With a deep gasp for air, Orion wildly looked around as he felt Lezander dropping his arms from him. They had indeed come out from the face of a mountain shrouded in shadows, only the moon casting some light on them. They seemed to be in some sort of valley, and he could see a tip of one of Zraven Citadel's turrets peeking out behind the crest of a mountain.

Before him laid graveled grounds and a courtyard to a side, next to a large stone building that could be nothing else but the barracks Cyprian and Mireilla had mentioned. And there was an army of vampires dressed in dragon-scale armor, some wielding swords and sparing in small groups, some others doing physical exercises, with Cyprian move around, barking orders left, right, and center, as he supervised each group of vampire fighters.

Still a bit disconcerted, he glanced at Lezander and then back to the mountain they had spit out of. "That was… What you did, um… That was shadow-shifting, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Lezander, his eyes fixed on the fighters going through their drills under Cyprian's watchful eye. "I became of age magically a couple of months ago, therefore, as all vampires, I learned it and was allowed to use it." He shot Orion a brief glance. "I'm quite good at it so you were in no danger."

"That's not why I asked," said Orion crisply, becoming increasingly incensed at the vampire's frosty attitude.

Lezander shot him another stern glance. "You should be watching their training-"

"I don't give a wheezing fizzbee about the bloody training, at present," snapped Orion hotly, stomping until he stood squarely in front of the vampire, cutting his line of sight and thus forcing him to look at him and not the darned fighters. He narrowed his green eyes at him, his expression determined and cross, as he demanded, "Do you remember about me? Do you remember everything?"

"I do," said Lezander impassively, meeting his gaze without even a flinch.

Momentarily, Orion felt deep sense of relief and joy, but in the next second he waved a hand with exasperation. "So?"

"So what?" said Lezander flatly, impatience and annoyance sweeping across his face.

"So is that all you have to say to me?" gritted out Orion, darkly scowling. "After everything, and after so long-"

"You think you're owed something?" interjected Lezander, looking at him disbelievingly as he took a step to be inches apart, his voice lowering ominously. "That I owe you explanations? And not the other way around?"

"No!" bit out Orion crossly. "But I would like to know what happened to you." A frown spread over his face, and he pierced him with narrowed eyes. "And I would like to know how it is that you're taking me to the Kraljica Mati when you told me that you had never known or met her. And what your father meant about Draco-"

"I had never met the Kraljica Mati," interrupted Lezander curtly, "as far as I remembered. Apparently, my mother presented me to her when I was a baby, but I never had any recollections of what happened then." He pinned Orion with narrowed eyes of his own, an angry gleam in them. "And I didn't meet her again until some time ago, precisely the day after you fled from here, without staying to-"

"I didn't flee," mumbled Orion, feeling a bit abashed and remorseful. "I was shocked to see you alive-"

"You fled!" hissed out Lezander under his breath, his eyes darkening with furious recrimination. "I stood there, remembering your eyes and your face, from my dreams, and you didn't stay to help me figure things out!" He pushed his face forwards and bent his head down to be nose-to-nose with Orion. "Do you know what I believed then? I had been told by my parents that I had received a great blow to the head during training with Cyprian. I remembered nothing of my life at Durmstrang! I only remembered my childhood. And for months, I struggled and endlessly went through training and tutoring classes to make up for the years I didn't remember."

Blanching, Orion stared at him remaining silent, and Lezander took in a deep breath, and muttered sharply, "And then I saw you, and I realized the dreams I had were of things real. That it wasn't a fabrication of my addled mind that I had loved someone, that I had seen children with crimson uniforms flying around with brooms, that the curtain of darkness that terrified me in my nightmares and the coldness and pain, and the feeling of having my life almost tore from my body, wasn't imagined."

"The Veil," murmured Orion apprehensively.

"Yes, the damned Veil," interjected Lezander crisply. "My nightmares were plagued with it. And every time I told my mother about my dreams, I saw her looking uncertain and torn, but she didn't think I would remember fully. So I was told they were simply dreams, because she and my father wanted me to go on without any worries."

"And after you saw me-"

"You told me to ask my parents, that it was their fault," snapped Lezander sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. "So I did. They couldn't say I was imagining you then, could they? The next day I woke up to find an old woman sitting by my bedside-"

"The Kraljica Mati," breathed out Orion, understanding dawning in his mind.

"Exactly," said Lezander with a sigh, dropping his arms to his sides. "My mother brought her to see me, to ascertain if there was anything she could do to help me remember, because I insisted on knowing about you and my parents didn't know how to help me in any other way."

"And?" pressed on Orion, eyeing him warily.

"And the Kraljica Mati drove into my mind for a week, almost nonstop," grumbled Lezander with a grimace, a shudder visibly shaking his shoulders. "It was horrible. The worst experience. But by the end of it I remembered everything." He shot Orion a cold glance. "I'm still pondering if it was worth it. Sometimes I wish I didn't know all that I do now."

Orion deeply frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Now I know all there is to know, don't I?" said Lezander with a hint of bitterness in his voice, throwing up a hand in the air. "She took me to Sdravkul Castle and told me everything and then some. About you, the Vindico Atrum issue, the Hallows, the 'Spirits', the Peverells, the real meaning of that blasted prophecy about you and Dark Lords, the Aux Atrum, the blasted horcruxes, everything!"

Suddenly, he grabbed Orion's shoulders, boring his pale blue eyes into Orion's green ones, and said vehemently, "I even know what has happened to you. I know what happened with the Dementor. I know who Grindelwald was to you, and about your bloodlines. I even know about this Arian person that has the Spirits and Aux so worried. The Kraljica Mati didn't conceal any information and she's forever collecting it!" He lowered his voice, and said grimly, "I even know more than you do at present. The things she will tell you about." He dropped his hands from Orion's shoulders, and added with a murmur, "She showed me the Book. She explained the vampire legend to me."

"What is it?" said Orion breathlessly, feeling his heart loudly pumping with anticipation in his chest. "What has she told you-"

"Things you must hear from her lips," interrupted Lezander shortly, shooting him a stern glance. "It's her story, not mine. You can wait a day, can't you, when I waited endless months to remember my life and received no help from you! When I first thought, after seeing you run away from me, that I had done some terrible thing and had been rejected by the one who could be no other than my mate-"

"I'm sorry about that," mumbled Orion dejectedly, uneasily running his fingers through his hair.

"You were a coward," accused Lezander sharply, looking at him with cold fury.

"Yes, I was," muttered Orion, before he frowned and stared up at him. "Your mate. Right." His eyes narrowed, and he continued stiffly, "When you saw me then, and knew that your dreams had to be true, you said I was your mate-"

"Yes," said Lezander coolly, arching an eyebrow. "So what?"

"Sooo," hissed out Orion, heatedly glaring at him, "I know that what you told me was pure rubbish. You told me that vampires chose mates the same way humans do, and it's a damned lie! Connolly -a werewolf, no less!- told me that vampires have lifemates, that a vampire will feel drawn by someone's blood in a unique way, much like how a werewolf's inner wolf chooses their mates, and that I had to be yours!"

All color drained from Lezander's face and the vampire stared at him mutely.

"Will you say nothing?!" barked Orion hotly, stomping a foot down with irritated annoyance, instead of squarely punching him as he was sorely tempted to do. "You accuse me of having acted like a coward, but so were you when you didn't tell me that I was your bloody lifemate! When did you first know?!"

Lezander gazed at him nonchalantly, and said flatly, "I will not be interrogated-"

"Oh, yes you will," snapped Orion, balefully glaring up at him. "So spill!"

His expression must have been dark and ominously stubborn, since Lezander heaved in a deep breath, and muttered quietly, "Since the start, almost the moment I met you after we were sorted."

At first, Orion felt dismayed, but in the next second he felt his blood boiling with anger. "Since then! And you didn't beep a word to me-"

"Why should I have?" said Lezander with a thunderous expression on his face. "I was confused, I was a child! Vampires are not supposed to meet their lifemates so soon, we have centuries for that!" He jerkily swatted his hair from his shoulder. "During my first school holidays back here, I asked my mother about the things I felt, and it was clear to her what it meant and she confirmed it to me." He pinned Orion with his gaze, and continued stiffly, "But I didn't want such an important decision to fall on our shoulders. Not yours or mine. Then I thought it best, when we were together, just to see what happened without putting any pressures on you. Can't you understand that?"

"You should have told me, anyway," retorted Orion crisply. "Things would have happened differently. I would have-"

Abruptly, Lezander grasped Orion's chin in a tight clutch, and whispered sharply, "You would have what? Agreed to bond with me at the age of fourteen?" His eyes narrowed piercingly. "Renounce to what you felt for that damned Tom Riddle and Voldemort? You think I never realized that you always preferred him to me?!"

Orion mulishly stared at him. "That's not true-"

"You married him," bit out Lezander, fury and deep, pained hurt flashing in his narrowed pale blue eyes, "almost immediately after you thought I had died."

"Yes, I did," interjected Orion quietly with a deep sigh, shooting him a careful glance. "But it didn't change what I felt for you, Lez. And now-"

"You're no longer bonded to him, I know," interrupted Lezander, freeing Orion's chin and dropping his hand, as he speared him with a searching gaze. "But I know you're still with him and that you still want him. That hasn't changed and I don't expect it will, right?"

Orion hesitated for a second, before he pierced him with his gaze and said firmly, "I want both of you. In fact, I want the three of you, counting Draco-"

A resounding, mirthless bout of laughter sprung from Lezander's lips, as he wildly shook his head. "Of course you do! Thrice-bonded – right!"

Not at all amused, Orion crossed his arms over his chest and waited until Lezander stopped laughing like a deranged madman.

"If you know about me being thrice-bonded," he said at last, spearing the vampire with a stern gaze, "then you have to understand. I'm Voldemort's horcrux, I seeped in some of Draco's soul's essence during something that happened with the Resurrection Stone, and I have a partial bond to you because you gave me your blood and I'm your lifemate. Added to all that, I've always felt strong attachments to the three of you. And I have lately decided that I want you all. I only need-"

"For me to agree with it," interjected Lezander acidly, "for starters."

"Don't you want me?" asked Orion stiffly, his face an expressionless and cold mask as the best.

Lezander shot him a dark glare. "That's not the problem, is it? You very well know that I do. But things have changed. I'm the Rege-"

"Why are you the Rege?" piped in Orion, his interest captured. "I cannot believe that your father-"

"My father had nothing to do with it," scoffed Lezander, his expression grim. "And I wish he could have done something to stop it from happening. It's too soon, I don't feel ready no matter how much Cyprian and many others believe the contrary."

He pinned Orion with an intense gaze, as he added in a murmur, "It was the Kraljica Mati's decision. After I left Sdravkul Castle, after staying there for some time, she suddenly popped in Zraven Citadel during my seventeen birthday - my coming of age magically. She caused a turmoil, an uproar! No one in Zraven Citadel but my parents had ever seen her - she mostly keeps to her Castle. But she appeared and commanded that I should step up to the throne, and that was it." He let out a long exhalation of breath. "As the Kraljica Mati -and given that I'm her descendant, a Sdravkul through my mother- her decision couldn't be vetoed, not even by my father. So it was accepted, and I became the Rege, with all the duties and problems it entails."

Orion nodded and remained silent. It was pointless to ask him how he was doing since he would soon see it for himself. But he didn't think it was going so badly. From what he had seen of the Court's session, Lezander seemed to have things well in hand.

A sudden thought entered his mind, and he eyed Lezander with a frisson of apprehension. "Did she do it because of me? Because of your relationship with me and given that I'm close to having all the Hallows to undergo the VA test?"

"Most probably," mused Lezander, shrugging his shoulders. "I would have become the Rege eventually, but I think she must have decided that it better be soon rather than later, due to the war that is about to break in England and then the rest of Europe." He shot Orion a pointed glance. "And I have no doubt that she wants us to fully bond."

"How much did she tell you about the VA matter?" said Orion, closely regarding him as he smoothly jumped over the bonding issue, not wanting to break into arguments. "Did she tell you about the test or how I'm supposed to use the Hallows?"

"I know about that in general terms," replied Lezander shortly, "but not the particulars." He shot him an annoyance glance. "Don't keep asking me about it, wait until you see her."

"Fine," grumbled Orion with disappointment.

"I should take you back," said Lezander, his gaze sweeping over him in a scrutinizing manner. "You need your rest." His gaze intensified, as he added in a concerned whisper, "You're much more powerful now. It's true then that you absorbed Grindelwald's magic. What will you do about Voldemort – the same?"

Orion shot him a flat glance but didn't answer one way or the other, and Lezander frowned as he pressed on worriedly, "And what about your Necromantic training? I've been told about the Guild. Will you become a full-fledged Necromancer? You used to say you wouldn't."

"I will undertake the training with a Necromancer called The Argonaut," said Orion with a sigh, rubbing his forehead, "and I will do my best so that I'm not fully affected. And that's all there is to it."

"I don't want you to become a Necromancer," said Lezander stiffly, narrowing his eyes at him. "You'll change and you know it."

"I want to go to bed," said Orion, waving a hand dismissively. "Take me back."

"We're not done with this discussion," snapped Lezander sharply. "Not even remotely."

Orion roguishly grinned at him. "We can continue in bed."

"You want to have sex?" breathed out Lezander disbelievingly, staring at him as if he had never seen him before. He speared Orion with an intense gaze, and murmured quietly, "If we did, we would be completing the bond between us, and there's no going back. Are you ready for that?"

"Are you?" interjected Orion, frowning as he pierced him with a demanding stare. "I think it's a decision the both of us will have to make soon."

"Yes, exactly," said Lezander, his expression then darkening. "And there's also Voldemort to think of, isn't there? And I don't think I like the idea of bedding you if you're going to use the stuff you learned with him-"

"There's nothing that can be done about that!" snapped Orion crossly, shooting him a nasty glare. "Besides, are you going to tell me that you haven't slept with anyone all this time?"

"Come, let's go," said Lezander coolly, grabbing Orion's arm and dragging him towards the mountain.

"Answer me!"

"I don't think Cyprian is very happy with us," remarked Lezander pleasantly, glancing over his shoulder.

"Don't change subjects," groused out Orion, but his curiosity also made him gaze towards the vampires training in the courtyard.

Indeed, he saw Cyprian darkly glaring at them as Lezander waved a hand towards his Commander. Well, Cyprian would have to wait until tomorrow to have all his undivided attention and drill him to the ground. He couldn't be expected to observe with interest the vampires' training when he had Lezander by his side at long last - honestly!

* * *

Orion didn't go to bed straight away, just as he knew would happen. The moment they spilled out from the shadows in a corner of the rooms appointed to him, Lezander had instantly laid eyes on the Gryffindor Sword and had spent some considerable time admiring it.

Then, as Orion also knew would happen, Lezander had bombarded him with questions about their Durmstrang friends and every other thing he had been involved with. The Kraljica Mati might have informed Lezander as much as she could regarding VA matters and him, but she certainly didn't know the details of everything that had happened in Orion's life.

And Orion didn't waste a second before telling him all about it, from how Loki had left the school for the Guild, to Luna and his sixth year at Hogwarts, covering his confrontation with Cadmus the Dementor, resurrecting his father, his deal with the Guild, the creation of the Elite and the DA, the rescuing of Grindelwald from Nurmengard, what had happened at Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower and the Death Eater attack, Arian and his theories about the light wizard, and every other thing he could think of. The only issue he didn't mention – the only thing Calypso didn't know either- was about his past lives and what Arian seemingly had to do with the first, at least.

Now, changed into some comfy pajamas, Orion was seated with crossed legs on his bed with Lezander in a similar position in front of him.

"So she has been acting strangely during the year?" said Lezander concernedly, a deep frown on his handsome face. "And you don't know what it could be…"

"You should talk to her," said Orion firmly. "Maybe Calypso will tell you, if she doesn't want me to know that she's marked or helping some other party. And then you could at least tell me if she's alright. I keep having the feeling that whatever she's involved in is troubling her greatly."

"I would like to see her," said Lezander brightly, a wide smile breaking on his face. "And I would like to see Evander, Kara, and Viktor as well. I could give you a portkey so that you can bring them back here one of these days." He shot him a warning glance. "Not for the others you mentioned, you understand. Your Elite - I never knew them well, and I'm not really interested in them."

"Oh, but you'll see all of them," interjected Orion, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "I already told Cyprian there's going to be a meeting with Voldemort and the rest of the allies to plan the attacks of August the first. And many meetings after that. When those are done, we'll have to plot the attack on Hogwarts planned for a month or two later. The werewolf Alphas are showing up, and you're the Zraven Rege, so you must attend along with Cyprian and whoever else you want."

"Ah, yes," said Lezander with a pensive and calculating frown on his forehead. "So the first meeting is in four days?"

Orion nodded happily, feeling too pleased and content to even recognize that he was dead on his feet. Indeed, he had no doubt that in a few hours it would be dawning, but he couldn't think of sleeping when he was seating there with Lezander right in front of him. Talking about everything and nothing, like in the old days. At present, it felt as if they hadn't been separated at all, as if all the time without seeing one another had been mere seconds instead of two, long years.

"You're more beautiful than I remembered," suddenly whispered Lezander.

Startled, Orion looked up at him, wondering where that had come from, so out of the blue. Lezander was fixedly gazing at him with riveted intensity, but the vampire didn't move an inch, and Orion was tempted to preen under his gaze. He wouldn't deny that the compliment was vastly satisfying.

Yet, in the end, he merely shot him a devious, rakish grin. "Of course I am. Good-looks runs in all my bloodlines, one way or the other." He held up a hand, his grin widening as he ticked off fingers. "From Gellert and my mum, from the Blacks, and the Potters. Thus from Antioch Peverell and Slytherin, Cadmus, and Ignotus and Slytherin again, respectively. The brothers must have been as dashingly handsome as I am. At least I know Cadmus was, before he delved too deeply in Necromancy."

Lezander snorted, eyeing him with amusement. "You weren't this vain before."

"Just stating facts," said Orion loftily, widely smirking at him.

Suddenly, Lezander snapped his head up, his pale blue eyes looking momentarily unfocused, as if he was sensing something from far and beyond. "He has awoken."

Puzzled, Orion blinked at him, leaning forwards. "Who?"

"Draco," breathed out Lezander, still looking entranced.

"Come again?" asked Orion, blinking once more. Then, pure ecstatic joy and deep relief encompassed him, and he gasped out excitedly, "You mean to tell me that you're feeling him right now? And that he has finally woken up?"

He was almost jumping out of the bed to make a rush to his trunk and get the two-way mirror, when Lezander swiftly grabbed him by the wrist. "Don't. Let him be."

"What?" spluttered Orion disbelieving, snapping his head around to stare at him. "But you're feeling him and he's-"

"He needs some time," interrupted Lezander sternly, forcefully yanking him back without the need of moving from his comfortable position on Orion's bed.

With a startled yelp, Orion landed face-first on a multitude of puffy pillows. Spluttering indignantly, he scrambled to his hands and knees, and shot the vampire a most baleful glare. "Oi, lifemates aren't supposed to be manhandled but worshiped and adored, you know?!"

Lezander scoffed, and said blandly, "I believe you're thinking about Veela mates." He shot him a wicked smile. "Vampire mates are treated quite differently."

"I don't think I care to know," said Orion gruffly, straightening out his pajama top which had rolled up. He seated himself back as poised as possible, though he knew his hair had to be sticking up in every direction after that, and demanded with a scowl, "Why can't I speak to Draco? I need to know if he's fully recovered!"

"He is," said Lezander calmly. "I can feel him. He's well."

Orion speared him with a quizzical gaze. "Could you sense the same stuff with me?"

"I did after I gave you my blood," replied Lezander impassively, "but after I fell through the Necromancer's Gate, and then woke up here, I couldn't feel it anymore."

"I still want to see him," said Orion staunchly, "and talk to him through the mirror."

"He needs time to adjust," pointed out Lezander patiently. "There's much that he'll be informed about by Calypso, as you told me, isn't he? Not only that he's now hunted down by Aurors and Death Eaters, though I hardly think that will surprise him, but also about you, the VA issue, and –more importantly- that you gave him my blood to save him." He shot him a stern glance. "And you also told Calypso to tell him about what his father said, so he'll have that on top of everything else."

Orion heavily sighed. "You're right." He grimaced, and then smirked at him conspiratorially. "And to be truthful, I rather have him vent out his temper on Calypso rather than on me. He will be in high dudgeon and a foul mood for several days, if not weeks." He shot him a bright smile. "Yes, yes, you're quite right."

"He will not be easy to deal with," said Lezander musingly, a frown on his face. "And I'm certain he will soon discover the changes in him, as you did."

Orion didn't say anything to that. Draco would be insupportable. Poor Scaly and the Elite who would have to put up with him. And though he knew Draco would also be frantically worried about his future and scared, and enraged at having Lezander's blood, he knew Calypso was the best to deal with him. If he popped to Potter Manor right now, Draco and he would end up screaming at each other or beating each other to a pulp – there was no doubt about that. Both of them had their tempers.

Suddenly, Lezander's face turned deeply serious, and he eyed Orion carefully. "There's something I must tell you."

"Yes?" prompted Orion warily, the vampire's foreboding tone not passing unnoticed.

Lezander took in a deep breath, and said quietly, "You asked me before what my father's comment regarding Draco was about. I have started something I think is for the best." He pinned Orion with an intense gaze. "After the Kraljica Mati showed me and told me some things, and after I became the Rege, the idea popped into my mind as a solution. Then, when I received your letter asking for my blood to save Draco, it sealed the deal."

"What are you saying?" muttered Orion, fixedly staring at him, feeling highly alarmed and anxious.

"I am the Rege," stated Lezander curtly, "and I need a mate who will be by my side, and I know you cannot be it. You want to become the VA, that's patently clear to me, so I won't even ask you to give it up for me - I know you won't. You're my lifemate, and whether we complete the bond or not, that will never change and I cannot have any other lifemate." He shot him a pointed glance. "But I can have a regular 'mate', someone who will stick by my side and help me with my duties here. I want what my parent have. So when I gave you my blood for Draco, I did it knowing it would start a bond with him as a possible mate. And I have the intention of completing it."

Orion's jaw hung agape. He was feeling such a furious rush of emotions he didn't know quite were to start. He was utterly shocked, gobsmacked, incredulous, irate, hurt, and pained.

"But you've always disliked him!" he spluttered at last when he found his voice, jumping to his knees on the bed.

"Draco and I always had an aversion for each other because we wanted you for ourselves, respectively," interjected Lezander calmly. "Other than that, I believe we can get along. He is handsome, cultured, well-educated-"

"You're not buying a piece of furniture, here!" snapped Orion, still not quite believing his ears. "And what of what he wants?! You cannot believe he will leave the wizarding world behind for you – he was brought up as a pureblood! And-"

"- clever and witty," continued Lezander stoically, turning a deaf ear to Orion's increasingly loud rant. "I believe he can make a good companion." He stared at him levelly. "In a way, you chose him for me when you gave him my blood."

"To SAVE him!" shouted Orion, bristling as he looked wildly at him. "Not in a million years did I imagine that you would take it this way!"

"I have," interjected Lezander coolly. "And I hope you will help me convince him."

"You're mad!" gasped out Orion, staring at him with wide eyes. "I will not-"

Suddenly, Lezander leapt forward, grasping Orion's arms and pinning him to bed, his face inches from Orion's, his expression furious. "So you can have three lovers and marry anyone you want and I cannot have one single mate?! Are you really that selfish? Are you really jealous because I chose to-"

"I'm not marrying anyone ever again!" spat Orion heatedly, as furious as Lezander. "And I'm not…" He clamped his mouth shut, his teeth gritting, and darkly glared at him. "Fine, I am jealous, and angry that you decided to-"

"Who are you jealous about, him or me?" demanded Lezander gruffly, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Both, of course!" snapped Orion hotly. "You're right, I want three lovers, just as I told you. I want you as much as I want Voldemort and Draco. But I didn't expect you to fully bond with Draco! I knew there would be consequences when I gave him your blood, but not that, and-"

"Don't you see that it solves everything?" bit out Lezander crisply. "My father told the truth, I came to this decision for your sake, at first, and then I realized it could be for my sake as well. I certainly prefer to bond with you and have you remaining by my side – you're my lifemate! But it isn't possible, is it? Even if we fully bond, I know you won't forsake everything else to stay in Zraven Citadel with me, Orion!"

Orion heaved in a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and finally said quietly, "True." He searchingly glanced up at the vampire. "But I want to complete my bond with you, so what will happen then?"

"Just as I said," murmured Lezander, his gaze trailing caressingly over Orion's face, longingly. "You can have me and I can have you. You can have Voldemort too. And most importantly, we can both have Draco for our different motives if he agrees to this."

"Which he won't," pointed out Orion, feeling a bit breathless, as his mind spun incoherently, trying to sort things out.

"Which he will if you help me and if we both act together," said Lezander calmly, lifting himself up from Orion and rolling to a side to sit up on the bed.

Orion sat up as well, and jerkily carded his fingers through his hair, as he stared at him with wide eyes. "What are you suggesting? What do you expect will happen between us and Draco? Do you mean for the three of us to be together at the same time?"

"Yes. Isn't that what you want?" snapped Lezander impatiently. "How did you expect to have me and Draco? Of course, I'm not counting Voldemort in the plan." His expression turned disgusted and acid. "You can be with him on your own time. I certainly won't get mixed up with him. The farthest he is from me, the better."

"I didn't know how I would be with the three of you," muttered Orion under his breath. "I was still trying to figure that out." He stared at the vampire, perplexed. "But are you telling me that you have no problem with me being with Voldemort, while I'm also with you and Draco, if what you suggest works out with Draco?"

"Of course I have a fucking problem!" spat Lezander furiously, his hands clenching into tight fists. "But there's nothing I can do, is there? You were never willing to fully give Voldemort up and I doubt you're any more forthcoming in that regard now. And I rather have you in any way I can than not have you at all! Now, at least, I've found a way to give you what you want as well as having something for myself! I told you things had changed now that I'm the Rege."

"But you didn't know," said Orion slowly, fixedly staring at him. "When you sent your blood for Draco, you didn't know that I wanted the three of you, and you still made this decision-"

A mirthless bout of laughter sprung from Lezander's lips. "Didn't I know, really? I knew then that you were 'thrice-bonded' – the Kraljica Mati didn't allow me to forget! She might as well have burned it into my mind!"

Feeling as if the floor had been yanked under his feet, Orion regarded him closely, and whispered shakily, "This is about her, then? About the stuff she told you? About the vampire legend, perhaps?"

"Yes, in many ways," said Lezander with a sigh which sounded tired and defeated to Orion's ears. "It is the solution I came up with, for our sake, when I was told and shown certain things." He pinned Orion with his gaze. "It's for Draco's sake as well, and our future. You will understand, and come to see it's the only way, after you see her tomorrow."

"Right," said Orion, uneasily rubbing his forehead.

"We'll continue this after you've spoken to her," said Lezander, regarding him concernedly.

"Sure," mumbled Orion, gazing down at his bed covers with a frown on his face.

Lezander shot him one last anxious glance before he moved out of the bed, and Orion said and did nothing as the vampire silently left the bedroom. All ideas of pinning Lezander against a wall and kissing him senseless, as he had longed for, had flown out of his mind some time ago.

He still didn't know what to make of things, and he ended up burrowing under the bed covers and firmly closing his eyes shut, hoping that sleep would ensnare him soon, and having his wish come true.

* * *

The following day, Orion was woken up in the middle of his usual vision-filled dreams by a cheerful Mireilla. It took him one flick of his wand and a Tempus charm to discover it was late evening and that he had slept like a log, dreams not withstanding. And given the hour, since it wasn't nighttime at all, he understood that the Zravens were already adjusting their schedules for his sake – something he hadn't remotely expected.

But Mireilla waved off his words dismissively, pointing out that Cyprian had already made his fighters rise, and that if they were going to be required to combat during daytime, then all of them could do the effort to adjust for a couple of months. Though, it was implied, and clear to Orion, that the next time he should plan battles to happen during nighttime if vampires would be fighting in them, instead of making them go through the same a second time.

He was shown an armoire filled with vampire clothes adjustable to his size with a mere spell, he was helped to hung some of his own clothes inside, and he was aided when he organized the textbooks he would need to study for his PRIMEs. After which, Mireilla even waited for him to take a quick bath before venturing out the room.

Orion ended up thinking that she still had to be feeling guilty about lying to him concerning Lezander's survival, but he certainly didn't complain about Mireilla's solicitous attentions.

His 'breakfast' with her, Râzvan, Cyprian and Lezander, was a tense affair. While the vampires drank from their blood-filled goblets and slightly picked on some food here and there, Orion cleaned his plate, leaving nothing behind and feeling as he had gobbled down a full meal. The food hadn't been the problem, all of it had been delicious, it was the conversation that did it. And in some respect, the lack of it.

While Râzvan bombarded him with questions until the vampire knew about every single detail so far regarding the planned attacks on the Ministries and later Hogwarts, with Cyprian putting in a question here and there, Lezander didn't say a word. And Orion felt the palpable tension between them like the string of a bow being pulled too tightly, about to snap. Indeed, Mireilla seemed to notice it at as well, since she kept shooting concerned glances at them.

And much of the subsequent hours were spent in the same manner between Orion and Lezander. Cyprian and Lezander took him to the training courtyard once again, this time Orion meeting all the fighters, spending some time in idle chitchat to get to know them, being shown the inside of the barracks, the weapons room, and then given a short lesson about swords and their handling, which Cyprian fully promised to expand at length the following day.

He was put through some drills, his Gryffindor Sword was admired with curiosity, he was laughed at good-naturedly by the fighters while Cyprian barked at him how to wield it correctly in a defensive stance, and then he was given a detailed program of what his vampire training would entail during the month - it was scary and daunting.

It was midnight by the time Cyprian released him to his freedom, and though Lezander had accompanied him in every instance, they had barely said two words to each other. In short, Orion ended up grumpy and dissatisfied. He hadn't expected that this would happen with Lezander, that the very second day they would already be giving the cold shoulder to each other. He didn't quite know why it had all gone pear-shaped, but he still felt angry, moody, and hurt from their discussion of the night before.

He wanted Draco, yes, but he didn't want Lezander to also want Draco. He knew it was completely selfish, he knew he didn't have the right, but he still felt a green-eyed monster rearing its head inside him every time he thought about it. And Orion couldn't deduce of whom he would feel more jealous about.

Moreover, it hurt him immensely that Lezander had thought of replacing him, by all means, with Draco. He still didn't understand how the vampire could be so nonchalant about it and about sharing him with Voldemort, or how he had reached such an idea. The Lezander of the past would have never allowed such thing. The Lezander of the old days wouldn't have even considered Draco for anything but the receiving end of his wand.

Sullenly, Orion was following Lezander to the stables, his sour mood turning him short-tempered but also taciturn, so he didn't require to repress any snapping remarks - and the vampire should be bloody grateful for it. Orion clenched his jaw and shot a nasty glare at the vampire's back as he dragged his feet forwards.

He didn't feel up to doing anything, but there he was, trailing after Lezander, feeling like a lost, despondent puppy. The mere thought made his blood boil, and then, encompassed him with somberness. For his reunion with Lezander, he had envisioned heated kisses, gropings in dark corners, a hungrily lustful vampire pawing all over him, and steamy, hot sex as soon as possible. Things were simply not going as planned.

When Orion finally peeled his gaze from the graveled path and glance up, he saw Lezander already pulling a thestral from the nearest stable stall. In one swift motion, like a flash of blurriness, the vampire sat astride the magnificent creature, holding down a hand towards him.

Orion merely glanced at the offered limb with a grumpy expression on his face.

"What are you waiting for?" snapped Lezander crisply, letting out a mocking scoff. "A written invitation?"

Immediately, Orion inwardly cheered up, though he was careful of not showing a hint on his face. At least he knew now that Lezander was being affected as much as he was, and that certainly brightened his spirits.

With a snort, Orion clutched the hand and instantly found himself being pulled up in the air and then plopped down behind the vampire.

"Hold unto me," said Lezander shortly, and with that, in the next blink, they were airborne.

With his arms tightly wrapped around Lezander's waist, with the wind slapping his face, and the moonshine glowing over him, Orion felt his mood increasingly lightening up as they soared through the clouds. How he had missed flying!

He couldn't suppress a chuckle of pure, unadulterated joy, and he heard Lezander's voice carried through the wind as the vampire said tartly, "Happy now, are you?"

Orion didn't dignify that with an answer, and merely admired the dark skies, the twinkling stars, the night air brushing his hair, and the feeling of the thestral's muscles flexing under him, as the creature's wings flapped a summer night breeze to his face, the air feeling like feathered caresses.

Just mere minutes must have passed by when the thestral started diving downwards, as Lezander pointed a finger to somewhere below. "Look there."

Mystified, Orion's gaze followed the finger's direction, and then he saw it. It looked like an enchanted village lost in the midst of peaks, surrounded in isolation by mountains, a clutter of many houses bunched together, infused with mists through which glowed the dim lights of oil lamps lightening the narrow streets. He could even see dots of people out and about in the village. And covering the whole town like a great bubble, there was a shimmering sphere which encompassed it.

"Only someone with Sdravkul or Zraven blood in them can see through the wards," said Lezander. "It's the home of the Sdravkul vampires. Unlike my Clan, they don't have a Citadel where they live all together. The important members of the Sdravkul Court live in the Castle and the rest live down there."

"It's beautiful," breathed out Orion, his gaze riveted on it.

"It is," said Lezander simply, grasping back the thestral's mane with both hands. "And here comes Sdravkul Castle."

A small, tiny path he hadn't seen before snaked out of the village and around one of the mountain's peaks, curving in all directions before it straightened out for a long stretch, climbing up the side of another peak. And there, perched at the very top, looking as if a gust of wind would tip it down the abyss and into the rushing river below, was a castle.

Orion could only describe it as a tall, enormous, gothic monstrosity. Even from the distance, he could see ominous-looking gargoyles peeking out from every turret and sill, and it looked as imposing as foreboding; the stones it was made of, dark and somber; the feeling to it, ancient and gloomy. Though he surmised, that long ago it must have been beautiful, but time hadn't been kind to it. And there was a shimmer of magic to it as well, which he assumed had to be wards much like the ones he had seen over the town.

"Are we still in Romania?" asked Orion, as their ride suddenly dipped down and he was forced to clutch Lezander tighter.

"Yes, but in a different region of the Carpathian mountains. The Sdravkuls live in an area which was once called Transylvania. The Sdravkuls are from these parts, while the Zravens emigrated to the Romanian borders and its mountains, seeking safety and isolation after the wars with the-"

Lezander broke off as the thestral abruptly landed on the ground and trotted for several feet as it majestically folded its bony wings. They didn't waste any time in climbing down from the creature, and after Lezander's pat on its neck, it kneeled down and finally restfully settled itself on the ground, apparently to wait for them until they were ready to be taken back to Zraven Citadel.

There was no one about outside the castle, and Orion followed Lezander until they stood in front of doors so tall he had to crane his neck back to see the top. They were ornate and certainly imposing, but he saw no knocker, no lock or handle, just an iron spike protruding from one side.

"This would work for you too," said Lezander while he pricked a fingertip on the sharp spike, a drop of his blood oozing and apparently being absorbed into the iron, "since you have my blood."

With a screeching sound that sent a shiver down Orion's back, the doors parted open for them, and he trailed after Lezander as the vampire waltzed inside as if he was quite at home.

And then it started. They crossed paths with a multitude of vampires coming and going, the Castle brimming with activity, and all of them seemed to know Lezander in the most intimate way since they were forced to stop every time one of them bowed and swiftly started chatting with the vampire. Orion didn't understand a word, but he detected that their tones of voice were either cordially respectful or amicable.

That didn't mean that the whole delay didn't supremely irritate him. He wanted nothing more than to reach the Kraljica Mati as soon as possible – he felt as if he had waited ages for the encounter. And the Sdravkul vampires were not only wasting his time, but they also had the audacity to other completely disregard him or glance at him mistrustfully. He was certain that Lezander wasn't explaining who he was, and for that he was both annoyed and grateful. Yes, he was definitely in a tetchy mood.

And so it went as they walked along corridors, climbed up stairs, and continued on their way, halting here and there every time a Sdravkul vampire popped into sight. But Orion knew better than to complain. Lezander was a Rege, he needed to foment political ties, and that was it. It was something he could relate to and understand, so he swallowed his impatient grumpiness and followed him like a mute shadow.

It was when they turned a corner to take a flight of stairs that spiraled up a tower, when he saw someone who rang a bell.

The vampire coming from the opposite direction, chatting with his large entourage, was richly dressed in vampire fashion, yet his attire looked more regal than any other's he had seen so far, and that was saying something. He had long black hair, almond-shaped black eyes, and high cheek bones, and he didn't look remotely gaunt, sallow, or sickly starved as Orion remembered from when he had first met him.

Though the vampire was greatly changed, it was no other than Sanguini. The vampire he had met at the Christmas party thrown by Rodolphus Lestrange when the Death Eater was polyjuiced as Slughorn. The very same vampire who had briefly spoken into his mind about the Kraljica Mati and that she was the creator of the so-called vampire legend. Not only that, but he also knew that he was Mireilla's cousin, and by the looks of him, his father had already died and he had taken the leadership of the Sdravkul Clan.

"Oh, what a happy coincidence!" said Sanguini joyfully, as his party reached them. He swiftly embraced Lezander in an one-armed hug, and then a string of Romanian gibberish spilled out of his mouth.

Resigned to utter incomprehension, Orion merely observed as they cheerfully conversed, while he was scrutinized -and more often than not, glared at- by Sanguini's retinue. When he heard his name repeated in the midst of all the other foreign words, he shot them a narrowed glance, and Sanguini deviously smirked at him.

"He's my dear cousin's son, you know? My nephew, you could say," said Sanguini, patting Lezander's shoulder. "So you better treat him well or you'll not only have one, but two vampire Clans after your blood."

Orion merely scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"There, there, no reason to look terrified, we're not as bad as our reputation suggests."

"The quack Worple freed you from the leash, did he?" drawled Orion, nastily smirking at him whilst utterly disregarding the vampire's jibes. He clicked his tongue. "Such pity, when he paraded you around so prettily."

"Ouch, your kitten has claws," remarked Sanguini to Lezander, his expression jeeringly mocking.

Bristling, Orion shot him the darkest glare. "Who are you calling a-"

'Good luck with the Mati, pet!' resounded in Orion's mind, as Sanguini shot him a sly smirk before swiftly disappearing around the corner with his loud, babbling fans.

Orion gritted his teeth, glaring at the spot the vampire had vacated. He still didn't know how the vampire managed to communicate into his mind so easily.

"I liked him better when he was subdued in Worple's clutches," he muttered darkly.

"Him, subdued?" said Lezander with a fond snort.

Orion harrumphed, and then moved forwards to eye the endless spiraling of the stairway before them. "We're going up to the highest level of the highest tower?"

Lezander shot him a glance. "How did you know?"

"Figures," muttered Orion grouchily with a roll of his eyes, before he mutely started climbing up.

* * *

Next time he was coming with his Firebolt, decided Orion firmly the moment they reached the last step, Lezander looking as cool as a cucumber, while he had to catch his breath and swallow his labored pants.

"Are you alright?" said Lezander, eyeing him smugly.

"Shut it," wheezed out Orion, slumping against the wall as he wiped his forehead with a hand.

Lezander chuckled under his breath. "Oh, don't worry, after Cyprian is through with you, you'll be as fit as a fiddle."

"I'm fit now," snapped Orion crossly, scowling at him as he pushed himself from the wall. "I'm merely not used to pointless exercise."

"Sure," said Lezander mockingly, looking very pleased with himself.

Orion glared at him and yanked his shirt up, poking at his flat, taut stomach. "Do you see any fat, eh?!"

"I don't see any muscles either," pointed out Lezander, grinning at him, his sharp incisors peeking out. "You're just skinny."

"I have lithe muscles not bulging ones!" bit out Orion crisply, as he briskly pulled his shirt down.

Lezander shot him a wicked smile. "I'm not complaining, I like petite-"

"Oh, stuff a sock in it!" snapped Orion with annoyance, gazing at the door before them. "So she's in there?"

All amusement at Orion's expense disappeared from Lezander's face, and he said quietly, "Yes."

"Right," said Orion curtly, squaring his shoulders and flicking his wrist to grab the Death and Life wand that came shooting out of its holster.

"Are you expecting a battle?" interjected Lezander blandly, arching an eyebrow.

Without wasting breath to answer him, Orion grabbed the door handled, but his wrist was suddenly clutched. He shot the vampire an impatient glance.

"I'll wait for you here-"

"Fine," interrupted Orion dismissively, trying to jerk his wrist free, but the vampire only tightened his grasp. "What now?"

Lezander bore his eyes into his, as he whispered vehemently, "I never knew about the things she did, the way she pulled my strings behind the scenes or how she meddled with both our lives. You must believe me!"

Orion stared at him with a frown. "Alright."

The vampire searchingly gazed at him, before he nodded while releasing Orion's wrist. Shooting Lezander a last glance, Orion pushed the door open, nonchalantly strode inside, and firmly closed the door behind him.

The first impression he had was that the vast room was dark, the second that it was cluttered with countless books, artifacts, potions vials and whatnot, the third that there was seemingly no one there, and the fourth, that there was a strange, eerie feeling to it which made a shudder crawl down his spine.

As Orion's eyes adjusted to the dim, scarce light in the room provided by two torches in opposite walls, his gaze was first drawn to the only portrait hanging there. He glanced around with narrowed eyes once more, ascertaining that the Kraljica Mati hadn't yet decided to show up, and then approached the portrait.

It was unlike any other he had ever seen, and a twist of disgust coiled in his stomach. It was of a vampire, clearly a Sdravkul ancestor, and a very good-looking one at that, with flowing wavy long hair, strong manly features, and with eyes slightly tilted upwards like Mireilla's and Lezander's. The problem wasn't in the portrait's looks, rather of what it was made of.

It wasn't paint, it was flesh, and it looked alive. It was as if the vampire's face had been skinned from the real thing and then plastered on canvas and framed. The face protruded out of the portrait, the hair hung well beyond the lower frame, and there was a visible vein pulsing in its throat. Thankfully, the thing had his eyes closed, looking asleep, and Orion really didn't want to know if it could speak or move in any way.

He quickly moved away from it, and gazed around once more without knowing quite what to do. Then, he saw it. At the very end of the room, against a blank wall and with nothing cluttered around it, there was a thick, waist-high pillar apparently made of black marble with golden and crimson veins, though he had never seen such material before, and on top of it rested a opened, large book, as long as his forearm.

It had to be the book Lezander had vaguely mentioned, and which contained the vampire legend – that had been the only thing he had been able to glean from the tight-lipped Lezander.

Without a second breath, Orion rushed until he stood before it. The pages it was opened to were filled with elegant, ornate handwriting with flourishes, the language apparently Romanian, the borders were filled with tiny, decorative figures of diverse bright colors, and the ink of the script was crimson red, and he suspected it had been written in blood. Someone had taken a lot of care in producing and conserving the book in excellent state, since he had no doubt it had to be ancient.

Feeling his blood rushing through his veins with eager anticipation, he aimed his wand at it and cast at once a translation spell. Orion's face fell when his spell bounced off a shield of glowing magic which instantly shimmered over the book. Even though he felt deep disappointment, he knew he should have realized that the book would be well protected.

Nevertheless, when he pushed his hand through the magic, nothing happened, and he eagerly turned the pages to the beginning, his gaze becoming instantly riveted on the picture presented there.

The very first page held a masterfully done painting of the faces of three young women. There were no names, but their features were clear: the first, a handsome woman of beautiful, wavy, red hair and chestnut eyes, which seemed to gleam with devious slyness; the second, a rather ugly one of sharp, manly features, long straight black hair and grey eyes which made him think of his father and Bellatrix, and she looked clever and wise; and the third woman, the most beautiful of all, had delicate, soft features, glossy blond hair and bright green eyes, and seemed like a tender, gentle soul.

Fascinated, Orion leafed through the book, only stopping to stare at the many pictures the book held in between the narration he couldn't understand, for there was no doubt in his mind that the book told a story.

He soon realized that all the pictures were illustrations representing events, and the further along in the book, the less detailed they were, as if their artist hadn't been able to imagine them clearly but done his best – _her_ best, since the Kraljica Mati had to be the one who created this. But as he saw more and more pictures, realizing what was being told, his heart was not only hammering frenziedly in his chest, but his mind was rushing wildly with incoherent thoughts, since what he saw was completely familiar, and he couldn't understand how it was possible.

A picture of three wizards standing around a table, their faces featureless, their arms raised in the air, one holding a wand, another a cloak, and the third a ring, as if in celebration. And on top of them, the Deathly Hallows symbol was emblazoned.

Another painted page showed a woman with no other features but green eyes and red hair, with the Grindelwald crest on her chest, holding hands with two faceless wizards by her sides, one on which the Black crest had been drawn on, the other with the Potter coat of arms.

The next picture held a large drawing of the Deathly Hallows symbol, occupying the whole page, and at each of the triangle's points were three different faces. One of a child whose face was blank except for bright green eyes, black hair and a blurry scar on his forehead, another of a grown man with a crooked smirk and hawk-like hazel eyes, and the last of a handsome, dark haired man with a snake for a tongue.

Another illustration showed a young man, with completely black eyes with no whites, sharp incisors and a snake peeking out from between his parted lips, with the VA symbol drawn over his head, as the young wizard was holding up his hands in the middle of a triangle formed by a cloak, ring, and wand.

The following picture was a simple one with only shapes: a great triangle covering the entire page, with the VA symbol on its center and a different crest on each point, the Malfoy, Gaunt, and Zraven coat of arms.

And those were only the ones which captured his attention the most, since they were many, all chronologically telling a story he knew well. There were no fine details, but what they represented had certainly happened in general, one way or the other.

By the time Orion flipped to the next picture about two-thirds through the book, he felt he couldn't breathe when he fixedly stared at it. It depicted the faces of three children, only their eyes and hair showing, no other feature, and all with the VA symbol on their chest intertwined with a different crest: a dark haired boy of green eyes, with the Gaunt crest linked to the VA's, looking as the older one; a girl with long, beautiful platinum hair, the same green eyes, and with the Malfoy crest crossed with the VA symbol; and another boy, the youngest, this one with slanted pale blue eyes and dark red hair, the VA symbol locked with the Zraven coat of arms.

Orion felt as if his blood was rushing in his ears, and he couldn't peel his gaze away from them, fascinated, mesmerized, and entranced.

Finally, when he realized there was still one-third of the book left, he forced himself to turn the page.

"I have allowed you to see enough," suddenly said a deep, resounding voice strangely accented.

Utterly startled, Orion nearly jumped in the air whilst he spun around with wild, wide eyes, his breathing coming fast.

He forced himself to calm down, and gripped his wand tighter, when he saw a pair of black eyes glowing from a corner shrouded in shadows. He recognized them. They were the same eyes he believed he had seen in the room in which he had meet Mireilla and Râzvan the day he discovered Lezander was alive.

"I've been waiting for you," he said nonchalantly, quickly gaining back his composure.

"I have been here all this time," said her voice, sounding as if it came from the deepest recesses of the castle.

In the next moment, he saw how she seemed to merge out of the shadows, and he stared at her, perplexed. Out of the shadows, her eyes weren't black, but dark grey, and even though she looked unimaginably old, her face heavily lined with deep wrinkles, he instantly recognized her as the ugly young woman of the first page of the book.

He gazed at her with open fascination. He had never seen someone quite like her. She was not beautiful, and evidently had never been, by any stretch of the imagination. She was ugly, plain and simple. Even at her age, she was too tall, her shoulders too wide, her jaw too square and masculine, her eyes too small, and her nose too large and crooked.

Yet, there was strength and power in every little move she made. Her presence was so commanding that one wouldn't be able to peel his gaze away from her in a room packed with breath-taking, gorgeous people. It was also in the way she carried herself, and in her eyes, which held a deep gleam of infinite knowledge and ancient grief - such that would make anyone want to know all about her and some more, to endlessly listen to her while staring at her, captured and riveted.

Orion saw her fixedly gazing back at him, her eyes deeply scrutinizing, her expression intense.

Suddenly, before he knew what happened, he merely saw a blur and then found his chin tightly clutched, as the old woman raked a long, sharp fingernail across his cheek. Orion stood frozen in place, his mind frantically spinning, as he observed her with wide eyes. He felt blood dripping down from the cut on his skin, as she smudged a fingertip in it and then brought his blood to her lips. Her eyes were glowing in the deepest of blackness then, no longer dark grey when no light struck them, while she flicked her tongue out and quickly licked the blood from her fingertip.

She closed her eyes, slightly tilting her head backwards, and Orion still kept gazing at her without moving an inch.

"Hmm… Perfection… at last… I've waited for you…" she whispered in a low, deep and eerie voice, her words cutting through the deadly silence of the room. "Yes, you have finally arrived." She snapped her eyes open to pierce him with her intense gaze. "You will be the Vindico Atrum."

Orion mutely met her eyes, his mind swirling frenziedly. He knew two things now.

First, it had happened exactly like in one of his visions. Another had been fulfilled. No matter what he did, they kept becoming real. Not one had failed yet. And he knew it was like what Trelawney had explained to him regarding the prophecy. He had the knowledge of his visions, he inevitably acted based on such information, unwittingly or not, and therefore, his own actions, affected by them, made them come true.

There was no solution, nothing he could think of to escape from them. He didn't care about stopping the vision of what he became, of how he was in the battlefield and the things he did. But it tore him when he remembered what his dream-visions showed him doing to Voldemort, and of the existence of the baby girl and whatever happened to make him clutch his daughter with such despair.

Secondly, the Kraljica Mati had a deep, throaty voice. The female voice of his visions was soft, enticing, lulling. It wasn't the Kraljica Mati's. And it left him utterly befuddled, he had been convinced in his suspicions.

Finally pulling his mind from his grim, dejected musings, he speared the old vampire with a gaze, and stated quietly, "You're a Seer."

"I am no Seer," said the Kraljica Mati in her deep voice, staring at him impassively.

Orion frowned at her and gestured at the Book. "Then how do you explain that?"

"I wrote it many, many ages ago-"

"Exactly," interrupted Orion sharply, "then how could you have known and illustrated what would happen if you're not a Seer?"

"It was shown to me," said the old woman calmly.

Feeling his heart pumping fast, Orion said breathlessly, "You have visions, like I do? Do you know where they come from? Do you know who-"

"I never had 'visions'," interrupted the Kralica Mati in her strangely accented voice, pinning him with a stare. "I was merely shown possible future events, just like Morgana and Mordred were shown as well, and we all acted upon them in different ways, to attain what we believe is best for dark magical kind." She pointed a long-nailed finger at the Book. "In it, I recorded what I was shown. All of it came to happen because of our actions, yours included."

"Shown by whom?" asked Orion demandingly, piercing her with narrowed eyes.

A small smile curved her thin lips. "By the same who has always given you your visions."

"And that is?" snapped Orion impatiently.

The Kraljica Mati's smile widened sharply, and she breathed out, "You tell me." Abruptly, she move forwards to smack a hand on Orion's forehead, nearly startling him out of his wits, as she murmured, "The answer is in here. You must have heard Her whispering to you. You gave Her, her name. You were Her favorite child."

Orion stared at her utterly puzzled, and blinked. "You'll have to excuse me, but I haven't the foggiest idea of what you're talking about."

The old woman let out a short, impatient sigh, and abruptly yanked up Orion's right hand. "The answer is also here."

"My wand. My Death and Life wand," breathed out Orion, his eyes wide.

"Yes," murmured the Kraljica Mati as if it was an exhalation of breath, her eyes fixed on his, pressingly. "What did it whisper to you the very night you held it for the first time? She must have said Her name then, She must have reached you."

A deep frown crinkled his forehead as Orion tried to revise memories of years ago. He certainly didn't remember his wand bloody speaking to him! After what felt like hours, while the old vampire patiently stared at him with anticipation, the recollection suddenly came to him as if coming forth from vapory mists; of having heard a whispered name and then believing he had imagined it and forgotten.

"Gaia," he gasped out, his eyes widening. He stared at her with a wild look in his eyes. "Who's Gaia?"

The old woman arched an eyebrow, piercing him with an expectant gaze. "Do you know not?"

"Gaia, or gaea, I know it means 'Earth' in ancient Greek, but-"

"You are a learned one, I am glad to see," said the Kraljica Mati, an utterly pleased expression on her crinkled face. "'Mother Earth', you gave Her that name because She called you Her child, Her favorite, Her Chosen One."

"I don't remember giving anyone any name," interjected Orion, frowning at her while he felt a deep sense of foreboding apprehension. "When did this happen, supposedly? And who is Gaia?"

Kraljica impassively gazed at him. "You already know the answer to your second question."

Orion had to restrain himself with all the patience he could master to not shoot the old woman a curse and be done with her. Merlin's staff, it was like trying to get straight answers from an Oracle channeling a gaga Albus Dumbledore. She was worse than the Spirits! Going around in riddles as if they had all the time in the world. Well, being a vampire, perhaps she did, but he certainly didn't.

"The only thing that pops in my mind," said Orion gruffly, "is something impossible. Mother Earth - from what I've read, Dark Magic was called that many centuries ago-"

"Exactly!" cried the old woman triumphantly, an ecstatic expression sweeping across her deeply wrinkled face.

Orion unblinkingly stared at her, gobsmacked, before he felt his blood boiling and he spat heatedly, "If you're hoping that I'm going to believe that the Dark Source of Magic –of all ridiculous things!- spoke to me through my wand and that my visions are generated by It, then you must think me a fool! Let me tell you that I know a bit about the Sources from my Necromancy lessons at Durmstrang, and-"

"They are sentient," interrupted the Kraljica Mati, with a stern expression on her face.

"I bloody know that the Sources are sentient magical forces, but they ARE forces, deep in the Earth's core," snapped Orion crisply. "Nothing can reach the Sources, and they sure as hell don't go booming their voices into wizards' minds-"

"You, of all people, who are the Vindico Atrum, should understand it immediately," cut in the old woman curtly. "What is the Vindico Atrum if not the Tool of Dark Magic, the Avenger, the Champion of Gaia, of the Dark Magical Source!"

"Yes, I've heard that often enough," said Orion shortly, doing his best to remain patient and calm, "but it's in a metaphorical sense, meaning the leader of dark wizards! Not a wacko hearing voices and seeing visions coming to him from the far under, from a Magical Source-"

"I see what the problem is," interjected the Kraljica Mati sharply, her expression darkly furious for the first time, as she pointed an accusing finger straight at him. "You do not believe you are a Prophet! You think the legends and stories heralding your coming, the arrival of the VA, are pure superstitious idiocy believed by desperate dark pureblood wizards."

"Of course I do!" snapped Orion with a roll of his eyes. "I'm a rational wizard. They can believe whatever they like, since it quite suits my purposes, but not Calypso or anyone else is going to make me swallow that rubbish-"

"What do you think your wand is?" cried the Kraljica Mati, her expression more darkly thunderous with each passing second. "What do you think the Deathly Hallows are? All of them, unique, irreplaceable, created as links to the Dark Source." She skewered him with a piercing gaze. "The Death and Life wand, created by Gregorovitch under Morgana's instructions from knowledge salvaged from many ages ago, years of study required for its creation and completion. Created to become the Vindico Atrum's true wand. And it chose you, because Gaia had already chosen you. What do you think it does?"

"You're serious," breathed out Orion, staring at her with wild eyes, his mind frantically swirling in a mesh of rushing thoughts.

Now he could only think of Arian's words to him, about 'They'. 'They', just as the Kraljica Mati had called the Sources when she said they were sentient. Arian was referring to the Sources. The light wizard knew about what the old woman was telling him now. Arian knew and believed it, and he was already the Vindico Lumen.

Moreover, Arian had said that the two of them were what They respectively wanted –obviously meaning respective Vindicos for the Light and Dark Sources- and that They were denying them something. It was clear that Arian was referring to his inability to kiss him without both of them feeling great amounts of pain, their opposing powerful magic clashing against each other. It was clear: the Sources were keeping them apart, they didn't want them to be involved together – not that he had any problems with that.

"Of course I am in earnest, or I would not waste my time with you!" said the old woman sharply, narrowing her dark grey eyes at him. "Answer my question, now."

"I don't know what it does," grumbled Orion, jerkily carding his fingers through his hair as he fixedly gazed down at the smooth, pure white wand. "Gellert never told me, only that I couldn't lose it, ever. That it would always be my wand and that it could survive anything."

The Kraljica Mati heaved in a deep breath. "Morgana should have told you all this. You should have been ready. Her secrecy is most counterproductive."

"The Spirits just manipulate, test me, and always expect me to find out for myself," said Orion crisply, his jaw clenching. "It's the way they've always operated, because they say I have to constantly prove myself and because they claim I learn that way. They give nothing willingly and nothing for free."

"Of this I am aware," said the old woman quietly, "and for it, I am deeply remorseful. Morgana learned it from me, from my past actions I have long learned to regret, even if I was only trying to do what I believed was best."

Orion shot her a puzzled, curious frown, but she waved her hand dismissively, and murmured, "My child, the Death and Life wand is a direct link to the Dark Source. It was thanks to it, that when you were powerful enough and your magical abilities developed sufficiently, that you started having your visions. Without it, Gaia would not be able to speak into your mind and give you visions."

"If I don't have it with me, the visions will stop?" said Orion breathlessly, a glimmer of hope shining in the horizon.

The old vampire frowned at him. "No. It is binded to you and cannot be destroyed. Even if it is not in your hands, even if you leave it in the most remote corner of the Earth, it will still be linked to you. But you should not fear your visions, my child. They are a precious gift, granted by Her to you only."

"They're a curse. They become true," whispered Orion, somberly gazing at her, "and I don't want them to. But I cannot stop them. They are like self-fulfilling prophecies."

"Gaia shows you in them what She wants the immediate future to be," interjected the Kraljica Mati, her deep voice lowering to an entreating tone, "for Her sake, and thus for dark wizarding kind's sake. So that She may become stronger and more powerful as the lines become purer and their magic greater." She pinned him with her intense dark grey eyes. "The future is not fixed, it is an ever shifting, rippling infinite web of constantly intertwining threads. Gaia shows you possible events so that you act and connect the threads She wants, so that the events She requires to become stronger, may come to happen. That is what it means to be the Dark Source's Tool. The Vindico Atrum is Gaia's Weaver."

"I see," muttered Orion grimly.

"No matter what you are sacrificing, not all is bad. There are recompenses," said the Kraljica Mati, smiling at him. "Come."

The old woman waved a hand over the Book, and the pages fluttered until Orion was presented with the diagram of the VA symbol inscribed in a triangle whose points were emblazoned with the Gaunt, Malfoy and Zravens crests, respectively.

"What does this represent?" asked the old woman quietly.

Orion sighed, and replied matter-of-factly, "It's obvious. I'm the middle, and the points are Voldemort, Draco Malfoy, and Lezander, with whom I have bonds."

She swept her hand over the Book, and the pages fluttered again. "And this one?"

"Again, it represents the thrice-bonded VA – it's me," replied Orion, gazing at the picture of the young man. "The facial features represent traits as well as bonds. Sharp incisors, representing my bond with Lezander as well as the vampire traits I acquired. The snake for a tongue, representing my parseltongue ability and my bond with another parselmouth – Voldemort, the last direct heir of Salazar Slytherin, since I'm one as well but indirectly, rather convolutedly through my mother's muggle mother and through the blood James Potter gave me when he adopted me. And a Necromancer's all-black eyes, not only representing my Necromantic abilities but also that it was due to them that I have a bond with Draco Malfoy."

"I was told you were bright," she said joyfully, looking at him with satisfaction. She waved her hand again, and her gaze intensely fixed on him. "And this?"

Orion stared at the faces of the three children, feeling his heart pumping fast in his chest, his breath catching in his throat, as he whispered shakily, "My children. The Vindico Atrum's offpring. The first, who looks to be the oldest, clearly my son with Voldemort. The girl, mine with Draco Malfoy. And the youngest boy, my child with Lezander."

"These I was shown not in images, but in concepts suffused in my mind," said the old woman quietly. "I was always shown things in that manner when they were of a very distant possible future, like in the case of your children. I do not know their aspect, but I represented them as I imagined they could look like. But it is the concepts about them which are important."

"I understand," said Orion, glancing back at the girl. Indeed, she was depicted as having platinum Malfoy hair, but in his vision the baby had black hair, though he didn't know her eye color since they had been closed. "Tell me what you know."

"They will all be unique in their own ways," said the Kraljica Mati, caressing the pictures with a long, sharp fingernail, "very powerful and with distinguishing magical abilities. Your daughter will be important to the dark wizarding world, a positive force with great influence to bring change about. Your youngest son, will be born a vampire, but with deep attachments to the werewolves, due to you and how you rear him. He will be of the utmost importance for the magical creatures' world. He can possibly be their leader, bringing union not only among vampire Clans and Covens, but also healing the breach between vampires and werewolves, something never attempted or accomplished before. He will bring peace and integration."

She gestured at the book, and piercingly glanced at him. "The vampire legend is not mainly about you. It is about him. You are crucial to our kind because you are his father, and we want him to exist. He is needed."

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairlines with surprise. But he had no doubt that she was being truthful, and he then glanced at the one-third of the book still remaining. "So it's all about him after this picture, isn't it?" He shot her a frown. "Why didn't you let me see the rest of the book, if it tells about the vampire legend - about my son?"

"I did not allow his other father to see it either," she said impassively. "I told Lezander exactly what I have told you." She arched an eyebrow at him. "And would you really want to see it when you understand that knowing about it will affect your actions, and thus change what should not be changed?"

"Ah, I see," sighed out Orion. He frowned pensively, and muttered as he pointed at the face of the little girl, "The Spirits have always wanted me to be with Draco because they want us to have her, right? Because as you said, she will bring about positive changes for dark wizarding kind."

The old vampire nodded at him, and he continued musingly, his mind spinning, "And they didn't want me to be with Lezander because they don't care what happens to the world of magical creatures, they only care about dark wizards. And if I was with Lezander, then Draco and I had less chances of pairing up."

He paused, and gazed down at the Book, his eyes fixed on the face of his oldest son. "What about him? You've said nothing about him. The Spirits don't want me to have him under any circumstances. That must be why they've always wanted me to kill Voldemort and why they opposed my marriage to him so much." He gazed up and pinned her with his eyes. "Why?"

"Your firstborn," said the Kraljica Mati, warily meeting his eyes, "will be the most powerful of the three, and he might surpass you too. I only know a few things of what might come. His path is filled with uncertainty. He might become the greatest threat to all. There is a high possibility that he will be the one who will kill you when he is older."

Shocked, Orion's jaw hung agape. In the next second, he was pressing his palms on his face, rubbing wearily as he muttered grimly, "Like father like son, then. Of course that Voldemort's son would be dangerous but also the most powerful." He dropped his hands, and his jaw clenched. "But he must be capable of greatness as much as he can end up being a perilous threat. Regarding him, you spoke only of probabilities. Nothing is truly certain, right?"

The old woman merely gazed at him, and Orion gritted his teeth, feeling deeply troubled and pained. "At least tell me, will he inherit the Gaunt's mental instability?"

"I know not," replied the old vampire with a heavy sigh. "But I know everything depends on his upbringing. If you have him, you must be ever watchful of who influences his childhood. You will have to be ever careful."

"You mean that Voldemort shouldn't take part in his upbringing?" demanded Orion, piercing her with his eyes.

The Kraljica Mati remained mute, and Orion said stiffly, "Right." He waved a hand dismissively, and said musingly, "It's obvious that the Spirits want to prevent his existence, so that I, the VA, will not be endangered." He glanced up at the old woman. "But Gaia showed you the three of them. She wants me to have them. So the three of them are crucial for the Dark, my oldest included, even if he can end up badly."

"I believe so."

Orion rubbed his forehead, and grumbled somberly, "It's clear then, isn't it? If I add up what you've told me with what I see in my visions, then to make Dark Magic stronger, and thus dark wizarding kind more powerful in the future through our children and descendants, Voldemort must be sacrificed. That's what Gaia shows me. And years after I have already become the VA -fomenting positive changes for my kind, as well as bringing them back to political power- I might be sacrificied as well if my own oldest son kills me."

"Yes," said the Kraljica Mati quietly. Then she warmly smiled at him. "But your children can be your reward, your greatest pride, one of your major accomplishments and a gift to the magical world." She intensely bore her dark grey eyes into his green ones. "Now, the real question is whether you have the fortitude of character, the determination of will and the strength of heart to grant them existence."

"If you're asking me if I want to have them," murmured Orion, fixedly gazing at the pictures, feeling his heart thundering in his chest and his blood rushing through his veins with a strange feeling of longing and anticipation, "then, yes." He tore his gaze away to glance up at her, his jaw clenching with determination. "I want the three of them. After what you've told me, how could I not long to see them in the flesh, to teach them, shape them, help them become the very best they can be?"

The old woman arched an eyebrow. "Even your son with Voldemort?"

"Most specially him," exhaled out Orion, his expression turning determined. "From the sound of it, he will be like a Tom Riddle. And I'll do anything necessary so that he turns out well. He will be flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, and the most powerful, no matter whatever else. He deserves a chance." He shot her a strained smile. "And I've always liked a challenge."

The Kraljica Mati mutely gazed at him impassively, and Orion shot her a frown, as he demanded, "You don't agree with my decision?"

She smiled at him, and said quietly, "When I was younger, I made many mistakes I have learned from. I no longer exercise my influence on others when it's their choice to make, their life to live."

Orion smirked at her, and said coolly, "Yet I'm sure you purposely showed this picture to Lezander. That's why he made the decision of allowing me to be with Voldemort and Draco, as well as himself. He saw this picture, you told him about them, and knowing him, he wants them to be real as much as I do. And surely he wants his own son with me the most."

"Yes, but I told him not about any negative possibilities regarding your child with Voldemort," said the old woman calmly, pointedly gazing at him. "Whether you take the risk on your life or not, it is solely your decision."

Orion nodded, and then grinned at her. "Râzvan and Mireilla also knew about this. You showed this to them, didn't you? I remember how Mireilla muttered about me being 'thrice-bonded', a long time ago. She knew that it referred to me, knowing that I must be the father of this child-" he pointed at the picture of the pale blue eyed and dark red haired boy "-since I was a VA candidate, and the one Lezander gave his blood to. But Râzvan always wanted to ignore it, he never considered me to be suitable for his son. He wanted Lezander to be with another vampire, not a wizard. He always considered his son's relationship with me to be dangerous for Lezander-"

"Yes," interrupted the Kraljica Mati pleasantly, "I am sure Râzvan would have selected anyone but you as his son's lifemate, if he had the power to do so. He has always placed his son's safety over any other priority."

"Understandable," said Orion, finally understanding the former Zraven Rege a little bit better. He shot her a quizzical glance. "Lezander told me that you had been pulling the strings on him behind the scenes. I think I know what you did. You made the Zravens send Lezander to Durmstrang, going against vampire tradition, because you knew he would meet me there." He pointed again at the picture of his youngest future son. "Because you wanted to insure that this came to happen."

"I did," said the old woman calmly, smiling at him, before she clicked her tongue. "I believe there was a possibility that you would have attended Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang, but you seemed to have changed that the moment you discovered you were a Black." Her eyes bore into his, her deep voice turning pleasantly satisfied, "One way or the other, I would have made sure that you would have met my descendant, either during schooling at Durmstrang or after graduating from Hogwarts."

A small smile curved her lips, as she added, "I merely exercised my influence so that it happened sooner rather than later, so that the attachment between you could be deeper than otherwise. But I never manipulated and rid either of you of your free will."

"As it seems you must have done when you were a young woman, as you keep mentioning," interjected Orion, searchingly gazing at her. "Will you tell me about your past?"

The Kraljica Mati warmly smiled at him. "I will, but I tire. I am an old woman. You can visit me tomorrow."

"Then you'll tell me what you meant when you said the Hallows are also linked to the Dark Source?" pressed on Orion. "And you'll explain why you keep saying that I named the Dark Source 'Gaia', when I have no recollection of it?"

"I will," said the old vampire, her lips tilting upwards. "And I will tell you much, much more. Everything will be clear to you."

Orion widely grinned at her. "Most already is. I understand now many things which puzzled me before. Thank you."

"One thing you must understand before you leave," interjected the Kraljica Mati, a small frown on her deeply crinkled forehead. "No matter how ruthlessly Morgana's spirit has manipulated you, or how cruelly you must feel that you have been treated due to it, what has come to pass, your very existence, would not have been possible if it was not for her actions. Her aims and mine differ only in that she cares about dark wizarding kind, while I focus on the magical creatures' world. This, not only because I am a vampire myself, but because I know Morgana's spirit is always working for the benefit of dark wizarding kind. I do not condone her methods, but I admit that I alone would have never been able to accomplish a fraction of what I have, if she had not been working for her own aims." She gestured at the Book. "What is related there came to happen mostly because of her. We never joined efforts-" her lips tilted upwards "-and yet, it was when the consequences of our actions clashed that things came to be for the better."

"I thought you despised each other," interjected Orion with a puzzled frown. "At least that's what I understood from the stuff Râzvan ranted about, once."

"She despises me for what I did to her in the past, and with good reason," murmured the old woman almost inaudibly, "but I never despised her. I loved her when she lived. And despite her hatred towards me, we shared information from time to time when it was for the sake of our common goals. We still do." She pinned him with her dark grey gaze. "Do you understand what I told you?"

Orion sighed, and wearily carded his fingers through his hair. "Yes. I used to hate the Spirits to the point of wanting to kill them, but it has been quite some time since I don't feel so heatedly about it." He shrugged his shoulders. "I know that without their manipulations throughtout the centuries, I wouldn't be here. I no longer hate them for the pain and misery they caused to many. Now, I simply don't like them."

The Kraljica Mati nodded to him in understanding, and with a deep bow to her, the lowest he had ever given to anyone, and well deserved, he swiftly left the room. His mind brimmed with countless thoughts and plans, as he finally admitted to himself that, no matter how exasperating and wacky the Kraljica Mati could be, and how strangely she spoke, she was a jewel.


	35. The unraveling of ancient matters

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

It seems I didn't manage to clearly convey some points in the previous chapter. So let me clarify! *winks*

First, just some quick facts to briefly point out:

The Kraljica Mati only said Orion's son with Voldemort could be –and most probably will be- more powerful than Orion, but the same doesn't apply to his other two children. They will be powerful and with special magical abilities, but not more powerful than Orion.

Orion has never experimented with immortality since he values the integrity of his soul above anything else, and has never seen immortality as something to be particularly desired.

In the summary of this fic, there is no explicit pairing mentioned like the 'HP/LV' of the Black Heir, simply because I knew Orion would be with others during this fic, so there wasn't any misinformation given from my part – at least not wittingly because I thought readers would notice just what I've mentioned.

About Orion's relationship with Draco, it has been changing and evolving throughout the fic, starting as cousins and childhood friends, then Draco's attraction towards Orion, asking for the kiss and such, Orion later admitting to himself it hadn't felt like kissing a brother at all, but that he still wasn't interested in Draco that way –back then he was with Voldie- and then the whole absorbing of Draco's soul essence when Orion wore the Resurrection Stone right after ridding it of Voldie's piece of soul, which caused Orion and Draco to have a very strange and unique bond between them, and after that Orion not only feeling tied to Draco due to it, but also due to the feeling that he needed to protect Draco after the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts. All that, added to his slow realization that he was not only deeply attached to Draco but also attracted to him, made Orion realize that he wanted Draco just as he wanted to be with Lez and Voldie too.

I think it's necessary to fully read this fic to remember all the twists and details, which as I've mentioned many times before, all come to play in the plot at some point. I understand if some of you skim over parts, read quickly, or just ignore what seems boring, but I can't really do anything about it when then things seem illogical to a reader when one character does something or other. For instance, I find Lezander's reaction to be quite natural given what happened to him. And Draco for his part, has always despised halfbreeds, yes, but he's in quite a different situation now, so it can't be expected for him to remain exactly the same –same attitude and ideas- and not evolve at all during the entire fic. Of course neither of them will do a 180 degree turn in personality, but they will change a bit in some ways, as everyone does in real life, I believe, when they go through experiences.

*grins* Well, that's just some short remarks which I hope will clarify things, and I must thank the reviewers for bringing them up, since I always appreciate to know what remained unclear.

Now, I'll give longer explanations for other issues brought up which are also related to the above quickly mentioned:

Firstly, being the VA isn't about being a breeding mare, not at all. Orion is the most important dark wizard for wizarding kind, Gaia chose him and no one else, not even his children are as important to the Dark Source as he is. It's just that if he is to have children, the Dark Source wants him to have them with Voldemort, Draco, and Lezander, respectively, so that his children are as powerful as possible and can continue his work. Yes, the Dark Source wants Orion to have those children, but that's just a detail, his mission is much greater than simply popping out children.

Just like the Kraljica Mati said, Orion is Gaia's Tool, the Weaver who will make things happen, who will make dark wizarding kind much more powerful both in magic and politically… As mentioned repeatedly throughout the fic, the VA has tasks involving making the dark pureblood lines purer so that offspring and descendants will be more magically powerful, thus making the weakened Dark Source 'stronger'; upholding dark pureblood values and traditions, allowing them to use Dark Arts publicly as well as at home, without fearing persecution for using them; allowing their children to learn such Dark Arts not in secret at home, but in schools like Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, so that they don't have to send their kids to other countries to learn; giving dark wizards more political power in the currently Ministries controlled by light wizards, so that they have a voice when deciding matters of the magical community; and such.

In short, Orion will be the main force of change for wizarding kind, and then, Gaia wants his children to continue his legacy in their respective ways, as simple as that. But Orion will still be the one and only VA - the most important wizard for dark wizarding kind, he's their awaited 'prophet'. Even if his son with Voldemort grows to be more powerful than Orion, the boy won't be the VA. Orion is that, and there will be no other. All depends on him.

And I must point out that even though Orion's son with Voldemort can end up being more powerful than Orion, it does not mean he'll have as much magical knowledge as him. Those are two separate things. Much like how, at present, Voldemort knows much more about the Dark Arts than Orion. Both power and knowledge are important: if a wizard lacks one without the other, he's quite useless and could be bested by some other wizard who might not be as powerful but who knows more and how to wield his magic better. So Orion's son with Voldemort could be more powerful magically, but it doesn't mean that he will be more 'powerful' on the whole. I think that's partly the reason why the boy could become a threat, because he would be immensely powerful without full knowledge backing him up to allow him to make the right decisions –or 'jaded', biased knowledge misguiding him-, just as an example.

Secondly, Orion still has his Gaia-induced visions in his dreams. Even though I haven't repeated the visions for quite some chapters, it's implied that he's still having them every night. They are simply not mentioned because they are the same as in chapter 24 'The barge in the lake & the Holy One', and Orion has become quite used to them, so he doesn't wake up alarmed and panting in the middle of the night.

Thirdly, Orion's seemingly easy acceptance of what he's been told doesn't mean that he's being complacent. He's simply learning as much as he can about the matter, and then he'll have to decide what to do. If he seems to have smoothly decided to have the three children, it's because not only has he always wanted a large family but because now he understands how important they could be.

It doesn't mean that he's going to rush to have them; his concerns about having a baby during wartime, and the problems that it entails, are still present. But at least now he has realized that he wants to bear those children, some day.

Fourthly, nothing about Orion's relationships is set in stone. I know many of you don't like the idea of Orion being in a 'threesome' relationship with Lez and Draco, or of Lez and Draco pairing up due to it, but I must say that it's just how things are turning out at present - given Orion's decision when he found out about the things he did in the previous chapter, due to his attachments to Draco and Lezander, and due to Lezander's 'solution' as well. That's how I imagined Orion reacting to those circumstances. And I'm trying to do it as realistically as possible, meaning that maybe it will happen, maybe not, and even if it does, it doesn't mean it will endure forever.

Things will continue to shift in his relationships with others; that's life, that's inevitable. So don't rule anything out and don't despair thinking Orion won't pair up with the character you want, in the end. *winks* I'm not planning on having Orion constantly juggle with multiple relationships at the same time, because I don't think he would be able to, realistically, or want it in the end. But still, he's a teenager, so he's going to go through several experiences before 'settling down' or determining his true desires. (This fic is not like in canon that when Harry finds out he likes Ginny, he stays with her for the rest of his life. I never thought that to be very realistic at all, since people don't often marry their highschool 'love' and live happily ever after, and my Harry has a much more complicated life, so things in that arena are not as simple.)

Lastly, Lezander might be a bit changed after what he had to go through, but I tried to hint here and there that he's still the caring and gentle person of before, only that he has to think about his duties as the Rege and that he was forced to make a difficult decision after what the Kraljica Mati told him. He did it thinking about Orion first and foremost. Perhaps this will be clearer further ahead.

Oh, and as a perceptive reviewer pointed out, the Kraljica Mati said the future wasn't fixed and yet she stated that Orion would be the VA. The reason for her assertion will be clear in this chapter, and one has to remember that she stated that after she tasted his blood – thus confirming to herself the bloodlines he carried.

**Note:**This chapter is absolutely and utterly filled with a lot of information, much more than the previous one, and it ties most of the knots in the plot of both fics- finally! *grins* I would have liked to have made it 'lighter' and more easy to absorb, but all the info is related to one another, so there was no way for me to split it up between chapters so that it could be more easily 'digested'. So I hope you arm yourself and have patience when you read it!

**That said, I hope you enjoy it and tell me what you think!**

**And Happy New Year! I hope all of you start 2010 with a blast!**

* * *

**Chapter 35****  
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At present, Orion found himself in a situation he would have never imagined in a million years. Indeed, it rang as absurd and humorous in his mind.

There he was, seated on a plush settee, sipping the tea a millenary vampire had so cordially offered to him the moment he had stepped into her quarters in the highest level of the highest tower of Sdravkul Castle. The Kraljica Mati acting, by all means, as if they were in a garden tea party, with the only difference that while he was munching some scones with his tea, she was sipping Merlin-knew-whose blood from a golden goblet. And all the while, she pleasantly chitchatted inquiring about his day.

About that, he didn't have much to tell. The night before, after leaving her presence, he had simply returned with Lezander to Zraven Citadel and gone straight to bed, without beeping a word. From hence forth, he had gone through the next day as if in auto-pilot mode, quite feeling like a muggle robot.

He had had breakfast with the Zravens, with Cyprian and Râzvan fleshing out the particulars of how the vampire fighters should be best employed in the war in England, while Mireilla acted as the most attentive and charismatic of hostesses and while Lezander kept shooting him concerned glances - both mother and son obviously giving him his space, in their own ways.

Indeed, he had barely crossed two words with Lezander, still. There was much on his mind and it must have been clear on his face that questions at that point would not be welcomed. And even though he could tell that Lezander wanted to discuss matters with him as soon as possible, the new Rege didn't press him.

Orion went through the training drills Cyprian subjected him to, with utter obedience, yet his mind had been far, far away. Even when Lezander gently aided him, showing him how to best grasp a sword, demonstrating a multitude of fighting stances for different situations, and displaying a patience with him that Cyprian utterly lacked, Orion had still gone through his lessons in sword-fighting feeling as if he was alone in a planet of his own.

By midnight, an exasperated Cyprian had barked at him to disappear from his sight, and without a word or back glance to anyone, Orion had done so. He had rushed out of the barracks' courtyard and wasted no time in mounting a thestral and flying to Sdravkul Castle.

And throughout the day, thanks to Lezander's understanding acceptance of his desire to be left alone in his deep musings, he had had the time to decide and realize a couple of things.

First, that it had been Gaia affecting him all along which had done it. The suspicions raised by Gellert about his strange behavior when he had been a boy, about the possibility of an external influence bringing about his desire to staunchly support the Dark at the age of ten, the way he had delved into Dark Arts books as soon as he found the library in Grimmauld Place, the things Kreacher had pointed out to him, and even Gellert's suspicions regarding the 'coincidence' that Sirius had escaped from Azkaban just in time to find him fleeing from the Dursleys – all of it, now made sense to him.

All of it, must have been due to Gaia. There was no other explanation, nothing and no one else who could have done it.

And Orion knew, in his deepest level of instinctual awareness, that Gellert had figured it out. That the wizard must have known what the Death and Life wand did, that it was a link to Gaia and that if Orion had it, it was because he was meant to be the VA. That must have been why Gellert told him about his suspicions just before dying, so that he would figure it out for himself some day. The wizard had never casually told him anything without a further motive behind it – in the very same way in which Gellert had mentioned his mother ever so conversationally, so that he would discover how he was the man's grandson.

Moreover, the whole matter also had to be why Gellert decided to willingly die to give him his magic – not only because he was the wizard's grandson, but because the former Dark Lord had realized that his heir was the Dark Source's Chosen One. It hadn't been sentimentality or deep attachment to Orion which had driven Gellert to sacrifice himself –not mainly, at least- but practicality and the knowledge that he wouldn't have been able to become the VA since the Death and Life Wand had chosen Orion and not him.

Secondly, Orion determined that no matter how much he longed to create the three children the Kraljica Mati had shown him and told him about, no matter how much he realized that they were important and that he deeply desired to have them, he wouldn't act precipitously.

He still had misgivings about having children during wartime – the problems involved were numerous. He had much to do and couldn't encumber himself with such responsibilities, and he wouldn't have the time for it, either. Yet, several solutions popped in mind, since there was no doubt, given his visions, that he would have the children –at least his firstborn- not very far from now.

This was clear because in the vision where he saw himself killing Voldemort, both of them didn't look any older. And surely he would be bearing the wizard's son before killing him, so it couldn't be happening more than a few years in the future.

And his grim musings on that very same thought, had brought him to his last, most firm decision. No matter how much the Spirits insisted that he had to kill Voldemort soon, before the Dark Lord discovered the existence of the Deathly Hallows, no matter how much Komorov demanded that he started acquiring all the horcruxes for that very same reason, and how much both parties constantly pressed that he had to absorb Voldemort's magic to be powerful enough to survive the VA test, Orion still wouldn't kill the wizard he had loved for so long unless given a very good reason.

To him, it didn't matter if he failed in becoming powerful enough after undergoing Necromantic training, and if that was one more reason in everyone's mind for him to kill Voldemort and absorb the wizard's raw dark magic that lay dormant deep inside the man's magical core. To him, it didn't matter that the prophecy was almost fulfilled, and as such, according to Trelawney, nearly impossible to halt from becoming true and thus having him ultimately kill the current Dark Lord. To him, it didn't even matter that Gaia was purposely showing him how he killed Voldemort.

Long ago, he had decided to do things his way without regarding external pressures, and Gellert had fomented this rebellious independence in him. Therefore, prophecy or not, visions or not, he wasn't going to kill Voldemort. Not for the Spirits, not for Gaia, and not for anyone else.

He refused to believe that he couldn't change something so vital to him. He refused to lay down and complacently walk the path shown to him by the Dark Source. In this matter, as far as he was concerned, if Gaia wanted Voldemort dead she might as well boom out of the Earth's core and do it herself. He wouldn't be her Tool in that regard.

If he ever killed Voldemort, it would be for a reason of his own – one that had to be grave indeed. And none so far seemed like it, in his opinion. Power he could gain through his Necromantic training, and if that failed, he didn't mind undergoing the VA test even if he wasn't thought to be powerful enough to survive it. He had faith in his own strengths and abilities, and he would trust no one's opinion about it but his own. When he felt ready, he would do it, Voldemort alive and kicking or not.

"Would you care for another one?" said the Kraljica Mati, gesturing at a plate filled with pastries and scones, lying on top of a small round table by their side.

Orion held up his half-eaten scone, and gave it another bite before swallowing. "I'm fine with this one. Thank you."

The ancient vampire nodded and then pleasantly smiled at him. "I am sure there is much you are curious about. And, indeed, there is still much I feel you should know." Her expression turned distantly musing. "Yet, I am still pondering where to begin. Perhaps you could be gracious enough to ask me what you wish to learn about first."

"Er… well," said Orion with a deep, pensive frown, as he set down what remained of his scone on his tea saucer. "Um, there are a zillion things I want to ask you…"

He shot a glance at the portrait that hung above the tea table and which still made shivers run down his spine. Then he gazed at the pillar made of strange black marble veined with crimson and golden streaks, which held the Book, mere feet away from where they sat.

Orion looked back at her, his frown deepening. "The Hallows first, I suppose." At her expectant silence, he sighed and clarified, "I know that I need all three of the Deathly Hallows to undergo the VA test, but you said that they, like my wand, are linked to the Dark Source. So what do they do besides what I already know?"

He cast a puzzled glance her way, and shot an exasperated hand into the air. "I already have the Cloak, and I can get back the Resurrection Stone from the Guild whenever I want. So what am I supposed to do with the Hallows when I finally get the Elder Wand?"

"The Hallows," said the Kraljica Mati quietly, "are a key, divided in three parts. Joined, they will form it again."

"A key?" interjected Orion, blinking at her with utterly surprised befuddlement. "A key to what?"

The old woman's lips quirked upwards. "Ah, that is the crux of the matter, is it not?" Abruptly, she leaned forward on her seat, pinning him with an intense gaze, as she whispered, "They form a key to something long lost. To something which was, by nature, linked to the Sources. Something you will be able to access when you join the Hallows in a precise location you will have to find for yourself."

She leaned back and stared at him, to which Orion blinked again, his mind spinning as he demanded, "What location?" The old vampire impassively arched an eyebrow, and he huffed, grumbling under his breath, "Right. I have to find it for myself. But at least tell me what-"

"When you gain access by using the Hallows," interrupted the Kraljica Mati conversationally, "then will you be thrown into what is called the Vindico's Ultimate Test. If you survive it, you will be changed and you will become the Vindico Atrum."

"That's all very well, but I'll gain access to what?" pressed on Orion. She remained stoically silent, and his mind swirled, countless thoughts rushing and some clicking into place.

Suddenly, he stared at her as if he had never seen her before, as he breathed out, "Who are you – really?"

"I am the Kraljica Mati of the Sdravkul Clan, of course," said the old woman, arching an eyebrow at him.

"And before that?" whispered Orion, pinning her with a searching gaze. "When you were… human?"

"Oh, my, you are a clever, perceptive one, indeed!" exclaimed the old woman, clapping her hands with an ecstatic expression on her face, as she let out a joyful bout of pleased laughter. "Excellent, excellent! You surpass all my expectations."

In a blurry flash, the Kraljica Mati rose to her feet and waved a hand, making the tea table and its contents disappear in the blink of an eye. She now stood before the creepy portrait, and Orion observed with horrified fascination how she trailed a caressing finger along the portrait's fleshy cheek, to then push her fingertip into its mouth.

Something sickly churned in his stomach as he saw sharp incisors digging into her fingertip, the portrait's slanted eyes abruptly snapping open, pinning the old woman with its black gaze, as its throat gulped down her blood, slurping noises echoing in the room.

"He was my husband, and I made this portrait of him after he died," said the Kraljica Mati calmly, still feeding the… thing. Her eyes gleamed, and she made a swift zipping motion over her mouth. "I made it mute."

"Er… good for you," said Orion waveringly, the portrait creeping the hell out of him as its eyes flickered from her to him and back, while it continued to gulp down her blood, the mouth sipping and slurping.

"Would you like to feed him?" said the old woman, as if it was the greatest honor to be had, while she withdrew her finger.

"No, thanks, it's alright," replied Orion quickly, his face paling.

The Kraljica Mati knowingly smiled at him, before she gestured at the portrait. "He became my husband, my first and only, after I chose him as a means for an end. After I spent several centuries expanding my lifespan by undergoing many rituals and realizing that I would need to do something more drastic to live long enough to reach my aims, to work for and see the rise of the Vindico Atrum."

"So… you decided to ask a vampire to turn you into one?" said Orion slowly, staring at her.

"Yes, but I did not ask just any vampire," interjected the Kraljica Mati, shooting the portrait a proud glance. "I chose a man of great learning, wisdom, and strength of character. A King to his country, a leader of his people, and the foremost warrior of his religious faith. I heard rumors about him, about the war against the Ottoman Turks he had led and won, at great personal expense. I heard muggles whispering, terrified, about what he had become during the battles. Indeed, he had been turned by a rogue vampire, a Turk in his enemy's army." She pointedly stared at him. "I chose Vlad Sdrav-"

"Vlad Dracul?!" interrupted Orion incredulously, remaining still on his seat as he gazed up at her disbelievingly. "Lezander told me it was pure rubbish! Surely you're not going to tell me that the muggle novel-"

"Lezander did not know the truth until very recently," interrupted the Kraljica Mati with a wave of her hand. "Indeed, my past is hardly something I share with others." She gazed at him, and added curtly, "And it is not 'Dracul', but Sdravkul. History is rarely recorded accurately. And you, of all people, should already know that to every superstition there is some truth. To every murmured rumor, there is some fact. The muggle novel was based on the frightened mumbles of Rumanian peasants."

Pausing, she shot him a pointed glance. "In the same way that the seemingly innocent Tale of the Three Brothers was created by a bard who had heard rumors regarding the Peverell brothers, turning such rumors into warning metaphors."

Orion stared at her blankly. "So you're Elisabeta? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"No, indeed not," said the old woman calmly, arching an eyebrow at him. "When Vlad set out for war, he was betrothed to a young muggle woman of great beauty he deeply loved, called Elisabeta, the daughter of a nobleman in Vlad's court. And she was indeed the one for him, since when he was turned into a vampire, he then knew instinctually that she was his lifemate. But before he could return to his country from the war, she-"

"Killed herself," interrupted Orion, his mind spinning as he tried to quickly sort things out. "That part is true, then? That she committed suicide believing he had been killed in battle?" The old woman nodded, and he continued quickly, as he searchingly gazed at her, "But he was a vampire, and not a magical one, since he had been a muggle. So you heard of him and came to this country, to find him? And you helped him, perhaps, to understand what he was. And then you…"

He trailed off, frowning pensively. The Kraljica Mati smiled at him, and prompted, "Yes, and then what did I do?"

"You were a dark witch," muttered Orion, his frown deepening as he fixedly stared at her to detect every twitch in her wrinkled face. Her smile widened as if in confirmation, and he continued slowly, "He didn't know about the magical world, and you must have revealed it to him when you helped him understand what he had become. He must have been deeply grieving and torn apart after losing his lifemate, but you still ended up marrying him. He ended up turning you into a vampire…"

Abruptly, his eyes widened, and he blurted out, "You made a deal with him! He turned you, made you his mate and Queen, and thus gave you the long lifespan you desired. And in exchange, you gave him children – magical ones! And thus he turned his bloodline into a powerful magical one, thus the two of you founded the Sdravkul vampire Clan!"

"Precisely," said the Kraljica Mati, shooting him a pleased smile, "after much persuasion from my part."

Orion gaped at her, as he jerkily carded his fingers through his hair. "Merlin's beard! So who were you before all that?"

"When I was a dark witch," said the old woman calmly, "I was related to the-"

"The Peverells!" cried Orion, jumping to his feet while his mind spun in a havoc of rushing thoughts, as the realization struck him like a lightning bolt. He stared at her with wide eyes, and rambled quickly, "Of course! Through Mireilla, Lezander is your direct descendant, the last one, since I know Sanguini isn't-"

"The current Rege of Sdravkul Clan," interjected the Kraljica Mati conversationally, "comes from the line of Vlad's younger brother. In a political coup and due to plots from within the court, both Radu cel Frumos – Radu the Handsome – and Vlad were taken as hostages by the Ottoman Sultan, when they were young. Radu, just a boy, was taken by the Sultan as a catamite, no matter how much Vlad tried to protect him. Vlad was released not long after, but Radu was not. When both brothers met time after, they did so as enemies in the battlefield. Radu had grown into a young man, still a favorite of the Sultan but no longer a boy, thus no longer his catamite. Yet Radu had been raised by the Sultan and had become loyal to him."

Her lips tilted upwards, as her deep voice lowered to a pleasant murmur, "And once Vlad understood the power he had as a vampire, he did the only thing possible to recover his only brother left. He followed my advice and concerted a meeting to negotiate a truce after winning the war against the Sultan, with the condition that Radu had to act as one of the Ottomans' representatives. In the meeting, Vlad the Impaler, as he was called by then, slaughtered everyone except his brother, who he swiftly turned into a vampire. And who was soon persuaded by both of us to join us in creating the Sdravkul vampire Clan."

"Yes, yes, whatever," said Orion impatiently, waving a hand dismissively. "But the point is that Sanguini isn't your descendant. I didn't particularly know exactly how he wasn't your descendant. And it's all very well that now I know that it's because he is the descendant of this Radu person and whichever witch he took as a mate, but it hardly matters to me!"

He pinned her with his gaze, and added frenziedly, "What matters is that I'm sure you were related to the Peverells! It finally clicked in my mind." He stared at her with wide eyes, and breathed out, "The three of them come from Peverell lines, that's why they are my 'bonded mates', one way or the other, so to speak. Voldemort comes from Ignotus, through the Gaunt bloodline. Draco has some of Cadmus' blood in him, because my line, directly descending from Cadmus, frequently mixed with the secondary Black bloodline of Narcissa's family. So it's evident that Lezander must also have Peverell blood – from you! That's why I'm his lifemate – Peverell blood in me calling to Peverell blood in a vampire!"

Pausing, Orion heaved in a deep breath, wildly looking at her. "And that's why Gaia wants me to have children with them, because my children would be the result of crossing the Peverell lines once again! Us, the four remaining descendants of the Peverells, would be uniting our lines. And my children will be so powerful due to it, since in me the three Peverell lines are already merged! Am I right?!"

The Kraljica Mati smiled at him with satisfaction. "You are."

"So who are you?" pressed on Orion, piercing her with a searching gaze. "A cousin of the Peverell brothers, an unknown sister, a-"

"Indeed not," interjected the old woman impassively. "There were only the three brothers, no other Peverell lurking about."

Orion stared at her befuddled, and then snapped accusingly, "But you just admitted to be related to the Peverells!"

"Ah, but I did not say I had been their contemporary," said the Kraljica Mati stoically. She arched an eyebrow at him and pinned him with an intense grey gaze. "I was an ancestor. Surely the suspicion regarding where the brothers came from has entered your mind. From whom they descended-"

"The Spirits," choked out Orion faintly, his eyes wide as he plopped down back on his seat, his mind spinning chaotically. "Yes… it had entered my mind… And I believe Calypso's as well, though we never voiced it to one another…"

Shaking his head to clarify his jumbled, jumping thoughts, he took in a deep intake of air, and said slowly, "So…the Peverell brothers were Mordred's descendants... That's why the brothers were so powerful and why the Spirits worked so hard to improve the Peverell lines by making them, through manipulating the minds of many, cross with other powerful dark bloodlines like the Slytherin, the Black, the Grindelwald, the Malfoy… and even former dark lines like the Potter… and Merlin knows which other else! The Spirits have been improving their very own line…"

He laid out his palms open on his knees, staring at them with wide eyes, not quite knowing what to feel, as he breathed out, "Then I'm Morgana's and Mordred's descendant, the most direct one, the purer one, the most powerful one, because in me are the bloodlines of all three Peverell brothers…"

"My child," said the Kraljica Mati, her lips curving upwards, "you are much, much more than that."

Orion's gaze snapped up to her. "What do you mean?" He frowned, pierced her with narrowed eyes, and bit out, "And who the bloody hell are you then? You said you were the Peverells' ancestor, so you must mean that you're related to Morgana and Mordred. Then who-"

"I was once called Vivian," interrupted the Kraljica Mati calmly.

Dumbfounded, Orion stared at her as if she had just told him she was Merlin reincarnated himself. His eyes grew wide like saucers, flabbergasted, his mind spinning frenziedly, and he choked out faintly, "The Lady of the Lake."

The old woman widely smiled at him.

"The Last Mistress of Avalon!" cried Orion, jumping to the air, finding himself standing on wobbly legs. "Morgana's aunt! Calypso told me about you – she incessantly pestered me until I was forced to read a bunch of books about you!"

"Ah, historians," said the old woman with a dismissive wave of her hand. "They hardly ever get the facts straight. Allow me to inform you that most of what is written about me, and my times, is glaringly inaccurate."

Blinking, Orion stared at her dumbly, and pointed a finger at her. "You're the Lady of the Lake."

"Yes, I thought we had already agreed on that," said the Kraljica Mati, arching an amused eyebrow.

"Merlin's sagging scrotum, you are-"

"Yes, I am!" snapped the old woman impatiently, a scowl on her deeply wrinkled forehead.

Feeling faint at the mere thought of who was before him, Orion clutched the back of an armchair, and he croaked out the first question from millions which popped into mind, "Then what do the joined Hallows grant access to?"

The old woman brightly smiled at him, and rushed out quickly, as if she had waited ages, as indeed she had, to finally impart such information, "Why, to Avalon of course. Long lost, ever after long sought out, and finally possible to reach again by the Vindico Atrum, after Morgana's spirit found a way to create a key to it – the Hallows."

Orion was still dazedly staring at her, when she said briskly, "Snap out of it, child! This is of the utmost importance!"

Jerkily shaking his head, as if he had been doused by chilly cold water, Orion wildly gestured with his arms. "And what I am supposed to do in a bloody mythical island, pray tell?! How will stepping into Avalon 'throw' me into the VA test, as you put it?!"

"That," said the Kraljica Mati coolly, "you will discover once you join the Hallows in a certain location, and once you are in Avalon." She shot him an impassive gaze. "And Avalon was not an island, but two."

"Two?" repeated Orion slowly, his mind spinning incoherently.

"Yes, two," said the old woman shortly, pinning him with a stern gaze, "separated by mere inches – twin isles. One I could access, as well as any other powerful dark witch or wizard could have if they knew where to look and if I allowed them, and which I reigned and controlled in my time, as the Lady of the Lake. The other, though I tried, I could never enter. I believe Merlin was the only one who ever had. I expect you will be able to enter the former and not the latter."

"By nature linked to the Sources, you said…" muttered Orion, staring at her piercingly. "You were referring to this. To Avalon. To its two isles."

The Kraljica Mati pleasantly smiled at him. "I am glad to see your wits are coming back to you."

"So you're telling me," said Orion with a deep intake of air, boring scrutinizing eyes into hers, "that one isle is linked to the Dark Source and the other, the one Merlin could go to, is linked to the Light Source?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed the old woman, clapping her hands together, looking thoroughly satisfied. "One linked to Gaia, the other to Gaius."

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he couldn't help himself. A loud, boisterous laughter erupted from his throat, tears of mirth leaking from his eyes, as he clutched his stomach, laughing so hard it hurt.

"It is no laughing matter, child!" snapped the Kraljica Mati, shooting him a jaundiced glare.

"It's too rich! What idiot came up with that name?"

"Merlin did, of course," said the old woman sharply. "Gaius means-"

"'Light' in old Latin," interrupted Orion, now sniggering under his breath, using a fingertip to squish a tear of mirth from his eyes. "I know, I know. It's simply funny. He could have been a bit more creative. Gaia and Gaius…" He shook his head and then shot her an amused grin. "I'm starting to pity the poor Sources now-"

"They were lovingly given names," interjected the Kraljica Mati sharply, "and accepted them as the tributes they were."

"Fine, fine," said Orion with a last chuckle, waving a hand. He shot her a quizzical glance. "But still, they are genderless. They are Forces from which we take our magic, to which our souls go to after their Ultimate Transcendence as mere metaphysical fodder, and which absorb our magic back when we die." He arched an eyebrow. "Yet when Gaia speaks in my visions, the Dark Source uses a female voice, so is it-"

"Both Sources, as far as I know, can use any voice," said the old woman stoically. "But long since, Gaia uses a female one and Gaius a male's."

"Oh. To each his own, then, I suppose," said Orion with a careless shrug. He frowned, and shot her a piercing glance. "Hang on. So the isles were respectively linked to the Sources 'by nature', and you told me that Gaia never gave you visions, but she somehow showed you things. So are you telling me that Avalon had-"

"There was a cave in Gaia's Isle," interrupted the Kraljica Mati in a low whisper, boring her dark grey eyes into his green ones as she leaned towards him, her tone secretive and urgent. "A cave with a small pond, which we called The Scrying Waters. On the pond's rippling black surface, I was shown things. And when I meditated with deep concentration by its side, I could hear Gaia's voice in my mind, she could communicate with me, by that means." She shot him a pointed glance. "I have long since believed that the waters of that small pond came from a deep underground river, plunging to depths-"

"Reaching the Earth's core," breathed out Orion, his eyes wide, his mind working fast. "The Dark Source found a way of magically connecting with a deep underground river. A river that if not for magic, would have never reached such depths, since temperature and pressure alone would have evaporated it."

The old woman widely smiled at him. "Precisely. Gaia found a way to break to the surface and to communicate with her children, dark wizards and witches – us, who were in Avalon and protected it."

"And the Light Source?" asked Orion with a pensive frown, feeling breathless. "Did It manage to do the same?"

"I know not," replied the Kraljica Mati impassively. "I never confided in Merlin in regard to Avalon's Dark Isle, and he never confided in me about what he knew of Gaius' Isle."

Orion's frown deepened, and he eyed her closely. "But it's still a possibility... You said Avalon was lost, and that Morgana's spirit invented the Hallows, and obviously instructed the Peverell brothers to create them so that Gaia's Isle in Avalon could be accessed again, by the VA. How was Avalon 'lost'?"

"I scarcely know how or why," replied the old woman, heavily sighing. "When I lost everyone I loved, when Arthur was killed, when my sisters had died, when Merlin disappeared, killed by Morgana, and when Morgana and Mordred fled…" She shot him an intense glance. "In essence, when Camelot –as our country was called back then, not yet 'England', but still a union of small, previously warring kingdoms, united by Arthur following Merlin's aims- broke into small fiefdoms, Avalon could simply not be reached again. I could not part the magical mists that had always enveloped it and kept it hidden from muggles. I believe that Gaia was weakened then, by our actions and the atrocious consequences."

"I see," murmured Orion pensively, his mind spinning. He glanced up at her, closely inspecting her. "Is it possible that there's something similar to the Deathly Hallows, but which works to grant access to Gaius' Isle, as you call it?"

"You are thinking about the Dumbledore boy, Arian Valenor," stated the Kraljica Mati, her eyebrows climbing up.

"Of course I am," said Orion flatly, a scowl on his face. "He's already the Vindico Lumen – I have no doubt he was honest in that regard, given his power. And you've told me that to become the VA I must find and go to Avalon's Dark Isle. Hence, it only follows that Arian, at some point, managed to enter the Light Isle. And thus, he did whatever he had to do to become the VL." His eyes narrowed to slits, and he bit out, "Therefore, I want to know what he used to accomplish it, if there is such thing."

"I believe there is," whispered the old woman, leaning towards him as if revealing the greatest of secrets, her innermost suspicions. "Excalibur-"

"You must be joking," interjected Orion disbelievingly, a snide snort about to issue from him. "The sodding sword?!"

"Muggles and their flimsy legends," said the old woman with an annoyed expression on her face, her tone crisp. "It was never a sword!"

"What was it, then?" snapped Orion, leveling at her a hard, demanding gaze, starting to see that she was indeed being serious.

"That, I never knew," said the old woman shortly. "Merlin kept his secrets as much as I did. But I assure you that it was a light magical artifact created by him, and certainly not a sword plunged into a rock waiting to be pulled out by the future King!"

Orion warily rubbed his forehead. "Alright, alright." He shot her a shrewd glance. "So you believe it was created to be linked to the Light Source, much like my wand and the Hallows are to the Dark Source, right?"

She stiffly nodded at him, and he pressed on, "And it's possible that-" he grimaced at the name "-Excalibur, whatever the bloody hell it was, could still exist. And that Arian could have found it and used it to access Avalon. Correct?"

"Yes," replied the old woman coolly, "it is possible."

"So," said Orion sternly, piercing her with narrowed eyes, "what can you tell me about Arian?"

The Kraljica Mati arched an impassive eyebrow at him. "Need you ask?"

"He's Merlin's descendant, isn't he?" bit out Orion, jerkily carding his fingers through his hair, feeling as if something was heavily plummeting to the pit of his stomach. "I am Morgana's and Mordred's, and by all means, also yours, and he's Merlin's! All of the bloody business is about those times. The Vindicos chosen by the Sources from bloodlines that had to do with you people, respectively. The Light Source, of course choosing one of Merlin's descendants. The descendant of the most powerful light wizard in history, who could happily trot around Gaius' Isle. And the Dark Source choosing me, the most powerful descendant of the most powerful dark bloodlines of those times, of you, Morgana and Mordred, who I'm sure could access Gaia's Isle just as you could."

"It is possible that the Dumbledore line comes from Merlin," she conceded calmly, piercing him with her grey gaze. "If there was such a line, I believe it could only be, indeed, the Dumbledore one. But Merlin could not have children, of that, I am certain. Yet, I also know he had always secretly planned on magically adopting a child who could carry his magic, and thus produce a line for himself."

"Right," said Orion tartly. "In short, Arian is his descendant, however it came to happen." He wildly shot a hand into the air. "Bloody fucking fantastic! Just what I needed-"

"There is no cause for dramatics," said the old woman sharply. "You will be his match when you become the Vindico Atrum, and that is all there is to it, child."

Orion shot her a sour glare, and then scoffed, squaring his shoulders. "Fine. Let's get back on track to the important stuff. I'm starting to understand a couple of things…"

He took a mere few steps to reach the Book perched on the pillar of strange black marble, and swiftly opened it to its first page, to point at the picture of the faces of the three young women. "You're Morgana's aunt - that one. And now that I know this, I know who these two must be. From what I've read, they were your sisters. The beautiful blond one with green eyes, Morgana's mother - Igraine. And the youngest, the red-haired with brown eyes, who raised Mordred, was Morgause. Right?"

The Kraljica Mati nodded, her gaze fixed on the pictures with longing, grief, and a whole other mesh of emotions Orion couldn't quite decipher. "Yes, but there was no youngest or oldest between us. We were triplets, as hard as it must be to believe given our vastly dissimilar features."

She shot him a brief glance, before gazing back at the illustration, as she murmured, "And that was the only thing we knew about ourselves when we were children. We were found in a forest, you see. Three small babies crying in the night, a muggle servant found us and took us to her mistress. A great Lady, a barren muggle woman married to the King of a small principality, one of many in what now is called England and back then had no name, for it was a land fractioned in many fiefdoms. Our new 'mother' was good to us, since she could have no children of her own. And her husband gave us our names as well as his surname."

"If you didn't know who had been your parents," said Orion puzzledly, "how did you know you and your sisters were triplets?"

"Oh, it was obvious to us from the moment we realized we were special," replied the Kraljica Mati, a wide smile on her face. "Since the moment we realized we could do fantastic things, 'magical' things. You see, we shared a unique link between our minds. And one day, when we were merely five years old-" she chuckled under her breath "- we escaped from the tyranny of our nursemaid and went to explore a nearby forest rumored to be the home of Druids."

Orion blinked at her, and said flatly, "Druids?"

"Quite so, because we had heard they were people who did 'strange' things, and since we were 'strange' given the magic we could do, we had the fanciful idea that perhaps one of them had been our father," said the old woman, her lips tilting upwards in remembered amusement. "Of course, it was not the case. They did not know anything about us, but they did cast a spell on us, to see and confirm to us if we were triplets as we believed. And we were." She chuckled again, shaking her head. "It was Morgause who threw a temper tantrum and made them yield to our demands. She was always the most unscrupulous of us three, as well as ruthlessly ambitious. She even…"

She trailed off, and glanced at him uncertainly, before her expression smoothened as she said impassively, "Merlin was much like us, with the difference that he was found when a baby by the Druids themselves, many decades before we came to be. He was raised by them, as well. And, obviously, he was a light wizard, not a dark one like my sisters and I."

A slight frown spread on her wrinkled forehead, as she added quietly, "He once said he had discovered his origins… that he was the Light Source's child… the result of Gaius' insertion of His 'magical seed' in a woman…"

Orion was shot a brief glance, as she continued in a low, hesitant murmur, "Morgause came to believe similarly about us. She claimed once to have undergone a ritual of her own creation to ascertain if we were Gaia's direct daughters, the result of a magical conception of sorts. My sister claimed it was true-"

"Is that even possible?" gasped out Orion, gaping at her uncertainly, thoughts jumbling in his mind. "I mean, for the Sources to have done that, respectively creating-"

"I know not," interrupted the Kraljica Mati curtly, briskly waving a hand dismissively. "I am merely relating to you what Merlin and my sister claimed. I was never shown proof of it, by neither of them. And I never sought answers from Gaia about that matter – the audacity it would have been for me to even attempt to do so!" She leveled a hard gaze at him. "Daughters of Gaia or not, in my mind, all of us, dark wizards and witches, were her children and I would not ask for anything more."

Orion slowly nodded at her, not quite convinced, and knowing that he, in her shoes, would have delved into it until knowing everything, even if it meant disrespecting a Magical Source which evidently was considered God-like in those times – and currently, still. But he wouldn't press the matter, since he could see that the old vampire was quite unwilling to explore it and he didn't want to be kicked out before knowing about all the rest.

"Alright," he said nonchalantly, clearing his throat. "So you and your sisters went to the Druids, but why did you-"

"You must understand how different those times were," interrupted the Kraljica Mati calmly, her expression smoothening to a pleasant one. "The Celtic Druids were the only ones who held magical knowledge, and they kept to themselves. We had no one else to turn to." She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, there were people with magical abilities scattered here and there, intermingled with muggles. But there were no magical schools, and most simply went through their lives as muggles, never using their magic and quite forgetting about it. Very few became wizards and witches, and most of those who did was because they sought out the Druids and asked to be taught. As we did."

Riveted in her story, Orion asked quietly, "You went back to them, then?"

"Certainly," she said firmly. "As often as we could slip out of the castle without being detected. Oh, our 'mother' knew what we were, and it frightened her, I believe, and did her best to bring us up as noble, 'normal', young ladies. But she was still good to us. You see, in those times, a woman's sole duty was to bear children. If she failed in that, she was useless. Therefore, she treasured us greatly, despite we did 'strange' things, because her husband and lord had accepted us as his own."

The Kraljica Mati caressed the pictures on the Book, as she added in a murmur, "In the end, it was thanks to the Druids that we became young witches of great understanding in magical matters. They were the first ones, in our lands, to realize the differences between them – in essence, to discover that some of them had dark magic and others light. And they had already formed their little clusters depending on the kind of magic they could wield, and thus study to better understand their abilities and to create more spells."

Orion frowned at her. "But the Egyptians, Persians, and Hindu Indians, to name some, had already-"

"Yes, that is true," interrupted the old woman, sharply nodding at him. "Wizards in other civilizations had already discovered much, they were much more advanced. But we lived in what is called now England, yet an island back then to which only news and some knowledge filtered through from merchants and passing-by travelers and scavengers who went here and there to make a nomadic living where they could – bards, and the like. There was hardly any communication between civilizations, in those times. And our kind had as many difficulties as muggles in that respect, since apparition was not discovered until much later."

"So it was from the Druids that you learned of Avalon, wasn't it?" said Orion, closely regarding her, his mind swirling.

"Precisely," said the Kraljica Mati, shooting him a pleased smile. "They chose me in the same way they chose the previous Lady of the Lake. I was taught how to use my dark magic to see it, to part the mists, to enter it, and there learn from the Druids who lived in Gaia's Isle, forming a small community of dark wizards and witches."

"Only you. What happened to your sisters?" prompted Orion, listening intently.

"Morgause was not pleased to be excluded," replied the old woman with heavy sigh. "But by then we were fourteen, already young women of marriageable age, in those times, and she married a great Lord of a kingdom in the north. That, at first, satisfied her ambitions." She shot him a wary glance. "Much later, when Mordred was born, Morgana entrusted her son to Morgause, and my sister raised him as a vehicle to attain power. It did not end well."

"I expect not, given what wizarding history books have to say about the matter," said Orion with a grimace. "And your other sister, Igraine, simply married as well, right?"

"Oh, but quite differently," interjected the Kraljica Mati, with a soft, yet pained smile on her face. "Igraine was the most powerful of us three, and also the one with fewer aspirations other than forming a family. She simply wanted to be a mother. I believe that was why the Druids chose me instead of her, despite she surpassed me magically. Igraine simply wanted to have a loving family, she didn't care much about power."

She looked at him, and added quietly, "She married Gorlois, a Lord of his own land and castle, and a dark wizard as well, though he never trained his magic, learned, or had any interest in it. He was simply a warrior king. Igraine loved him deeply and she bore him Morgana."

"So Morgana was a pureblood," piped in Orion musingly. "And I know what happened next if the stories are to be believed. Merlin wanted to unite all kingdoms under one rule, so that the land wouldn't be ravaged by the constant wars and there could be peace among muggles. Uther Pendragon was the strongest Lord of those times, his kingdom vast and his army great. And-"

"And he was the greatest enemy of Gorlois and lusted after Igraine," interrupted the Kraljica Mati shortly, her expression hard. "Yes. And Merlin, allied to him, and known and beloved by all muggles as a great wizard of goodness, aided Uther with magic to pose as Gorlois and bed Igraine just after Uther had killed Gorlois in battle."

"And so Arthur was born," concluded Orion grimly.

"Yes, and Igraine died in childbirth," murmured the old woman, her tone somber, "and I believe, from the grief of losing the husband she had loved so deeply and bearing the child of his murderer."

She shook her head, and pierced him with her grey gaze. "Despite what is believed by wizarding kind, Arthur was never a light wizard. He was a dark half-blood, reared by Merlin as a light wizard and as a muggle warrior and future king. Merlin did not need Arthur to be magically powerful. He simply needed a son of Uther, since the muggle Lord had the greatest claim to the throne of several kingdoms besides his own, and thus, so did his son. Merlin just needed a Pendragon. Therefore, after Igraine died, Morgana being too young to take care of her newborn brother, I tied to Avalon due to my duties as the Lady of the Lake, thus unable to rear him or take him there, and my remaining sister Morgause uninterested in him, Merlin took the baby and raised him under his wing, as was Uther's wish as well."

She paused, and then added matter-of-factly, with a quick wave of her hand, "Years later, Uther died when conquering a neighboring kingdom, passed his throne to Arthur as well as all claims to other thrones, and Arthur, a young man by then, started his campaign, as was Merlin's plan. Arthur led his Knights and armies in wars across the lands, and soon united all kingdoms and named the new nation Camelot. By then, Arthur was in Merlin's clutches and none of us could change it when we realized what had happened. He revered the old man."

"And you acted then," interjected Orion, piercing her with a narrowed gaze. "You took a leaf out of Merlin's book, didn't you? That's why Morgana and Mordred hate you so much. As you said, Igraine was the most powerful of you three, and more so was Morgana since she was Igraine's daughter having the addition of more dark magical blood from her father, Gorlois, a dark wizard, however uneducated in magic."

He paused, his eyes narrowed to slits, as he added crisply, seeing where all of it was leading, "You wanted someone powerful in dark magic, and decided a child of yours wouldn't do as well as a grandson of the powerful Igraine. One with Igraine's blood, two-fold, so he could be even more powerful than otherwise. So you made Morgana unwittingly sleep with her own half-brother. Those stories are true. You made Morgana conceive a child with Arthur, during a Beltane fertility celebration, both masked and unrecognizable to each other, since they had been parted since childhood when Merlin took Arthur."

"I did," whispered the Kraljica Mati, a torn expression on her face. "And I regret it to this very day." She shot him an intense, stern glance. "Morgana had been my apprentice. She would have become the next Lady of the Lake. The greatest one, since like her mother, she surpassed me magically. Either of them, Morgana or Mordred, could have taken my place. Mordred, most of all, was of vital importance, since as a mere child, when Morgana brought him to me, he could already access Gaia's Isle-"

"What's done is done," interrupted Orion caustically, then letting out a snort. "You wanted Mordred and he ended up in your sister Morgause's clutches, because Morgana turned against you the moment she realized what you had made her do. Though, I don't think Morgana could have suspected what her other aunt would end up doing, betraying her as well."

"Indeed, Morgause raised Mordred to hate Arthur," interjected the old woman in low murmur, "since she wanted him to be King and thus wield power through him. She was ruthless in her ambitions-"

"And it all went pear-shaped," interrupted Orion shortly, with a wave of his hand. "You were the only one to survive, and Morgana and Mordred fled to find a remote place in which to found a school and pass on their knowledge in the Dark Arts."

He frowned musingly, and added sharply, "Avalon was 'lost', you spent some centuries roaming about and expanding your lifespan through rituals, until you heard rumors about Vlad Sdravkul. And just like yourself, Morgana and Mordred realized that their natural lives would not give them enough time to attain their goals. And they went through whatever ritual they used when sacrificing their lives, and turned into souls anchored to this plane. And so, the Spirits and you worked separately to bring about the Vindico Atrum Gaia had 'told' you about, or shown you, in The Scrying Waters."

The Kraljica Mati calmly nodded at him. "Yes, indeed, but-"

"No," bit out Orion crisply, holding up a hand. "There's nothing more I need to know. It was from you that Morgana and Mordred learned to manipulate in order to get what they wanted. Their idea of doing whatever it took, without any consideration to anyone, in order to cross bloodlines throughout the centuries, came from what Merlin did to Igraine and what you later did to Morgana. That's clear. And to think I despised them for it, when it was basically Merlin and you who started-"

"You are missing an important fact," interrupted the old woman stoically, pinning him with a severe gaze. "There is one last realization you must come to, one last matter I need to convey. It is of the utmost importance."

"What is it?" prompted Orion flatly.

"There were several things I mentioned before and which you failed to recognize," said the Kraljica Mati calmly, intensely staring at him. "You were told you had named the Dark Source 'Gaia'. You were told that you are much more than simply Mordred's direct descendant through the Peverells. And you were told Gaia had chosen you, that you were her favorite. Do none of these things make you realize anything?"

Utterly befuddled, Orion frowned at her, and snapped impatiently, "What on earth are you trying to get at?"

The old woman shot him a dissatisfied glance, before her hand moved in a blurry flash, two things instantly happening at once. A small table popped into existence right in front of them, and something came shooting from a small cabinet at a corner, its doors flinging open.

When it was resting on top of the conjured table, Orion finally saw what it was, and he glanced up at her, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "A pensieve? You have a memory to show me?"

"I do," said the Kraljica Mati sternly, whipping out a wand from the pocket of her dark purple, long gown of vampire fashion. In the next blink of the eye, she was already extracting a silver tendril from the side of her forehead, instantly laying it inside the empty pensieve. She gestured at it, and said shortly, "After you, child."

Orion shot the basin an apprehensive glance, before he sighed and dipped his head inside. Immediately, he was plunged into a dizzying swirl, and then he found himself standing besides the Kraljica Mati who was already by his side.

He looked around, now very curious about what the memory was showing him. They were in some kind of great courtyard, adorned along its walled sides by beautiful flowers and statues scattered here and there, whilst people paraded about in small groups. They had to be muggle nobles of the Arthurian court, given their rich attires with thigh-long doublets with puffed out sleeves, their tights, and the thick, gemmed necklaces their wore. There were also some ladies with flowing gowns similar of those of pre-medieval fashion, many of them with small silver diadems on their hair with encrusted gems.

He also saw some men who looked like warriors… No, like knights, given their mesh armors, their swords, and the long capes they wore. All of them certainly looked prosperous. There was no doubt Arthur Pendragon had managed to create a wealthy kingdom which ran smoothly.

However, he could detect that there was something bothering them, since they moved around in tight groups, whispering among themselves with troubled expressions on their faces. And even if he strained his hearing, the few words he caught here and there didn't remotely sound familiar. He realized they were speaking in some kind of mix between the saxon and welsh languages – it was Old English, he surmised. Though there were some very few words he caught which vaguely sounded like modern-day English, like 'father' and 'king'.

"Merlin had disappeared the day before, and Camelot was already in a state of great commotion due to it," said the Kraljica Mati conversationally, still by his side. "Morgana killed him, though I know not the particulars or what was done with his body. Most surely, the corpse was not buried but vanished, since many wizards have tried to find his remains throughout the ages and have never succeeded."

She lifted her hand, and pointed with a finger. "Look there. Soon, it will happen."

With curious puzzlement, Orion's gaze followed the direction, and he caught sight of large, high archways at one end of the courtyard, with steps leading to a great, magnificent castle beyond them. Then, he saw them striding out from the archways, their appearances imposing and with an air of utter self-confidence and efficacy.

They were knights, but their armors were more magnificent than the ones he had seen before, and the capes of these knights were pure white lined with golden thread, with a red symbol in the middle back – one he recognized from books as the symbol of Arthur's Knights of the Round Table. Knights made Lords, with equality of vote among all members, which was quite revolutionizing for that age. They had been Arthur's chosen to help him lead Camelot and decide matters of the kingdom, and his closest, most trusted friends. According to books, that was.

"Let us move closer," said the Kraljica Mati, and he followed her until they were mere paces away from them, and she started gesturing at several knights. "Sir Gawain, Sir Lancelot, Sir Percival, Sir Caradoc… the youngest one, Sir Galahad, Lancelot's son… they were all muggles Arthur had grown up with, of noble families. Such associations had been machinated and fomented by Merlin."

She paused, and then said calmly, "Ah, here we are." Orion snapped his gaze to where she was looking at, as she continued, "Arthur called me to Court, worried about Merlin's disappearance and soliciting my advice. He had also asked Morgana to come, since they had been close friends and deeply attached to one another from the moment she discovered, and told him, that her son was his. Their attachment grew deeper when his arranged marriage to the muggle Guinevere started failing."

The Kraljica Mati sighed grimly, before she added shortly, "Neither Morgana nor I knew we were going to see each other this day, not until we met with him in the castle." She shot Orion a brief glance, and murmured, "Arthur never knew I had been the one to orchestrate his physical union with his sister, so many years ago. Morgana never told him when she discovered I had been behind it."

"So he still trusted you because you were his Aunt," concluded Orion, his gaze fixed on the three people who had arrived coming from the archways while the Kraljica Mati had been speaking.

There was no doubt. The middle aged woman dressed in flowing dark blue robes was her – not the Kraljica Mati yet, not for many long centuries, but Vivian. She looked much like in the picture in the Book, only that her ugly face already showed some wrinkles on lip corners and around the eyes. And the young woman -quite beautiful, he saw- of long glossy black hair and dark eyes, had to be no other than Morgana.

Both women were dressed distinctively like witches, with long robes, nothing like the gowns of the noble muggle ladies around the courtyard. Yet no one was batting an eyelash at them, so it was clear they were well-known, trusted, and accepted by Arthur's Court.

Morgana and Vivian were quite resolutely not looking at each other, but they were still close together, flanking a man and obviously speaking to him, as they made their way towards Gawain, Lancelot and the other Knights.

An eerie shiver ran down Orion's spine when he fixedly gazed at the man, and he frowned. It was Arthur Pendragon, no doubt, given the crown amidst golden curls on his head. He was regally handsome, with a gentle and wise expression on his face and in his hazel eyes.

"FATHER!" shouted a young man who had suddenly appeared from the archways, and a long litany of furious words followed, which all sounded like gibberish to Orion's ear.

He froze, something coiling in his stomach, and then was simply grateful that he had understood 'father' at all, since it allowed him to comprehend that the young man was Mordred, who was dressed in black robes of a wizard. Mordred could not have been more than sixteen, yet he was already as tall as Arthur, and his constitution strong and clearly trained and exercised. But his handsome looks certainly came from Morgana, with his short wavy black hair and dark grey eyes. Yet, his expression was nothing like his mother's; it was dark, ominous, bitter, and enraged.

"Mordred had just discovered that Arthur had not made him his heir to the throne," was saying the Kraljica Mati. "He could not be, since it was known that Mordred was illegitimate, and many believed the accurate rumors that he was Arthur's and Morgana's son. His mere existence the most abominable of sins for muggles, and he was despised for it."

Mordred was rushing towards him – no, towards Arthur and his group- yet Orion was right beside them, seeing as Mordred quickly approached, still irately spitting out words. Then he caught sight of red hair suddenly appearing in his line of vision, and he instantly recognized the woman as Morgause. Her expression looked crazed and vindictive as she shouted madly, while she ran along Mordred's side, in a clear show of support.

Abruptly, one voice rose above all others, and even though it was gentle, it could be heard clearly, its tone appeasing and soothing. It was Arthur's, as the man stepped away from his Knights and took several steps to approach his son.

Yet, the Knights he left behind stood tense and wary, while Morgana was looking at her son with a grieved expression on her face, but she did not speak, approach, or said anything to Mordred. Vivian, on the other hand, also with the Knights where Arthur had left her and Morgana, looked impassively stony, just a mere slight frown on her face, her eyes riveted on Morgause.

"Arthur is trying to explain to Mordred," murmured the Kraljica Mati by his side, "why he cannot be his heir, and why he appointed Lancelot to succeed him if he died before his time. And Galahad, Lancelot's son, to take the throne after Lancelot passed."

Orion was mere paces from Arthur, as the man widely extended his arms, as if pleading to Mordred to join him in a conciliatory embrace, while he kept talking with his gentle, calming voice.

"Arthur is speaking of love. Of the love he has for Mordred. He is beseeching him to understand and accept his decision, since it was made for the good of the Kingdom."

Mordred halted, his expression still furious, accusing, hurt, and murderous, but there was a flicker of hesitancy in his eyes, a torn expression briefly sweeping across his handsome face. But all hesitation vanished from the young man's face when Morgause, by his side, whispered something sharply to his ear. The witch still had a mad expression of hatred on her beautiful features.

"It happened due to my sister's influence on him. Neither Morgana nor I suspected then the poison that Morgause had spilled into Mordred's mind, for years, as she reared him as her own son, as her vessel to attain ruling power. I should have known, yet I did not imagine what would happen. I did not believe them capable of it."

Orion barely heard her at all. He was frozen in place, his mind spinning chaotically, his blood chilling in his veins, his heart thundering frenetically in his chest. He felt as if he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, as the scene unfolded before him, ever so familiar, thus ever so horrifying.

Mordred's expression had smoothened, and Orion saw how the young man took the two steps required for him to be in front of Arthur. Mordred tightly embraced his father then, as if he was clutching a lifeline, and Orion could see both their expressions clearly. Arthur's relieved as he lovingly embraced his son back. And Mordred's displaying a mesh of emotions, as he tightened his arms around his father.

Orion heard Mordred's whispered and longing "Father" into Arthur's ear as if it was being breathed into his own ears, while he saw the emotions flickering in Mordred's dark grey eyes - deep pain, hurt betrayal, desperation, but also seething hatred and a firm, resolved intent in them.

And then it happened, just as he knew it would, the same details, the same whispered word, the same expressions, everything exactly the same. There was a glint of sunlight gleaming on iron, as Mordred plunged a dagger into Arthur's chest, pressed in their embrace. And as Arthur's face morphed into an expression of utter shock, blood gurgling from his lips caused by a wound clearly lethal, a direct stab into the man's heart, Orion could not take it anymore.

"LET ME OUT!" screamed Orion frenziedly, as he jumped away from the pair in the memory. "Make the memory stop, and let me out!"

The Kraljica Mati instantly tightly grabbed his arm, brusquely pulling him back. "WATCH!"

And Orion could do nothing but, even though he felt as if the floor had been yanked from his feet, even though blood rushed through his ears, making them ring as if someone was shrieking into them, even though he felt as if he was choking on his breath. Despite it, he could do nothing but watch, petrified.

The scene had instantly exploded into a mesh of confusion and screams, everybody moving at once. Arthur had dropped to the stone floors of the courtyard, copious blood spurting out of his chest and gurgling from his lips, though the man was evidently already dead. His hazel eyes unseeingly staring into the blue skies, the pupils completely dilated. The expression of shock frozen on his white, gentle, handsome face - the rigor mortis of a corpse.

There was a loud cry of immense grief which was heard above all others, and Orion saw Morgana flinging herself at Arthur's body, tears spilling from her eyes, sobs wrecking her frame as she cradled her dead brother on her lap.

The Knights, letting out roaring bellows, had already jumped into action, wielding their swords to kill Mordred. But Morgause was also moving. The witch looked deranged as she lashed her wand in the air, beams of light shooting everywhere, eerily reminding Orion of Bellatrix. Curses flew which easily tore into the Knights' mesh armor, blood spilled from deep, gaping wounds, and cries of fury and pain fused together. The Knights didn't stand a chance with their swords. Even less when Mordred seemed to come out of a frozen trance, peeling his gaze away from his mother and father, to whip out his own wand and start casting spells.

Orion saw the court ladies and nobles scattering away and fleeing as quickly as they could, their screams high-pitched and terrified, but some were struck down by flying curses. And then he saw Vivian rushing towards Morgause, the two sisters soon focused only on each other, locked in a fierce duel. It was soon clear that if the Knights hadn't stood a chance against Morgause, she didn't stand a stance against Vivian.

There was a loud shriek of agonizing pain and fury, and then Morgause's body laid on the floor in two separate parts in a pool of crimson blood, her body having been cut in half along the waist with a dark curse. And Vivian stood gazing down at her sister's body, a grim expression on her face.

There were arrows flying now, and Orion saw archers standing on a long balcony at the castle's second floor, which gave them a clear view of the courtyard below, and more archers were rushing into position.

Mordred was easily protecting himself, casting shields of magic against the arrows solely shot at him, while he cast spell after spell at the Knights of the Round Table who had circled him like pack of wolves, Mordred incessantly blasting them away or shooting dark curses. Yet Orion noticed that Mordred wasn't killing them, but just injuring them enough to put them out of commission.

Abruptly, a curtain of glimmering magic appeared like a round wall between Mordred and the Knights, and Orion saw Morgana standing on her feet, holding up the wand which had obviously cast the shield to protect Mordred. Her once pale green robes were drenched in her brother's blood, and her expression was somber and utterly overwrought with anguish and grief, but there was also a hard, determined glint in her dark eyes, as she placed a hand on Mordred's shoulder.

The young man glanced at her with disbelieving surprise, clearly not having expected his mother to aid him in any way, but rather kill him. It was obvious that mother and son had not been close for most of Mordred's life. They looked like strangers gazing at each other for the first time, with a certain spark of understanding of each other passing between them, and surprising them both.

In the next second, Morgana firmly took Mordred's hand in hers, and they were fleeing without a backward glance or word to anyone, simply running as fast as they could, casting spells over their shoulders to halt arrows and the Knights who gave them chase.

The last thing Orion saw, before they disappeared from sight, was an arrow plunging into Mordred's shoulder, but the boy didn't miss a step and mother and son didn't pause.

And in the lingering chaos, remained Vivian, standing as still and quiet as a statue, her gaze fixed on where Morgana and Mordred had disappeared through, as she stood amidst the ravaged courtyard, surrounded by the cries of the many who had been wounded and by the few bodies of those who had died.

Suddenly, Orion felt the Kraljica Mati tightening her grasp on his arm, and he was plunged into a spiraling whirlwind. Gasping, he found himself back in the old vampire's quarters, standing over the pensieve.

"Do you realize now?" murmured the old woman quietly, taking a seat on a plush, ornate armchair, as she collected her memory back into her mind with her wand.

"It's not possible!" spat Orion, plopping down on the settee, frantically gazing at her, his heart thundering so fast and hard that his chest seemed to ache. "I cannot be Mordred-"

"Oh, so you do have reason to believe what I am trying to make you see?" interjected the Kraljica Mati, spearing him with a scrutinizing gaze. "You knew you had been Mordred-"

"I knew nothing of the sort!" bit out Orion heatedly, pointing a finger at the pensieve. "But of course I have reason to believe it now, don't I?! One of my memories of a past life is exactly like what happened in there. I remember it clearly because it was so emotionally taxing that it burned itself into my mind, just like a memory of some other life when I was a little boy being burned at the stakes by muggles just because I had conjured a flower for a girl I fancied and she ran screaming!"

He paused to take a deep intake of air, and then gazed at her narrowly, as he snapped crisply, "Sure, the memory was brief. I embraced a man, whispered 'father' to him, felt a bunch of emotions and stabbed him in the chest. The next thing, I'm running for my life alongside someone and an arrow hits me in the shoulder. And the bloody man I hugged was Arthur, because he looked exactly like the Arthur of your memory. And I know that the feelings I felt were Mordred's, because I could see the same emotions on his face in your memory. So I damn well say that it proves that I was Modred, but I'm telling you it's not possible!"

The Kraljica Mati folded her hands on her lap, and calmly gazed at him."Indeed, why not?"

"Are you fucking pulling my leg?!" hissed Orion under his breath, angrily glaring at her with narrowed eyes. "It's quite obvious, isn't it? I have seen Mordred's spirit many times – his soul anchored on this plane! So how could I be him reborn, how could I have his soul? And he has always felt like a spirit, and I can physically touch him when I'm imbued with my Necromantic abilities, so he _must_ be a spirit!"

"Ah, I see where the problem lies," said the Kraljica Mati placidly. "You simply know not that the rituals Morgana and Mordred used were different rituals in which they sacrificed what remained of their natural lifespans to attain what they desired."

She didn't give him a chance to retort, as she pinned him with a piercing dark grey gaze. "As I have told you, Mordred – you, were Gaia's favorite. When Morgana brought him to me when he was a mere child, he could already access Gaia's Isle and he spent much time at The Scrying Waters. It was then that he –_you_– named the Dark Source 'Gaia', because you felt She was like a mother to you, and because She always called you her child."

The moment she saw Orion opening his mouth again, she held up a hand. "I know not what Gaia showed you then, you never told anyone. But I believe, given the rituals Morgana and Modred chose to undergo, that Gaia must have told you about the Vindico Atrum matter. I am quite certain of this, since Morgana underwent the most drastic ritual so that you did not need to do the same. Indeed, Morgana sacrificed her life and became a soul anchored to this plane, as you put it, with her magic tied to her soul, available to her and only starting to dim after many ages passed. As the magic of the ritual diminished through time, the restriction on her spirit's mobility tightened-"

"Yes, I know all that-"

"Let me finish," said the Kraljica Mati curtly, spearing him with an intense, urgent gaze. "When you underwent the ritual, you had already fathered a child with a dark pureblood witch of your express choosing, and thus, you commenced your plan. You must have known that you would become the Vindico Atrum, but not during your life, not when you were Mordred. A Vindico Atrum candidate who would succeed in becoming It, needed to be much more powerful than you already were when you were Mordred. That is why they have crossed bloodlines for so many centuries, improving, as you said, the Peverell lines by mixing them with other dark bloodlines, not only powerful but with special magical abilities as well-"

"Yes, I see," interjected Orion sharply, deeply frowning as he closely regarded her. "But I still don't understand what he is, then, or how it's possible-"

"-not only that," continued the Kraljica Mati, utterly turning a deaf ear to his interruption, "they started with Mordred's child, and went from there forth. Indeed, the Peverells came from Mordred's sole descendant at that time, a great-granddaughter who had married a Necromancer, and thus infusing such new ability in Mordred's line, and resulting in one of the three Brothers being a Necromancer himself."

She paused, while Orion remained defeated in silence to intently listen to her, and she pinned him with pointed stare. "In essence, making Mordred's line as powerful in dark magic as possible, so that the Vindico Atrum came from such. But you see, you wanted to be the Vindico Atrum, thus the ritual you used was quite different from Morgana's. You sacrificed what remained of your life, yes, but not to turn into a spirit, but to die and have your soul reborn again and again along your lines of descendants, along the very same lines that you and Morgana would perfect throughout the ages. That is why you will become the Vindico Atrum, because Gaia must have showed you in The Scrying Waters what you had to do, and you followed Her plans."

"The pattern in my rebirths... and the swiftness of my reincarnations," croaked out Orion, his voice shaky, staring at her with wide eyes as everything started to dawn on him. "Then it's all because of him, of me, of what I did then?" His jaw clenched, as anger boiled in him without really knowing who he was furious at, and he gritted out crisply, "So I've been basically manipulating myself all this bloody time?! That's why Mordred's spirit, or whatever the hell it is, kept ranting angrily about all the sacrifices he had made and demanding the same from me. I was demanding it to myself?!"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," said the Kraljica Mati pleasantly. "He always was very strict with himself. And you are much different now from who you were when you were Mordred. I do not think he liked to see himself so changed when he must have believed that such changes were for the worse, seeing your empathy for others and lack of merciless ruthlessness as grave weaknesses."

"I cannot believe this!" cried Orion, jerkily carding his fingers through his hair, his mind messily swirling, not quite knowing what to feel or think. He repeatedly shook his head, and finally frowned at her. "So what is he, then? You speak of it -him, whatever!- as if he could think. And I know he must, because I've talked to him several times. So what is he? I know he's not a ghost!"

"Indeed it is not," interjected the Kraljica Mati calmly. "I do not think there is a name for it. The ritual you employed had never been used by anyone but you, you created it. You wanted to leave some awareness of yourself behind you, as Mordred, so that you could help Morgana's spirit accomplish all the necessary crosses between bloodlines. What it is has no magic, unlike Morgana's spirit, but it can think. It thinks like the Mordred you were."

She briefly paused, slightly frowning musingly. "I have always thought of it as being like a soul's portrait, with the only difference that due to a property you included in the ritual, every time you died in a following rebirth, it gained the memories of such life. And it must have always wanted to shape you, and all the others you were in past, in Mordred's image." She shot him an amused glance. "That is why I believe it dislikes you."

"And it surely 'disliked' Regulus too, then," grumbled Orion, his mind still chaotic though he had managed to calm himself so that he could begin thinking matters over carefully. He frowned, and searchingly gazed at her. "So it remembers all my past lives..."

A realization suddenly struck him a like a lightning bolt and he jumped to his feet. "And I must have been Mordred in my soul's first life! That must be what Arian spoke about – and he was in love with me, with Mordred? Do you know who Arian was back then? Do you know if I had a lover, or-"

"I certainly have no way of knowing if Mordred was your first life," cut in the Kraljica Mati, her eyebrows shooting upwards, "and much less in whom Arian Valenor's soul was in, during those times. If he had a life in that time at all, which is not certain either. And I know not anything about your intimate affairs when you were Mordred." She frowned at him. "What is all this business with the Dumbledore boy about?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," muttered Orion with a frown, waving a hand dismissively. Abruptly, he snapped his head up and pierced her with a demanding gaze. "Have you told Lezander about this?"

"I told him you were Mordred," replied the old woman impassively, arching an eyebrow, "but not anything else regarding this matter."

Orion sighed out, "Good." He carded his fingers through his hair, nodding at himself. "Yeah, that's alright, I guess."

"Very well," said the Kraljica Mati rising to her feet. She gazed at him, her lips tilting upwards. "I am glad to have met you and wish you success in every endeavor-"

"You're kicking me out?" gasped out Orion disbelievingly. "But there are still so many things I would like to know and flesh out-"

"I have done my duty," said the old woman stoically, then warmly smiling at him. "I have imparted all the information I believed you should have known all along. It will help you attain your aims."

"But… but," spluttered Orion, staring at her with wide eyes. "Surely this isn't good-bye? I can come back, right? You will receive me if I come whenever I need to-"

"No, no," said the Kraljica Mati pleasantly. "This is, indeed, a farewell. I prize my solitude, my child, and there really is not anything else I can help you with or any other useful, pertinent information I can share with you." She brightly smiled at him. "Yet, if I am still alive then, I will pay you a visit to see your firstborn. I would like to see him, at the very least, if not the other two, as well."

Orion stared at her blankly. "Er, alright, I suppose…" He sighed and carded his fingers through his hair, before he bowed to her. "Then, it is good-bye until then."

"It is," said the Kraljica Mati pleasantly, before she abruptly moved forward and planted a small kiss on his forehead. "I wish you the best."

"Um, thanks," muttered Orion quietly. "I wish you the same."

The old woman shot him an amused glance, but despite it, Orion was nearly frogmarched through the threshold, and the door was instantly closed shut on his face the moment he was on the other side.

Orion blinked, and then shook his head, muttering under his breath as he started climbing down the endless spiraling stairway of the tower, his mind speeding and brimming at full capacity.

* * *

The following evening, it was remarked to Orion by a surprised yet satisfied Cyprian that he was putting all his efforts into his vampire training with a sudden zealous fervor, as indeed, he was.

Orion's mind had been spinning ever since he had parted with the Kraljica Mati, and he had gone through every word she had told him so many times and with such deep concentration and effort into analyzing every little thing, that all her revelations were branded into his skull. And due to it, was his urgency in training hard and learning as fast as he could. For it was just as Gellert had told him, everything for him would just get harder as closer he came to being the VA and much more after that.

He had been Mordred, that was clear. He had done everything to himself, he no longer had anyone to be angry at, no one he could accuse for what had happened to him, and no one to blame for the burdens on his shoulders. And though knowing now that he had been Mordred finally made him understand every little thing which had previously perplexed him to frustration, it didn't make anything easier.

Quite the contrary. As Mordred, he had masterminded his own future rise as the Vindico Atrum, and he would follow through for the simple reason that his motives might have changed from those of when he had been Mordred, but his desires hadn't. He still wanted to become the VA, and he would, as plain and simple as that.

Yet, the decisions he had come to before his second and last visit to the Kraljica Mait, had not changed. Thus, everything was clear in his mind, but also much more complicated to attain in life.

The pattern of his past lives explained, the knowledge he was the one who would certainly become the VA, the realization that he had always been Gaia's Chosen One since times immemorial, that he had planned it all and made it happen through many self-inflicted sacrifices, the understanding that he couldn't and wouldn't give up just when he was about and could accomplish his main and ultimate goal, the comprehension of what Arian had been speaking about when alluding to their first life and 'They'…

All of it, added to his immutable desire to see his possible children exist, while having to do something so that his oldest wouldn't turn out 'bad', to manage his relationships to have such children with their respective fathers while also being fair with his 'mates' since he wanted the best for them, and foremost, added to not killing Voldemort no matter how many prophecies and visions there were and despite that it was the simplest way of becoming more powerful - everything, now made sense in his mind, but he didn't have the foggiest idea of how he would put it in practice and accomplish it.

Oh, some thoughts had popped into his mind, but he knew he had to tread carefully, patiently, and quite simply – experimentally. Taking some more decisions here, some others there, see what happened, adjust his plans a bit, try again, and so forth. Yes, with some bold moves here and there, and some other small ones. It was the only way, since he felt he was on shaky grounds that could break under his feet and pitch him into an abyss in any moment.

But he would try to bid his time. He had to be calm and composed to make all future decisions, no matter the urgency he currently felt due that it all seemed to be rushing and speeding forwards. There was also the war to think of, after all, and a misstep could be catastrophic.

Therefore, Orion had firmly kept the decisions he had previous taken, thought about some others he could apply to accomplish everything, and then he had single-mindedly focused on his vampire training and on his studies for his PRIMEs during the breaks between lessons.

It had resulted in Cyprian currently clapping once his hands with satisfaction when Orion managed to par a sword thrust while disarming his sparing partner, Lezander. Even the young Rege's eyebrows shot upwards, a wide smile breaking on his handsome face.

"Well done!" said Lezander warmly, slapping a hand on Orion's shoulder before he bent down to retrieve his sword from the floor.

Orion took a step towards him, and hissed accusingly under his breath, "It's no accomplishment. You're going easy on me!"

"Easy?" said Lezander with a frown, shooting him a glance as he wielded his sword in an offensive stance. "Of course I am. You're just starting-"

"I might be just starting," bit out Orion angrily, clutching his Gryffindor Sword's hilt tighter, "but I only have one month to learn sword-fighting, to learn how to use my sharpened senses, to quicken my reflexes, to build up my body, and to all together learn how to use and hone the vampiric traits I got from you."

"Relax your grip, Orion! It must be flexible," ordered Cyprian sharply, who stood by the sidelines of the training room in Zraven Citadel in which they were, supervising Orion's practices after the usual drills at the barracks' courtyard. "And go back to your place-"

"Give us a minute, Cy," said Lezander briskly over his shoulder, before he snapped his head back to pierce Orion with his pale blue eyes.

Orion frowned angrily when he saw that the Commander of the Zraven forces merely nodded before mutely obeying his Rege and moving to the furthest corner of the room, to check the numerous long swords, daggers, katanas, throwing knives, battle axes and other magically-enhanced weapons held in racks along a wall.

"What are you doing?" snapped Orion crisply. "I don't want to stop-"

"You've been acting like a possessed madman during the whole day," said Lezander sharply under his breath, closely regarding him as he took a step to be inches apart. "And knowing you, I know why-"

"I've just been giving my best," bit out Orion impatiently. "Now let's continue!"

"You haven't said a word to me about your visits to the Kraljica Mati," said Lezander quietly, a deep, hard frown on his face. "And I know what she must have told you and I know it must weigh heavily on your mind, but I also know that you must have come to some decisions – you always do." He bore his pale blue eyes into Orion's green ones, and added in a soft whisper, "And I've waited for you to say something to me, but you haven't. But seeing you like this today… well, it's clear we must talk about it."

Orion sighed, and rubbed his forehead with his free hand as he murmured, "I know there's much to discuss, and we will, because I know that you're pending to see what my decision is regarding Draco, and…"

He shot Cyprian a glance, and seeing the vampire seemingly utterly engrossed in his evaluation of the state of the weapons, he glanced back at Lezander, whispering, "And about our, er… well, future son, and all that. But I won't discuss it now, here. Just wait until tonight-"

"ORION!" shrieked a female voice frantically.

Orion nearly jumped into the air at the sudden scream, and he wildly looked around, until his name was urgently called once more. Perplexed, he glanced down at the dragon-scale crimson armor which had been fitted for him and which Lezander had gifted to him the very moment he woke up earlier in the day.

He heard the shout again, coming out muffled from one pocket in his vampire fighting clothes. His eyebrows shot upwards, and deep worry instantly surged in him as he dug in a hand and plucked out the two-way mirror, seeing Titania's face on its otherwise reflective surface, her expression frantic.

"Thank Circe!" came out her voice, as her eyes peered at him, her face slightly relaxing. In the next second, her expression turned as urgent as before. "You must come at once!"

"What happened?" demanded Orion instantly, holding the mirror up to his face, his chest clenching with misgivings. "Were you found by Aurors, did they break into the manor, did they-"

"Just come, I'll tell you everything here!"

Orion sharply nodded, and said quickly, "Where are you? Rosier Manor-"

"No, everybody else is in Rosier's," rushed out Titania's voice. "I'm in yours. In Potter Manor, in front of the door to your rooms."

"I'll be right there," said Orion swiftly, seeing her exhaling with relief before her face blurred and disappeared from the mirror's surface.

He glanced at Lezander just as he pocketed it back. "I must-"

"Go," cut in Lezander, staring at him worriedly. "It sounded serious. Perhaps I should come along, to help you in case Aurors-"

"I can manage," said Orion shortly, merely giving him a grateful yet wan, small smile, before he closed his eyes and instantly dissapparated from Zraven Citadel, leaving the Gryffindor Sword behind, dropping and clanking to the floor.

The moment he appeared in front of his master bedroom in Potter Manor, he saw Titania standing nervously a few paces away, wringing her hands, her expression still troubled as her eyes met his.

"We didn't want to concern you," she rushed out without the need of being prompted, her otherwise faint American accent becoming more marked with her jittery nervousness and worry, "that's why I didn't contact you before… but yesterday, we went to Rosier Manor to continue training the DA who're staying there for their hols, just as Calypso told us you wanted us to do. But just as we finished the last battle simulation, Calypso said she had something to do and then simply left."

She took a deep intake of breath, and gazed into his eyes. "I'm not going to ask you what's going on. You left before meeting the Elite when we came - Calypso explained why. Then, that very same night, the whole manor was awoken when we heard yells coming from a room, and when we reached it, we found Draco finally conscious, furious, trashing furniture and yelling like a loony at Calypso."

The moment Orion opened his mouth, Titania held up a hand and shook her head. "Only I understood some parts of his rants because I'm an Aux, but it's clear that there's much more bothering him besides Calypso obviously telling him about you and the Vindico Atrum issue. I'm not asking what, but I think you should know what's been happening here since you left-"

"Tell me whatever you want," interrupted Orion quietly, a frisson of apprehension coiling in his stomach, "and then just get to it, Tita."

She sharply nodded at him, and said quickly, "Whatever it is, I've never seen him so mad before. Not even Evander, Kara, and Viktor said they had, and they know him much better and for far longer than I. We were all worried. But then, the following day, even though he snapped and glared at everyone, Calypso took him to her manor with the rest of us. And he was introduced to the DA and he certainly wished to train with us. In fact, he's quite good in the Dark Arts, his father surely taught him well, but he's training as if his life depended on it, which is partly true given his situation…"

Pausing, she slightly frowned and shot him a pointed glance. "Well, the point is that we're all helping him and he's having no problems in catching up with the rest, though he's acting strangely and he's in a foul mood twenty-four seven. But that's not the issue. The problem is Calypso. Yesterday, she left Rosier Manor the moment we finished the DA lesson for the day, and she didn't return here at night-"

"Where is she, then?!" demanded Orion impatiently, feeling as if his frenetically pounding heart had lodged in his throat. "Did you check her manor-"

"Of course we did!" snapped Titania, glaring at him with indignation. "We spend most of our days there training and only come back here to sleep. She wasn't there or here! She's been gone for a whole night and day. But there was nothing we could do other than keep preparing ourselves and the DA for the war, so today we went to Rosier Manor as usual, to continue training. And just mere minutes ago, that house-elf of yours, Dubby, Dibby-" she waved a hand briskly "-or whatever its name is, popped in front of me telling me that I had to come here, that Daisy had sent him to fetch me from Rosier Manor. The rest of the Elite stayed there. I didn't even tell them anything." She pierced him with her hazel eyes, and added nervously, "And when I got here, I was told that Calypso had finally appeared…"

Titania paused, pointing a finger at the door across from Orion's bedroom. "…that she had apparated into her room. And I've heard her crying inside, but she won't open the door!" She glanced at him with frustration and deep concern. "She's locked it with countless wards and I can't get inside. It's obvious that something's happened to her, but she won't even answer or say anything when I try to speak to her through the door!"

"Then thanks for contacting me," said Orion shortly, instantly reaching the door of Calypso's bedroom, whipping out his wand to start testing the wards cast on it.

Titania nodded at him, and mumbled quietly, "I'll leave you alone. If there's anyone who can get through her, it's you."

And with that, she was gone with an inaudible 'crack', undoubtedly apparating back to Rosier Manor, and surely going to break the news of Calypso's sudden reappearance to the Elite, to allay their worries.

The moment the young witch was gone, Orion knocked hard on the door, and yelled loudly, "Scaly, open up! Do you hear me? It's me, Orion – open the door!"

Orion frowned when he heard some muted sound coming from within, but she didn't respond and the door certainly didn't open or dropped its wards. With his jaw clenching, he instantly got back to work, constantly flicking his wand, detecting and pulling down ward after ward. Ten minutes must have passed when he finally broke the last ward, and he didn't waste a second before he yanked the door open and ran inside the room, both angry and deeply worried.

He halted in mid step, and just concern ruled him, when he caught sight of Calypso awkwardly curled in one corner of the bedroom, near the bathroom: her legs splayed on the floor, her head bent down as she was covering her face with her hands, her shoulders slumped and hunched forwards, her clothes wrinkled as if she had slept in them, her appearance all together disheveled.

Orion almost flew around the four-poster bed to reach her in the bat of an eyelash, and he instantly dropped to his knees in front of her, as he whispered softly, "Come, Scaly. What happened, what's going on? Everyone's worried sick."

A mix between a hiccup and a sob came from her, but she simply pressed her hands tighter against her hidden and bowed face.

Orion tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder, as he said gently, "Please, Scaly. Just look at me. I won't ask questions if you don't want to tell me where you've been. But I'm worried and need to know if you're alright."

"Orion?" came her voice muffled by her hands, sounding small and soft to his ears, almost vulnerable, he would say.

He instantly felt relieved that she was responding to him at all, and said with feigned loftiness, "Of course it's me. Who else could have broken down all your wards without breaking a sweat?"

She snorted as she lifted up her face, her fingers slightly spreading while she peered at him from between them. "What on earth are you wearing?"

"Vampire armor and fighting clothes," said Orion proudly, trailing a finger over the crimson dragon scales on his chest, while he covertly inspected her closely.

He saw that she had certainly been crying. Her eyes were red and puffed, and he caught a glimpse of tear-streaks on her cheeks, as well as dark circles under her eyes.

"You look awful," he said nonchalantly, grinning at her. "And here I believed that you had grown up to be beautiful enough to even tempt me."

"Prat," she scoffed, her hands dropping to her lap, as she eyed him with a slight frown on her face. The next second, she was biting her lower lip, glancing around. "Oh, no. Tita asked you to come, didn't she?" Her gaze flickered back to him, and she deeply sighed as she murmured softly, "I didn't want to worry anyone, and least of all make you leave Zraven Citadel and interrupt your training-"

"That doesn't matter," interrupted Orion calmly, folding his legs to sit on the floor instead of on his knees, making himself casually comfortable, as he eyed her closely. But to his puzzlement, from what he saw of her expression, she didn't look frightened, hurt, sorrowful, anguished, or anything indicating she had gone through something bad. "So… here we are…"

"I've been an idiot," muttered Calypso, wearily gazing at him. "An over-confident one, at that."

She dropped her face, and just when Orion thought he had been mistaken and that she would start crying, she began to angrily gesture with her hands. And when she looked up at him, he saw murdering fury and hatred in her face, not tears.

"It was Moody, Orion!" she rambled irately. "I went to Diagon Alley to buy some things –I thought I wouldn't be seen, I thought that I didn't need to apparate to another country- but someone must have recognized me or there were Aurors covertly patrolling the Alley, because the moment I stepped out of the bookshop, I was surrounded by Aurors! I couldn't do anything-"

"That's where you've been?" breathed out Orion, finally feeling himself relaxing and at ease, though still a spark of apprehension remained. "But they couldn't have done anything to you except hold you in a Ministry cell for the night and ask you questions, right? They can't do much else-"

"You don't understand," snapped Calypso heatedly, her puffed black eyes gleaming with fury. "You were right about your suspicions of Scrimgeour being allied with the Order of the Phoenix! The Aurors did make me stay in a cell overnight, and of course that I didn't answer any of their questions, but the next day-" she gestured angrily at herself "-today, the Auror that was watching me disappeared and Mad-Eye Moody came into my holding cell!"

Her jaw clenched, and she spat out, "I won't mention the stuff he said about my mother or Uncle Evan, things surely meant to make me angrily rant at him and spill information without knowing, part of an interrogation method, no doubt. But he was holding a vial of Veritaserum - to force me to drink it! Totally illegal, since I'm not yet seventeen, and still illegal if I was, because he's not a bloody Auror anymore – hasn't been for ages. He had no right to be there at all, it was Scrimgeour's doing for sure. Their pathetic light Minister knows that they don't stand a chance against you and the Dark Lord combined, and he resorted to using Moody to interrogate the only link they had to you – knowing, of course, how I would be affected by seeing Moody in person, the murderer of my mother!"

Visibly paling, Orion said quietly, "I won't blame you if you told him stuff under the influence of Veritaserum, Scaly-"

"I didn't," bit out Calypso sharply. "He didn't get the chance. Shacklebot suddenly came in, and my, did he look angry." Orion grimaced with dislike, and she shot him a sharp glance. "You can hate him all you like for attacking Lez in the Department of Mysteries, but he saved my neck today."

She scoffed, and rolled her eyes. "Not because he cared two figs about me, of course. But it's clear that he's a law-abiding Auror, with fair principles, at least. He certainly didn't know that his underlings had allowed Moody in to interrogate me, and when he saw the vial of Veritaserum, he was mad as hell. Even though they're both in the Order, he practically threw Moody out, and he returned my wand to me, told me I was free to leave, and apologized for what his Aurors had done. He looked pissed and indignant." She shot him a feral smirk. "I even heard him lecturing Moody about 'proper procedure' and doing things by the rules."

Orion searchingly gazed at her. "So… you're fine? Then why did Titania say to me she had heard you crying? And I can see for myself that you must have-"

Abruptly, Calypso grasped his hands in a vise-like iron grip, her eyes glinting with murdering hatred, as she said fiercely, "I cried because I was locked in with Moody and couldn't do a thing! I would have killed him on the spot if I had had my wand – I wouldn't have cared about the consequences at all. I felt pure impotence and rage, Orion – surely you understand what those combined can do!" Her grip tightened painfully, making Orion wince, as she fervently bore her eyes into his. "Promise me that you'll let me have him. Promise me that he'll be mine, and solely my prey, when we encounter him in the battlefield!"

Orion frowned at her apprehensively. "He's a very experienced ex-Auror, Scaly. I don't think you should fight him alone-"

"Please, Orion, promise you'll leave him to me!" interrupted Calypso beseechingly, her expression hard, with a vehement and feverish glint in her eyes. "I've waited my whole life to kill him – I plunged into the Dark Arts and trained during my whole life to avenge my mother!"

Orion eyed her with sympathy and understanding, and finally said with a sigh, "Alright, he's yours."

"Thank you," she exhaled out, shooting him a bright smile as she released his hands.

Orion flexed his aching fingers and then caught sight of her expression: she was clearly plotting all the evil, tormenting agonies she was going to put the ex-Auror through while slowly dismembering him with the most gruesome of dark curses. He shook his head with amusement, but then stood up as he decided that it was best if she didn't dwell on it for any longer, for the time being. It was clear that anything related to Moody still deeply affected her.

He extended a hand towards her, and shot her a grin. "Up. I have much to tell you before I go back to the Citadel."

Calypso instantly snapped her head up to peer at him with curiosity, and then her eyes widened. "Of course, you've already managed to see the Kraljica Mati, haven't you?" She took his offered hand, and he gently aided her to stand up, as she rambled excitedly, "Oh, if you really have the time, then I would like to know-"

"I have," said Orion simply, conjuring two chairs for them and pulling one for her to take a seat. He shot her a glance before he snapped his fingers, calling for a house-elf. "But first, I would like to hear your opinion about something else."

The moment the house-elf popped before him, he ordered instantly, "Bring the pensieve from the study."

Mere minutes afterwards, he had poured the pertinent part of his interaction with Snape into the pensieve, inviting her to see the memory. And finally, after what seemed like ages to Orion, Calypso pulled her head out of it and then stared at him with wide eyes.

"Is all that stuff about this genetics thing true?" she breathed out excitedly, a large, beaming smile on her face, wheels turning and plans and plots certainly spinning in her mind. "Why on earth didn't you agree with Snape? Don't you see what our kind could do with it? All the things that could be discovered and also done so that our kind is more powerful-"

"Scaly-"

"Oh, I'm with you that Snape shouldn't publish his work using muggle terms or basing it on this new muggle science," went on Calypso, waving a hand. In the next second, there were stars in her eyes, as she continued eagerly, "But if he wants to abduct some muggles and put them to work, then by all means, he should! And if he's right about these genes things, then imagine what our kind could do with them - from what I could understand, if our kind researches into it like Snape wants, there's no limit to what we could accomplish some years from now! We could give magical traits and abilities to magical babies in the womb, we could make our kind's children more powerful, the lines purer-"

"Calypso!" finally barked Orion, pulling her out of her dreams of triumph and glory for dark wizarding kind. "I understand what you're trying to say in your ramblings, and it has crossed my mind as well. But I'm not only wary of the consequences if we started messing around with such things, but I also think that Snape-"

"Oh, trust you to be concerned about remote consequences," interjected Calypso with a roll of her eyes, before she leaned forward on her seat and grabbed his hands, her voice turning vehement. "Such research could be controlled and regulated, so there's no reason to fear anything. I think it should be done, and you did give your oath to Snape that you would help him in-"

"So you truly think it should be learned and researched to be used by our kind?" cut in Orion, eyeing her with a frown on his face.

Nodding, she said adamantly, "Absolutely!" Suddenly, her eyes went wide, and she gasped out excitedly, "The Byzantium Ars Medicina! And Mistress Petra Podroff!"

Startled, Orion blinked, before he stared at her with a deep frown on his face. "What does our Healing Dark Arts professor have to do with-"

"Have you heard about the Byzantium Ars Medicina?" interrupted Calypso, gazing at him expectantly, squirming in her seat with nearly unrestrained giddiness.

"Of course," said Orion shortly, waving a hand, yet he was looking at her puzzled. "I've seen it mentioned here and there in textbooks. It's an Institute that researches the Healing Arts. I know it's very famed and has impeccable reputation, both the institute and their healers and researchers. Allegedly, most healing spells were created there."

"Yes, but not only that," rushed out Calypso, staring at him intensely. "The Byzantium Ars Medicina is ancient, it was founded in 310 BC in the city of Byzantium, and it attracted knowledgeable Greek healers when the city was conquered by Alexander the Great, and even more renowned ancient healers when the city later became the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire. Healers from all over the empire and beyond went there to study and to be accepted as apprentices and scholars. It's even believed that the very Rod of Asclepius was brought to the Byzantium Ars Medicina, ages ago, by a Greek healer who wanted to gain access to BAM's library, since their scholars had Hyppocrates' original manuscripts-"

"Hold your hippogriffs," interrupted Orion, holding up at hand, as he musingly frowned at her. "Are you telling me that the Rod of Asclepius - the magical artifact believed to have been long lost, named after Asclepius, the mythical Greek god of medicine, and made by the ancient Greek healer Hyppocrates, who even muggles call the Father of Medicine- is in Byzantium Ars Medicina?"

"That's what's rumored, and has been for ages," said Calypso, her smile widening eagerly. "After all, the image of the Rod of Asclepius is the Byzantium Ars Medicina's symbol. And supposedly, all the healing spells and breakthroughs throughout the centuries were accomplished by BAM's researchers because they have the Rod in their possession and have always been using it."

"So…" said Orion slowly, his expression deeply pensive. "You think that I should let Snape look into genetics, that muggle geneticists should be taken so that Snape can learn from them and possibly imperio them to make them work on Slytherin's research by using this new muggle science, and that the Byzantium Ars Medicina should be contacted so that they are involved in this."

"Exactly! But I also think that it would be best if the whole wizarding research into this gene stuff is conducted by BAM," piped in Calypso, a wide, sly smile on her face. "And that Snape should be allowed to work with them and lead the research about the crosses between magical and non-magical blood types. You gave him the task to improve Slytherin's research and to prove his discoveries. Therefore, Snape should be heading that research project in BAM." She pierced him with her eyes, her expression resolute. "You should help him make a deal with them."

"Alright," said Orion musingly, before he shot her a demanding glance. "But tell me this, what type of wizards and witches work in the Byzantium Ars Medicina? Are they dark or light?"

Calypso deeply frowned, and said hesitantly, "It's said that light and dark wizards work jointly in BAM. Supposedly, their healers and researchers work collectively for the same aim without caring about differences in their magic. And I think it must be true since BAM creates and makes public healing spells using either light or dark magic, creating as many light spells as dark ones, clearly without showing favoritism regarding which wizarding kind they help the most."

"I see," said Orion calmly, nodding at her. "Then it means that they watch and control what goes on in there and that they don't allow one of them to use their knowledge and discoveries for their own aims or solely for the sake of their respective kind – which is a relief. It means they strictly regulate themselves. Then, yes, I'll think about your suggestion of involving BAM in this matter."

He paused and gazed musingly into vacant air. "Perhaps, the consequences would be positive if wizarding kind developed a new branch of magical studies based on muggles' genetics science, starting from there to discover the ways we could use it through magic."

Calypso shot him a cheerful, utterly satisfied smile. "That's exactly what I believe would be best."

"Very well," said Orion, glancing back at her. "So I suppose the Byzantium Ars Medicina is in the same place where it was founded, right? In Byzantium, which later became Nova Roma, then Constantinople, and finally Istanbul." He quizzically gazed at her. "So I can find it there – in modern-day Turkish Istanbul?"

"I believe so," replied Calypso, then staring at him dismayed. "But you can't simply trot around Istanbul, somehow hope to find wherever the BAM building is, and then waltz inside. Its precise location isn't public knowledge and no one has found it without being invited by them in the first place."

Orion nonchalantly arched an eyebrow. "Then I assume you have a suggestion which would solve this small impediment?"

"I do," piped in Calypso brightly, looking thoroughly smug. "Once during class, I caught a glimpse of the necklace Podroff was wearing, almost hidden under her professor robes – it had a pendant in the shape of the Rod of Asclepius. I knew what it had to mean, and I was curious. So I asked her about it after class." She shot him a conspiratorial smirk. "I couldn't glean much from her except that she had been an apprentice in the Byzantium Ars Medicina for five years before becoming a full-fledged healer. So that's your ticket in."

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Mistress Petra… who would have thought. My, she does go around."

"Well, we all knew she had been an excellent healer before becoming a teacher," said Calypso with an expansive wave of her hand. "So it didn't surprise me much. Most famed healers have come from there, though they never breathe a word to anyone about their years there."

Orion hummed, before a frown crinkled his forehead, and he eyed Calypso closely as he said quietly, "I didn't show you the memory to discuss what should be done about genetics in our world, though I thank you for your suggestions…" He heaved in a sigh, and pierced her with his eyes. "Scaly, didn't you notice anything strange in the memory? Don't you think that Snape wasn't behaving quite like himself?"

"What on earth do you mean?" said Calypso, blinking at him with puzzlement. "He was excited about this genetics thing, which is understandable since it could help him with his research. And maybe his plan about kidnapping some muggle scientist is a bit drastic, but I can understand his desire to learn about genetics as quickly and as easily as possible. And if you help him do it, then I see no problem."

She paused and cautiously eyed him. "I think you're being a bit-"

"Paranoid," said Orion flatly, with a slight frown on his face. He shook his head and piercingly gazed at her. "Perhaps, but not to the extent of imagining things. Something was up with him. The whole thing was weird."

She stared at him, and then shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't get the impression that anything was amiss."

Orion heavily sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Never mind, then. I still have much to tell you."

Calypso's face instantly brightened as she looked at him expectantly, and Orion didn't waste a second longer before starting to explain everything he had learned from the Kraljica Mati, also finally telling her about what the Dementor Cadmus had done to him and his past lives, as well as the bits he hadn't told her about his interactions with Arian regarding mentions of having known each other in past lives.

As usual when Orion extensively informed her of things, she kept silent without ever interrupting him, though her face clearly displayed her reactions in the way her eyes widened, her expression blanked and then became troubled or deeply pensive; added to some gasps, frowns and gaping jaws.

The moment Orion said his last word, Calypso stared at him as if she had never seen him before, her expression mesmerized and then becoming feverishly fervent, as she breathed out shakily, "You are Mordred… I scarcely know what to say… I can scarcely believe it, yet I do!"

She started to wildly gesture, her eyes widening, as she rushed out, "It all makes sense! I had the inkling that the Peverells must have been Mordred's descendants given things, but I never imagined that his spirit wasn't really a spirit, or that you're Lezander's mate because he has Peverell blood from the Lady of the Lake herself! Or that the Lady of the Lake didn't die ages ago as books tell - that she has been living during all these centuries, and that's she's the Kraljica Mati, of all people – but it all makes sense, specially why the Zravens sent Lez to Durmstrang due to her maneuverings! And about the things Morgana's spirit and Mordred's 'whatever' did… and your children! Oh, I can see why you want them… And Avalon, Gaia, and the twin isles! Oh, and your wand and the Hallows, and Excalibur, and the … but… but, the things Arian has been saying to you… and the past lives you remember… why didn't you ever tell me about what Cadmus had done to you? And about you being Sextus Black, Cadmus' son… and about you having been Regulus and what you did then in that lifetime, and Snape finding out about you being Regulus, and you telling your father… Orion? Orion, are you listening to me?"

"Er… yeah," muttered Orion, who was frowning deeply at vacant space, since something had been tickling the back of his mind ever since he had ended his narration of events to her.

Yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew it was there, something that was about to click in his mind.

He shot her a brief glance, vaguely remembering her last ramblings, and retorted flatly, "You're complaining that I've been keeping secrets? That's rich, coming from you. I didn't tell you about my past lives in the same way that you still haven't told me what's been up with you during the year."

"Oh, um… well," mumbled Calypso, looking contrite and chastised.

"I KNOW!" suddenly bellowed Orion, shooting to his feet, his expression triumphant, puzzled, and eager at the same time.

Startled, Calypso stared at him as if he had gone mad. "Um…you know what-"

But Orion was already running to the door, and she cried frantically as she rushed after him, "Wait! What's going on?! I thought you had time before going back to Zraven Citadel, and there's so much I would like to discuss with you. What are you going to do with Lez, Draco, and the Dark Lord? Will you fully bond with Lez, will you do as he asked regarding Draco? And I have to tell you about Draco! And how are you going to-"

"You can tell me about Draco on the way!" shouted Orion over his shoulder, still speeding along corridors and down a stairway towards the manor's front doors.

Then, as he remembered how exhausted Calypso had looked and that she had spent a whole night and part of the day in a Ministry cell, he halted right in front of the doors and turned around to wait for her.

Calypso finally reached him, heavily panting and puffing, disheveled and looking a bit peaky.

"On the way where?" she panted out, placing a hand on the door to support herself while she recovered her breath.

"I don't know yet," replied Orion, devilishly grinning at her. "But I will, soon." The moment she eyed him weirdly, shot him a quizzical glance and opened her mouth, he added quickly, "Don't ask. Just help me out."

Orion didn't even give her time to nod before he grasped her hand and swiftly opened the ornate doors, nonchalantly striding outside and taking the path that would lead them to Potter Manor's gates, slowing his steps to match Calypso's, gently pulling her along.

"Are you mad?!" hissed Calypso under her breath the moment they crossed the gates, the last wards tingling over them as she started to jerk him backwards. "We cannot go outside! We could be seen, Aurors could-"

"The only light wizard who knows about Potter Manor is Arian," cut in Orion, shooting her a soothing glance as he continued to firmly drag her after him.

"I still don't think we should-"

"Here," said Orion, releasing her hand when they finally reached the graveled road.

He swiftly whipped out his wand and gave it a flick, a shimmer of magic instantly appearing around them, wrapping them in a sphere, while a pleasantly chilly summer-night breeze flapped Calypso's robes and rustled his hair.

"A disillusionment bubble, satisfied?" said Orion glancing around, faintly seeing the rolling green hills dimly illuminated under the starry dark sky.

"Not really," huffed Calypso, scowling as she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "What, exactly, are we doing standing in the middle of the road?"

Orion grasped her shoulders, frowning pensively as he moved her around to stand precisely where he wanted her to, as he muttered, "He stood right here... Stay exactly like that - don't move." He released her, and took two steps back. "And I stood here." He gently clutched Calypso's chin and made her turn her head around, his frown deepening. "And Arian glanced this way… There, stay absolutely still, don't move an inch and stare right ahead of you."

The second she was facing the same direction he remembered Arian looking at, he released her chin and his gaze followed hers.

"There," he said, pointing a finger in that direction, his frown turning puzzled when he saw nothing but more hills in the distance. "Arian glanced that way when he started to strangely remark about Potter Manor's location, saying it was 'very practical given things'."

Calypso snapped her head around to gaze at him with raised eyebrows. "What are you-"

"This road is called Druids' Path," interrupted Orion, dropping his hand as he pierced her with his eyes. "Merlin knows when it was named as such, but it had to be before purebloods started building their manors along the road. DRUID, Scaly!"

Staring at him with round eyes, she suddenly gasped and said slowly, "You think that Arian was dropping a hint? That he was looking at-"

"Yes," said Orion, triumphantly grinning at her. "And I'm not wasting a second longer to see if I'm right or not." He then instantly shot out a hand towards Potter Manor's gates. "Accio broo-"

Instantly, Calypso abruptly clutched his wrist, pulling it down. "Oh, no, we're not! I'm not getting on a broom-"

"We?" interjected Orion sharply, narrowing his eyes at her. "We are not going anywhere. I am. You are going back to Potter Manor, and to bed, safe and sound-"

"I'm coming along!" snapped Calypso briskly, glaring at him. "It could be a trap! Arian could have Aurors or Order members waiting there for you, expecting you to go wherever that direction leads to-"

"Arian doesn't want me to get captured," scoffed Orion with a roll of his eyes. "He could have done it himself already, numerous times. He wants me to become the VA, Scaly. So for now, all his hints should be trusted and followed-"

"Arian is the last light wizard on Earth that should ever be trusted, Orion!" interrupted Calypso adamantly, her expression firm and resolute. "Especially after all the things you know now, after everything the Lady of the Lake disclosed to you…"

She trailed off, staring blankly into vacant space, and suddenly her expression brightened, and she cried, "Oh, I have just the thing!"

And with that, she vanished into thin air. Orion blinked at her abrupt disapparation, and he blinked again when she suddenly appeared before him mere seconds afterwards, with something large tucked under her arm.

She shot him a smirk and dropped it to the ground, and the moment she snapped her fingers, Orion finally saw what it was. It seemed to have sprung alive, unrolling on the ground and then floating into the air in front of Calypso's knees; the moonlight bathing it and showing its ocean blue, silk strands and fringe finished with gold threads.

"Your magic carpet!" said Orion exultantly, gazing at it with deep admiration, feeling utterly thrilled.

"If we have to explore the area, then we're travelling in style," said Calypso airily, lifting her nose up, "as comfortably and safely as possible, and not on a flying stick."

She grinned at his fascination and then slowly climbed on the carpet, wobbling on it as she then attempted to balance herself to sit on her folded knees. The young witch seemed to have second thoughts when she glanced at the ground several inches below her, a grimace on her face, undoubtedly already missing having her feet safely firm on land.

But then she sighed, and shot Orion a glance as she patted the place on the carpet besides her. "Hop on."

Orion didn't require any further encouragement. He widely grinned at her, and was about to take a leap when her horrified scream made him halt and stare at her, dumbfounded.

"I didn't mean it literally, you dolt!" shrieked Calypso, her face pale as she frantically clutched the front corners of the carpet, gripping the fringe threads. "If you jump on, you'll make me fall-"

Orion stared at her incredulously. "You're less than half a feet above the bloody ground, Scaly!"

"I could still break a limb if I fell and landed awkwardly," she hissed under her breath, bristling. "Now, please, get on like any civilized wizard would!"

"You spoil all the fun," grumbled Orion mutinously, but in the end he carefully climbed on the carpet under her watchful, strict gaze.

"Well … here we go…" mumbled Calypso as soon as he was settled besides her, slowly pulling up the corners of the carpet, her face increasingly paling further as more distance was put between them and firm land. "Which direction was it again?"

"That way," replied Orion eagerly, pointing a finger into the distance.

Soon, they were flying forwards, much slower and lower than Orion would have, but still with the surrounding landscape flashing by, as they shot ahead under the dark skies, with the disillusionment bubble enveloping carpet and passengers in a shimmering sphere, making them invisible to all.

"There's still nothing but more hills and the road twisting here and there," remarked Orion with a frown on his face, as he gazed over the edge of the carpet, with his hair blowing in the wind in all directions, his wand in hand, alert and on guard. "And we're about to leave wizarding Wiltshire and enter the muggle area of the county."

"Perhaps it's something muggle?" offered Calypso not sounding very confident, briefly side-glancing at him before she concentrated back on steering the magic carpet, still grasping its front corners with a white-knuckled tight grasp.

"Not likely, is it?" muttered Orion, his frown deepening as he started seeing small muggle towns to his right and left, in the distance but still distinguishable. "And look, the Druids' Path continues, even though there's nothing here. It must lead somewhere, since it's going in the same direction that Arian glanced at."

Not long after he had said that, his face dropped when the gravel of the road below them scattered on grass-covered grounds, the path losing its definition until there was nothing left of it, ending.

Calypso shot him an apprehensive side-glance. "Now what?"

"Keep on going," muttered Orion tensely, a dark scowl on his face as they flew over it, then seeing the end of the road disappear behind them.

From hence forward, they kept silent, but it was evident to Orion that Calypso was having his same thoughts – that it was quite pointless to do so: there was nothing but hills and distant muggle towns to the sides, they had left behind the wizarding section of the county long ago, and they didn't know what they were looking for, exactly.

Suddenly, when he had lost all hope of miraculously finding anything, he frowned when he felt his wand vibrating in his hand. In the next blink of the eye, he yelped in startlement when it burned his fingers and shot out of his tight grip on it.

Gasping, Orion saw his Death and Life wand surging up into the air, spinning, vibrating, and glowing white with twisting swirls of blackness. Abruptly, it shot straight ahead of them, like an arrow sizzling and flying into the darkness of the night.

"Follow it!" shouted Orion urgently.

In the next second, Calypso's reaction not quick enough for him, he was leaning forward to clutch the corners of the carpet, swatting Calypso's hands to take control, and immediately making them rush after the wand.

Calypso shrieked with terrified alarm, her face draining from all color, but she didn't attempt to gain back steering control and ended up gripping Orion's arm in a vise-like clutch, holding on for dear life.

"We must be close – my Death and Life wand has a link to it, it's clear!" he yelled over the noise of the rushing wind, as they soared up high into the dark skies, following the glow of the wand in the distance ahead.

"It's showing the way to you," breathed out Calypso into his ear, pressing her side closer to his, her grasp on him tightening jerkily, "to the future VA... The Lady of the Lake must have known this would happen when you went out to look for it and when you were close enough for your wand to react…"

Suddenly, Orion saw his glowing wand make a sudden dive ahead of them and he instantly plunged them downwards to quickly follow after it. It was when they shot out from under a cluster of clouds, that he caught sight of the shadowed shapes contrasting against the moonlit background. Ahead of them, with his wand flying directly towards it, was a small hill with a flat mound looking as if monoliths had sprung from it.

Calypso gasped by his side, at the same time that he muttered with a dark frown on his face, "This cannot be it. It's a prehistoric monument that was erected by muggles around 2500 BC-"

"No, this is it! You were right – this is what Arian hinted to you," interrupted Calypso breathlessly, while she frenziedly shook his forearm, which she had clutched even tighter in her excitement. "Wizarding archeologists believe its construction evolved in several phases spanning at least 1500 years, and that most of it was done by Druids in the later stages – that they used it for ceremonies, rites, and Circe knows what else. And it's claimed that intensity-measurements of magical fields in its very center are off the charts, but no one has ever discovered why! It's a famed mystery!"

Her breathing turned loud as she side-glanced at him to pierce him with her wide-eyed gaze, as she said slowly, as if the revelation was fully sinking into her own mind, "It has been called the Druids' Circle, Orion. Ages ago, the road must have led directly to it. This is it."

Orion shot her a brief glance, before he nodded in understanding and then mutely started to pull down the corners of the magic carpet. His heart was thundering in his chest and his blood rushing through his veins as their destination speedily drew closer, his glowing wand way ahead of them flying straight towards it.

They were reaching Stonehenge.


	36. The Enlightened

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter! I hope you enjoy this one.

* * *

**Chapter 36  
**

"Do you see any mists?!" cried Calypso excitedly, wildly glancing around with wide, hopeful eyes filled with anticipation.

"No," said Orion for the umpteenth time, rolling his eyes at her as they explored the circular setting of large standing stones of Stonehenge.

His Death and Life wand was back in his hand. The moment they had landed, the wand which had been floating above Stonehenge had stopped glowing and it had shot straight back into his hand, settling itself in his palm as it if was the most ordinary of wands. Orion hadn't known quite what to do, except to grasp it again and use it, as indeed he had.

The first thing he did, before exploring the area, was to reach the small wooden lodge near Stonehenge. It was late at night but the glow of a television set could be seen coming from the small lodge's window. He didn't have to muse much before knowing that the muggle watching the telly in his home had to be the person guarding Stonehenge. Thus, for precaution, he had flung open the door of the lodge and swiftly casted a Stupefy at the muggle's back. The poor old man hadn't known what hit him: the muggle had slumped on his couch, and would most probably believe that he had fallen asleep while watching his favorite nightshow.

Now Orion was pacing around the large standing stones of Stonehenge, with a small Lumos globe floating above his shoulder, providing them enough light to inspect their surroundings. Calypso was eagerly and happily yapping by his side, with her magical carpet rolled and standing vertically, hopping after her as if it had a life of its own.

"Oh, this is such a great discovery!" rushed out Calypso, trailing her fingers over a pillar-like stone which stood vertically next to another, with a flat stone set vertically on top of both, forming what looked like some sort of archway, one of many which conformed a circle around the flat mound of the small hill they were at. "This place must have been the gate to Avalon – the magical mists must have been seen right here! If we could only tell the wizarding world about this-"

"We can't," snapped Orion sharply, shooting her a stern glance, since she hadn't stopped babbling about it since the moment they had started inspecting the standing stones. "No one must know what Stonehenge really was. Or that it can still possibly work as a gate to Avalon."

Calypso shot him a sideways indignant scowl. "I know. I'm not a fool. I was just saying that it's a pity that you can't take credit for this discovery-"

"I haven't discovered anything yet," interjected Orion curtly, waving a hand at the innocently standing stones of the prehistoric monument. "Seemingly, there's nothing here but stones, stones, and more stones. And I don't want to be given credit for anything. I much prefer that the mystery of Stonehenge remains as such."

"But you do feel it, don't you?" breathed out Calypso, glancing around with wide eyes, an entranced and thrilled look on her face.

"Yeah," muttered Orion, another shiver running down his spine.

He had felt 'it' the moment they had landed at Stonehenge – the intensity of the magical fields that Calypso had spoken about. Magic was everywhere in the air, feeling like heavy clouds hovering all over the place, almost suffocating in its density. There was nothing of it that was visible, but his skin was covered in goose-bumps, his flesh tingled, and his very inner magical core seemed to be wildly reacting to it, animated and eager.

Furthermore, the magic in the air, and even seemingly coming from the grass-covered ground and the standing stones, felt like a confluence of forces. It felt as if it was composed by clashing winds of dark and light magic, meshing, revolving around each other, but also battling. It charged the atmosphere with a heavy feeling of static electricity, making Orion's small hairs on his nape stand up, as if a great, thunderous storm was about to unleash upon him.

"I don't understand why you aren't seeing any mists," said Calypso with a huff, trailing after him as he went to closely inspect one of the monolith-like stones. "I didn't expect that I would see anything, but I was sure that you would. You are Mordred, the Lady of the Lake was your ancestor! So why aren't you seeing-"

She broke off the moment she saw Orion staring down at his wand with a frown on his face, and in the next heartbeat she was standing by his side, piercing him with eager eyes. "What is it?"

"It's acting up again," muttered Orion, his gaze fixed on his wand, since it had suddenly started to vibrate in his hand. But it didn't burn as before, it simply seemed to be thrumming gently. "It feels, er… well, impatient."

"Aren't we all," said Calypso, shooting him a grin. "Let it go free again!"

With a sharp intake of breath, Orion snapped his hand open and in the next second the most familiar and wonderful of melodies echoed all around him. His wand was spinning in the air, calmly and slowly floating towards the center of Stonehenge, and two white shapes were flying around the wand, circling and dancing around it, a white phoenix and a basilisk, sounds coming from them, infusing Orion with a deep feeling of peace and tranquility yet also excitement.

"What is it? What's happening?"

Orion shot Calypso a brief frown. "Don't you see them? Don't you hear them?"

"See and hear what?" she said with puzzlement, her eyes quickly glancing around the dark skies. "Your wand has just disappeared, Orion! Are you telling me that you can still see it?"

"Yes, I can, and my patroni are with it. Come, let's follow!" he said quickly, snatching her hand and urgently pulling her after him.

"But you didn't conjure your patroni," panted out Calypso, looking utterly befuddled as she was dragged into the center of the historic site.

"We've always known that my patroni are linked to my wand, to its core, since it's dual with phoenix tears and basilisk poison, life and death…" Orion trailed off, dropping her hand while his eyes grew large, as his gaze landed on what stood before him. He shot Calypso a perplexed glance, and murmured slowly, "That wasn't there before-"

"What do you see?" she demanded breathlessly, her gaze snapping left, right and center, evidently seeing nothing but trying very hard to find anything.

"It's… beautiful," whispered Orion, now fixedly staring at it, having difficulty in trying to express it in words, while the song of his patroni - the trill of the phoenix meshed with the lulling hissing of the basilisk- reverberated in his ears.

He wildly gestured at it; at the lights he was seeing glowing in a full spectrum of swirling colors, flashing all around something apparently made of stone, while his patroni circled it from above, dancing around his Death and Life wand, which floated directly above it.

"It's like an aurora borealis… my wand is hovering over it, pointing down at…" He frowned and took several steps to approach it, his gaze inspecting it closely. "It's like one of the archways that forms the circle of Stonehenge, but it looks even older and it only reaches my waist." He drew in a deep intake of breath, and shot her a glance. "It looks like an altar, Scaly. And there's something carved on the horizontal slab of stone."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Calypso eagerly, squirming with excitement. "It's evident it's only meant to be seen by you, by a Vindico. So go check it out."

Orion needed no further encouragement. His heart was loudly thumping with anticipation as he took the small steps required to be in front of the stones, and holding his breath, he extended a hand and touched it. "It's solid. This is no illusion."

With a jerk, he instantly withdrew his hand when a loud, victorious, trilling cry resounded all around him. In the next bat of the eye, he saw his phoenix patronus plunging into his Death and Life wand, being instantly followed by the white, glowing basilisk. Orion blinked when his wand dropped onto the horizontal slab of stone, while the lights he had likened to an aurora borealis seemed to dim and fade all around him. But the altar-like conformation of stones still remained, and now, without so many flashy lights around it, except the Lumos globe over his shoulder, he could see it more clearly.

Feeling his blood rushing through his veins and his heart wildly pumping, he quickly snatched his wand back to see what was inscribed on the slab of stone it had landed on. Something lodged in his throat and he jerkily tightened his fingers around his wand when he saw the symbols deeply carved in the middle of the stone.

"This cannot be," he gasped out, his eyes wide and his voice shaky and flabbergasted, before anger and disappointment swept over him.

"Oh, what is it? I'm dying here, Orion!" whined Calypso, her tone both beseeching and impatient.

Orion shot her a dark glare, and his jaw clenched as he bit out, "I'll show you, then."

With a jerky flick of his wand, he conjured inked quill and parchment, and he immediately laid the piece of parchment over the symbols, tracing them on the parchment with the quill.

The moment he was done, he briskly slapped the parchment into her hands, as he snapped dourly, "It doesn't make sense. See it for yourself. "

Calypso's eyebrows had shot to her hairline, but she didn't waste a second longer in pulling the parchment up to her face, to inspect his drawing closely. "It's two symbols intertwined with each other… The one on the left is the… Oh, it's the VA symbol!" She shot him a wide, excited grin. "Then we were right, this place is the-"

"The problem is the other symbol," snapped Orion sharply, a dark scowl on his face. "Do you know what it is?"

She stared at him nonplussed, before her gaze zeroed in on the parchment again, a puzzled and pensive frown soon spreading over her face. "I think I've seen it before somewhere… It rings a bell-"

"It's the muggles' symbol for their God, Scaly!" spat Orion, waving an angered hand at the original symbol carved on the stone of the altar-like construction. "See… the pyramid, the flames at the top with an eye in them –"

"Oh, I remember!" cried Calypso ecstatically, her fingertips trailing over the symbol drawn on the parchment. "But you're partly wrong, Orion. I read about this in the muggle books about religion I've been studying. This symbol is a representation of the muggle God, it's even in American dollars bills and muggles have a lot of loony conspiracy theories about it, but it's called the All-Seeing Eye, and it's the original symbol of Freemasonry, which goes back as far as-"

"I'm glad to know that your research is bearing fruits already," interjected Orion tartly, his temper souring with each passing second. "But I don't need a word for word account of what you've read-"

"It's clear to me that I have to start sending you my notes," interrupted Calypso sharply, shooting him a stern glance. "You should begin learning as much as I am about muggle religions and weaponry, and the spells I think we could use-"

"Scaly," snapped Orion with exasperation, "send me all the notes you like, but don't start rambling about stuff that doesn't matter right now."

Calypso huffed impatiently as she poked a finger on the piece of parchment she was holding. "But it does matter! This is the symbol of the Freemasons and I have notes about them-"

"And I don't need to read them to know that they are, or were, some sort of muggle sect," interjected Orion, crossing his arms over his chest as he leveled her with a hard gaze. "That's the whole point, Scaly! What's a muggle symbol doing here?! Carved on a stone altar only I, and surely Arian too, can see. On a stone altar that must date back to the times of Merlin, certainly built by Druids and only seen by them and those they allowed, and obviously hidden by magic. So tell me what a muggle symbol is doing here and how it's possible!"

She clamped her mouth shut, staring at him with a frown on her face, and then her eyes trailed back to the piece of parchment, her frown deepening as her gaze narrowed on the details of the drawn symbol.

"What's this underneath the pyramid?" she inquired, pointing a finger at it as she showed him the drawing.

"Oh, that's the cherry on top of the cake," drawled Orion sourly, still standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression sullen and moody. "Those are Druidic Runes."

"Druidic Runes?" She stared at him, and then a wide, excited smile broke on her face. "Oh, but when you worked on deciphering Cadmus' journal, you learned them. You know what it says, then?"

"Yeah," grumbled Orion darkly, snatching the piece of parchment from her hands to point at the small runes he had drawn under the symbol's pyramid. "This one is the Flame Rune, it means 'light'. And this other, is the Torch Rune, it means 'to bear', to-"

"Light Bearer?" breathed out Calypso, staring at him with round eyes. "It says that?"

"Well, yes," replied Orion gruffly. "But the Torch Rune can also mean champion, avenger, protector, fighter-"

"Vindico Lumen!" she cried joyfully, as it if were the most marvelous of revelations. "This is it, then! We were right about this place. This is the symbol for Vindico Lumen and it's here, intertwined with your symbol, the one for VA. Right here in the middle of the Druids' Circle-"

"Look," interrupted Orion curtly, jerkily carding his fingers through his hair. "I have no doubt that, indeed, that symbol is the one for Vindico Lumen, and that it, together with mine, represent Avalon, its twin isles. And thus, that in Stonehenge -" he slapped a hand on the horizontal stone slab of the altar, feeling a weird shiver running down his spine, which he shortly dismissed "- that right here, is the place where I have to bring the Hallows and somehow join them. And that then I'll see 'mists', or whatever, and a way into Avalon will be revealed to me."

He paused and shot her a dark scowl, his teeth gritting as he bit out, "But again, why is a muggle symbol part of the Vindico Lumen representation? Except for the Druidic Runes, the rest is purely a muggle symbol of their God!"

Orion angrily waved a hand, and groused out, "Am I supposed to believe all the religious nonsense Arian spouted? Am I to believe that he's a God come to Earth?!" He snidely scoffed. "Please! If I didn't know everything I do, I would think this symbol is a joke. But it can't be, since it's clear that it was carved on this altar millennia ago – it looks as old as wand-making! So how is it possible? A muggle symbol with Druidic Runes, carved on a magical place – it doesn't make sense!"

"I'm sure there's a logical and sensible explanation to this symbol," piped in Calypso, looking thoroughly nonchalant and simply pleased with their discoveries so far. She shot him a wide grin, and added excitedly, "As a matter of fact, I think we're only missing one piece of the puzzle. And I know who has it. I know who can tell us about this symbol."

Orion shot her a quizzical glance, and murmured pensively, "You're thinking about Ba-"

"Bathilda Bagshot - exactly!" said Calypso triumphantly, before she rambled eagerly, "It all fits. Arian glanced this way because he wanted you to find this altar and see the symbol. And he can See into the past as long as you're not in it, according to Trelawney, so he must know everything about the Lady of Lake. He could have Seen how she created the Book and what is written there. He could know about everything - your children, the vampire legend regarding your son with Lez, what happened during Merlin's times and yours as Mordred – in short, he must have known exactly what Vivian would tell you! And he must have conjectured that you were going to see her as soon as you went to Zraven Citadel. He probably knows that you've already visited her!"

Orion stared at her musingly, and said slowly, "So you think he told me about-"

"I think he told you to ask Kreacher about Regulus so that you would figure out that it was Gaia who had influenced you when you were ten years old," interrupted Calypso quickly, widely smiling at him. "And he told you to ask your father about Bagshot, so that you would read your mother's letter mentioning the old historian. And previously he had dropped the glance towards this place, and he knew you would find it and figure its purpose once you had spoken to the Kraljica Mati. So it's evident that Bagshot is the missing piece. I don't think she could know more about you and the VA issue than you already know from the Lady of the Lake."

Her smile grew victorious and she waved the piece of parchment at him. "But I do think that Bagshot, given her profession and her links to the Dumbledore family, must know about this symbol, about Arian, and about what happened to Hyperion Valenor. I think that's exactly what Arian is waiting for you to find out."

"For what purpose?" groused out Orion, his eyes narrowing to slits. "And then what happens? What will he do?"

"Well, I don't know, do I?" said Calypso with an exasperated roll of her eyes. Suddenly, she grasped his forearm and shook it excitedly. "And we won't know until we see her. Let's go tonight, now! Do you still have-"

"I have Ragnarok's address with me, yeah," interrupted Orion coolly. He shot a dark glare at the symbol intertwined with the VA's on the stone altar, and muttered darkly, "I don't like this. I don't like this at all, Scaly. That symbol is-"

"I know you don't like the stupid symbol," snapped Calypso impatiently, "but that's hardly going to give us answers. Bagshot could!"

"Fine, fine," grumbled Orion with a heavy sigh. "You're right. Get your carpet. I'll apparate us, since you've never been there."

She shot him a content smile, and she didn't even have to chase around for her magical carpet given that it had been silently hopping by her side since the moment they had halted at the center of Stonehenge.

Now, with her carpet shrunk and in her pocket, she was gazing at him with eager anticipation. Orion, for his part, was glancing at her and the stone altar with a musing expression on his face.

"Do something for me, Scaly," he said quietly. "Try touch it."

Calypso's eyebrows shot to her hairline. "But I can't even see it-"

"Just try, please," he pressed on sternly.

"Alright," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, before she took several steps forward and shot out a hand, waving it ahead of her. "It's like nothing's here."

Orion grinned with satisfaction when he observed how her whole arm sunk through the stone altar as if it were a mere invisible illusion. "Great. Then it's truly safe."

"What, from mere mortals like myself?" quipped Calypso sarcastically, letting out an annoyed huff.

"Precisely," said Orion, impishly grinning at her.

And without another hitch of breath, he tightly grasped her forearm and concentrated on a clear picture of Godric's Hollow's town square, remembering it from the time his father had taken him to visit Lily's and James Potter's graves, instantly pulling Calypso into a side-along apparition.

* * *

"It's late for a visit. It's way past midnight," whispered Orion, glancing from his wristwatch to the piece of parchment holding the address and then back to a street name sign, as they took a left from Godric's Hollow's main square. "If Ragnarok receives us he'll have my head for bothering him at such an hour."

"I'm sure your childhood tutor will be thrilled to see you again after so long," interjected Calypso dismissively. "Besides, he's an Aux. He'll be serving you once you become the VA, so you have every right to ask for his assistance, no matter the time."

"Let's hope he thinks the same. I know Komorov wouldn't," murmured Orion, his gaze flickering from the piece of parchment to a house number, and back. "I think it's the next door." He then glanced around with a frown on his face. "The town is eerily quiet, don't you think?"

"It's a predominantly light wizarding town, and they are scared," whispered Calypso, a smug smile on her lips. "Scrimgeour might be telling them that all is well, but they know what's coming. They know that you're allied to the Dark Lord, and thanks to your ice statue, they also know that you're Grindelwald's grandson. And they think Dumbledore's dead. They know the war is coming and that they don't stand a chance."

"Yes, you're right," muttered Orion, glancing at all the windows covered by curtains, not a single light coming from any house. "There's fear in the air. You can almost taste it."

"True," piped in Calypso, shooting him a wide smirk. "And it tastes divinely, doesn't it?"

Orion eyed her with amusement, before he finally stood before a door with a number five crookedly dangling on top of it. The house before them didn't look like much; it was small, made of stone, and looked as if it was squeezed among many others of the same type.

"This is it," he said calmly, pocketing the small piece of parchment back into his pants, and wasting no time in knocking on the plain door.

At first, nothing seemed to happen, and then he heard shuffling sounds coming from within, along with a 'thump' and a muffled string of curses. Well, now there was no doubt in his mind that they had just awoken Ragnarok from his night sleep and that the poor man had just knocked over some furniture. Indeed, he heard muffled swear words from within right up until the moment the front door was yanked open, undoubtedly angrily.

The next second, Orion could see nothing from the darkness beyond the parted door except a wand poking straightly at his nose, and the aged, wrinkled hand holding it.

"State your name and business," commanded a wheezing voice.

"Um, it's me, Orion Black-"

"We'll see about that," interrupted the voice from the depths of the house. "Which family was I serving when we first met? And how did you come to be my pupil?"

Orion shot Calypso a blinking glance, before he gazed back into the darkness. "The Malfoys. You were Draco Malfoy's childhood tutor and you took me as your pupil for some months before I went to Durmstrang. I asked my dad for a tutor and Lucius convinced my father that I needed one to teach me about pureblood stuff and also to prepare me for school." He scoffed and added with wry amusement, "And surely Lucius insisted so much on it because he wanted me to be under his influence-"

"Quite so," interjected the gruff voice. "And what did I give you, and only you."

"The books written in parseltongue," replied Orion coolly. "They were from your friend Gregorovitch and you gave them to me the moment you discovered I was a parselmouth."

"And the moment I started suspecting what you truly were, just as my dear friend had also surmised by then," said the voice, its tone now calmer and more trusting. "What do you now know me to be?"

"An Aux Atrum," whispered Orion, becoming increasingly impatient as he glanced around the deserted street and the curtained windows of the houses along it. "Look, Ragnarok, just let us in before some nosy old lady sees us from her window-"

"Who's your friend, my boy?"

"This is Calypso Rosier," snapped Orion shortly, gesturing at her by his side.

"Romulus' daughter? I should have known. I'm told you two are as thick as thieves." A wheezing chuckle resounded, and then the door was suddenly flung wide open. "What are you waiting for? Come in, my wayward youngsters."

Calypso shot Orion a tense glance before stepping inside, and understanding the look she gave him, he plucked out his wand and entered the house, alert and on guard.

"Let me have a look at you, my boy. It has been many years!" said the old man cheerfully, waving his wand as he made way to the small sitting room of the house.

Suddenly, all lights flared alive in the room, coming from several oil lamps and candles propped here and there, and Orion had his first chance to see the wizard properly.

Orion's jaw almost hung agape, but he checked himself just in time. Still, the impression was a marked one. Ragnarok looked to him as if he had aged decades. There was no doubt that the years hadn't been gentle with the wizard. The once brown hair peppered with grey was now almost white, the beard reached the waist of the man's nightgown, and the eyes were now spectacled with small, squared eyeglasses which seemed to have known a better time.

"You've become a young man," said Ragnarok, with a pleased expression on his wrinkled face, his eyes roving over Orion. He clicked his tongue with appreciation, a chuckle wheezing out of him. "And you have Gellert's magic in you, just as we were informed. There's no doubt about that, my boy. The dark aura I see swirling around you-"

"Before we start talking," interrupted Orion curtly, partly to get to the point and also because he really didn't want to discuss anything related to Grindelwald – at least not as if his death had been all about acquiring power, like the old man clearly thought, "I would like some proof of your identity, as you did with me."

He pointedly stared at the old man, while he surreptitiously tightened his grasp on his wand by his side.

"Easily done, if what I've been told is true," said Ragnarok placidly, slowly turning his back to them, as he parted his white hair from his nape. "What do you see?"

With a breath of relief, Orion grinned and instantly pocketed his wand. "The VA symbol – the mark all Aux Atrum have."

"I presume that is enough evidence of my identity for you?" said the old man, smiling back at him as he slowly took a seat on a creaking couch.

Orion nodded at him while he took a chair across from the old wizard, Calypso seating herself right by his side.

"I see that you're not inclined to talk about your grandfather," said Ragnarok conversationally, quirking an eyebrow at him, before he casually flicked his wand to conjure a tea set.

"I didn't come here to talk about Gellert," said Orion shortly, only pausing to take the tea cup he was offered. "Thanks. As I was saying, I don't want to discuss Gellert with you or anyone else. We came here because, um…" He shot Calypso a brief glance, before he gazed back at the old man. "Well, I should start from the beginning, I suppose. I recently discovered that I'm Mo-"

"I don't think he knows," whispered Calypso urgently into his ear, warningly grasping his arm. "You shouldn't tell him about it, about the KM, or about the place we've just come from. I don't think Morgana's spirit has even told Komorov or any previous Aux leader-"

"What don't I know?" interrupted Ragnarok, arching a bushy eyebrow at them as he speared them with his spectacled gaze. "I may be quite old, young miss, but my hearing has not yet failed me."

"Nothing important," said Orion placidly, imperceptibly nodding at Calypso, a silent thanks to her.

Ragnarok shot them a shrewd, suspicious glance. "It didn't sound like that to me."

"We came here because we know about the task Karkaroff appointed to you," interjected Calypso sharply, pinning the old man with her large, black eyes. She waved a hand at the room. "We know why you've been living here, in Godric's Hollow, for some years now-"

"Ah, I shouldn't be surprised," interrupted the old wizard, a wheezing chuckle bubbling from his dry, thin lips. "You have a reputation for being quite adept at spying, even on your own father-"

"I beg your pardon?" hissed out Calypso bristling, an annoyed and angered expression sweeping over her face. "That's neither here nor there, nor is it true-"

"I hear that you two have led quite an adventurous life during your school years," said Ragnarok, eyeing both of them while he turned a deaf ear to Calypso's interruption. "Finding Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, breaking into a Department of Mystery, revealing the prophecy, finding Hallows, breaking into Nurmengard-"

"What's your point?" interjected Orion, becoming increasingly wary and impatient.

"As of lately, we've had frequent Aux meetings," said Ragnarok conversationally, before he took a slow sip from his tea, his gaze never leaving Orion. He held the tea cup back on his lap, and continued pleasantly, "You seem to be digging deeply into Vindico matters, including some investigative work regarding the Dumbledore boy. Our leader, Komorov, and Sebastien Valois, informed us of what you know and suspect about Arian Valenor. That's all very well, in my opinion. But I must ask, what are you doing? What are you waiting for, young man?"

Orion stared at him with a puzzled frown on his face. "What do you mean-"

"Gustav has died," said Ragnarok stiffly, piercing him with a hard gaze. "He was murdered some time ago by Voldemort, because the Dark Lord wanted to know about the Elder Wand."

"Um, er... I know," muttured Orion uncomfortably, eyeing him carefully. "I saw it through Voldemort's eyes. I'm sorry for your loss. I know Gregorovitch was not only a fellow Aux but also your close friend-"

"Ah, yes, you saw it because you're one of his horcruxes," interrupted Ragnarok sharply. "That's the reason for the questions which seem to have surprised you. I ask again, what are you waiting for? You need only to learn more Necromancy to find a way to get rid of the piece of soul inside you. And according to Komorov, you could already do it with the aid of the Resurrection Stone, if you wanted to. Furthermore, you supposedly know what and where most of Voldemort's horcruxes are. You need only destroy them in order to kill him and absorb his raw dark magic. Furthermore, you have two Hallows, and the Elder Wand could have already been in your possession if you had wanted. You left Dumbledore alive, you didn't take the Wand, and you keep procrastinating in your duty to-"

"I assure you that I'll try to become the VA as soon as I can," cut in Orion vehemently, "but I have many things to consider-"

"Such as saving Tom Riddle from his own folly and crazed hunger for power?"

Orion instantly tensed and narrowed his eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," replied the old man calmly, spearing him with an intense, pointed gaze, "that none of us have any doubt that he will try to kill you the moment he knows about the Hallows and the Vindico Atrum matter. And he will know, sooner or later, my boy, make no mistake. Secrets such as those, given all you've been doing, and not covertly enough, are bound to be known."

"We'll keep it in mind," piped in Calypso, stiffly smiling at the old wizard. "But I don't think it's any of your business, or the Aux's, what Orion decides to do with the Dark Lord."

"It is our business, young lady, when it threatens to undo all we've worked for," said Ragnarok sternly. "When it threatens the life of the one who can become our Vindico." He shot Orion a hard, pointed gaze, as he pressed on insistently, "We were informed about the situation with the horcruxes, and we wonder why you haven't acted yet-"

"And I assume that Komorov didn't fail to tell you that I have a deal with him regarding Voldemort's horcruxes," interrupted Orion curtly, narrowing his eyes at him. "They are my task, my business, and none of you will act without my permission. I'll be the one to gather them, no one else." He shot him a smirk, and relaxed as he leaned back on his seat. "Besides, none of you know what they are or where."

"We have some clue-"

"A deal is a deal," snapped Orion briskly. "Take it to Komorov if you have complaints."

"Why are you going to such lengths to spare such an unworthy and dangerous wizard?" interjected Ragnarok, looking troubled but also determined and stern. "We know about your pact with the Guild. Vulcan Vagnarov, may he rest in peace, was quite worried about it. He was concerned that you would take that path to attain magical power in order to spare Voldemort's life." He leaned forward in his seat, and piercingly stared at him as he added sharply, "Is that what you're prepared to do? To become the Argonaut's pupil?"

At Orion's startled surprised, the old man curtly nodded at him. "Oh, yes, I know about the Argonaut. Vulcan told me about him, and he had nothing good to say. Are you aware of what you'll become under that Necromancer's tutelage? If you know, why would you do it, when it would be much simpler and logical to simply follow the prophecy and kill Voldemort-"

"I don't think you understand my position," interjected Orion in a low murmur. "I might be doing it for personal reasons, but they are important to me-"

"Personal reasons?!" snarled Ragnarok, abruptly wheezing out a cough, before he composed himself and skewered him with a hard gaze. "I never took you for a fool, young man, but I'm beginning to doubt that you have what it takes to become the Vindico, if you allow 'personal reasons' to guide you-"

"Enough!" spat Calypso angrily, brusquely setting down her tea cup on the low table between them, making it spill on the old wood. She narrowed her eyes at Ragnarok, and bit out sharply, "Orion might feel obliged to be nice to you out of respect for his former childhood tutor, but I have no reason to do so, old man. You have no right to question the wizard who will become the VA, and as such, your leader and better. What Orion decides to do on all matters is his own business. A follower is not someone who ever has the right to question his master. Now, we want you to take us to Bathilda Bagshot. That's why we're here."

Ragnarok's white, bushy eyebrows shot to his wrinkled forehead. "You're truly your father's daughter."

"I take that as a compliment," snapped Calypso shortly, raising her chin up, her expression hard and curt.

"It was meant as such, young lady." The old man let out a wheezed chuckle and slowly rose to his feet, wobbling on the way up. He shot Orion a glance, and said quietly, "Your friend is right, and I deserved those words. It was not my intention to demand more from you, my boy. I am, I admit, puzzled by some of your decisions, since I wouldn't make them myself in your position. But we must trust that you know what you're doing, and demand no more."

Still frowning, Orion mutely nodded at the old man as he stood up. "Will you take us to Bagshot's house?"

"I'll do more than that," said Ragnarok, pulling a cloak over his nightgown. "If what I suspect about your reason for wanting to see her is correct, then I could be of use if I visited her with you."

"You have befriended her?" asked Orion, following the old wizard to the door.

"I have, and I've already protected her once," said the old man placidly, shooting him a smirk over his shoulder. "Therefore, she trusts me."

Orion frowned at the old man's back. "Protected her from what?"

"From a ravenous, unscrupulous journalist," replied the old wizard, his voice laced with amusement as he carefully opened the front door, peeking out his face to glance outside.

"Skeeter?" gasped out Calypso, shooting Orion a worried glance. "She's seen Bagshot already?"

"All is clear," murmured Ragnarok, beckoning them to move forward.

Orion and Calypso quickly complied and followed the old wizard out of the house, taking, under the cover of the night, a small, narrow street which seemed to twist around the quiet wizarding town.

"Apparently, Ms. Skeeter received an anonymous letter which prompted her to question Bathilda about Albus Dumbledore's past and his relationship with Gellert Grindelwald," whispered Ragnarok, shooting Orion a pointed glance. "I can only surmise that you were the anonymous quill who wrote that letter. A bold move, if I may say so, and not a very wise one. If I hadn't been here, Morgana knows what other information Skeeter would have gleaned from Bathilda."

"But you were here. And it was your task to watch over Bagshot," interjected Calypso sharply, annoyance clear in her voice. "If it had gone wrong it would have been your fault, not Orion's. Now tell us what happened and stop beating around the bush."

The old man seemingly turned a deaf ear to her rude remarks, and continued conversationally, his tone of voice pleasant and nonchalant, "I saw Skeeter going around the town asking about Bathilda, and of course I thought there was no better time to pay a dear neighbor a visit."

"Of course," said Orion, grinning at him. "And what happened when Skeeter found Bagshot?"

"I was pleasantly having tea in dear Bathilda's house when we were impolitely interrupted by a demanding journalist," he shot Orion a sly smirk as they took a turn around a corner, "and poor, clumsy old me stumbled against her just as she made her way inside the parlor, making her purse drop to the floor. Alas, something was broken. A Veritaserum vial. I am repenting for it till this very day."

Orion chuckled under his breath, and slapped a hand on the old man's bony shoulder. "Well done, I say. So Rita didn't get from Bathilda anything except the story about Albus and Gellert, and some of the other unsavory secrets of Dumbledore's past, right?"

"Exactly, and my work was done," said Ragnarok pleasantly. "I'm quite sure that I've gained an enemy in Ms. Skeeter." His dry, thin lips quirked upwards. "I'm looking forward to seeing how she'll take revenge on me. My task here is a very dull one and such occurrence would enliven my existence."

Calypso rolled her eyes at them as they shared a quiet laugh, and then let out an impatient huff. "Are we there yet? We don't have all night, old man-"

"It was you who came to me, Miss Rosier," interrupted Ragnarok gruffly, shooting her an irritated glance over the shoulder. "And as much as I like and respect your father, you'll do well to rein your temper with me or nothing will prevent me for giving you a spanking which I feel would do you great good."

"What did you say?" spit out Calypso in an angered high pitch, already lunging half-way towards the old man before Orion pulled her close to him.

"What's the matter with you?" he whispered sharply, sideways glancing at her with a frown on his face. "He's helping us, and he's right. You're too tense and you're being too short with him-"

"We're here on serious business and you were sniggering with him as if you were two old chums," she hissed under her breath, glowering at him. "And quite frankly, I don't like him. Making you those questions, demanding to know what you were doing, and telling you that it wasn't enough. And even daring to tell you what you should do with the Dark Lord-"

"He said it out of concern, Scaly-"

"He didn't," she groused out sharply. "And you were being too nice to him, when you should be ordering him around and not the other way-"

"If you two youngsters are done squabbling," said Ragnarok calmly, who had suddenly halted before them, arching a bushy eyebrow at them, "I would like to inform you that we've reached Bathilda's house."

"It was about time," snapped Calypso, pulling away from Orion's grasp on her arm as she briskly crossed a small gate and took the steps that led to the front door of a small, cozy-looking house at the outskirts of Godric's Hollow.

With a sigh, Orion followed her while he glanced around their new surroundings, seeing that Bagshot's house was one of the few in that area. There was a street which seemed to connect that part of town with the main square, and another which led to the cemetery, which wasn't too far away since he could distinguish it from his position. All in all, the area looked just like the kind of place in which an old woman would have a house, with several gardens and trees around, and with blossomed flowers on every window sill of every house.

Ragnarok was the first to knock on the wooden door. And the old wizard had to loudly knock several times more before they heard some muffled noises coming from within.

Abruptly, the front door parted slightly, and they caught a glimpse of an old woman peeking out her head, squinting at them with heavily wrinkled eyes, holding up a candle in a saucer which shook in the old witch's arthritic hand.

Orion inspected her closely. Her stoop, her plump stoutness, and her tiny, bowed down frame which was barely level with his chest, all gave an impression of extreme old age. Her head had scant white hair through which the scalp showed clearly, and she was wearing a flowery shawl over a lacy, long nightgown. Her eyes were thick with cataracts and sunken into folds of pale skin, and her wrinkled face was dotted with old age spots. But other than that, she seemed to be in good health, given her rosy cheeks.

"Who are you?" said the old woman, squinting at them, before her gaze landed on Ragnarok. "Ricard, is that you?"

"Indeed it is, Bathilda," said Ragnarok, warmly smiling at the tiny old witch. "Would you let us in? I've come with two friends who would like to speak with you-"

"Who?" said Bagshot, her voice aged and cracked. Suddenly, as she was about to part open the door to let them in, she froze, her squinting eyes fixed on Orion, her wrinkled face paling as if she was seeing a terrible ghost, the candle-saucer in her hand shaking dangerously. "Gellert?"

She looked shaken and terrified, and Calypso shot her foot out just in time to block the door from slamming shut in their faces. Orion caught sight of Calypso about to draw out her wand, but he clutched her wrist and shook his head at her.

"I'm not Gellert Grindelwald!" he said quickly to the old witch, feeling a bit perplexed. "You might have read in the newspapers that he's dead, that they found an ice statue in one of the peaks of the Matterhorn. It's his grave-"

"Yes," said the old woman slowly, apparently recovering herself, somewhat. Yet she kept squinting at him. "But you look like him, not in coloring, but your cheekbones and straight nose… Oh, you're his grandson. You're Harry Potter?"

"Er, um, yeah," said Orion, blinking at her. "But I go by my real name, Orion Black-"

"I have nothing to say to you," said Bagshot firmly, making another attempt to close the door, struggling with Calypso's foot blocking it. The old woman seemed jittery and very nervous, her eyes thick with cataracts squinting from one to the other, mainly at Ragnarok, as if asking for help.

"Bathilda, please, let these two youngsters inside," reiterated Ragnarok, his tone warm, amicable, and mollifying. "They mean no harm, I assure you. They merely wish to speak with you."

Bagshot seemed to be having a great internal debate, before she glanced out her door, peeking at the deserted street and neighboring houses. With a heavy, wheezy sigh, she then beckoned them inside and disappeared into the depths of the house.

They followed her as she hobbled and shuffled into a cozy sitting room which pleasantly smelled of lavender, and the old woman soon started tottering around the place, attempting to light candles and lamps. But the wand in her hand shook too much, and several Lumos spells were misfired before Ragnarok took out his own wand to lit all the candles in the room.

The old witch shot Ragnarok a grateful glance before she slowly took a seat in a plush couch with flowery patterns, gesturing at them to do the same. Orion immediately sat by her side, and his interest was soon caught by the many pictures in ornate, golden frames on a small round table next to the couch.

"Would you like some tea?" she offered gently, apparently finding comfort and safety in taking the role of polite, welcoming hostess.

"No, thank you, ma'am," said Orion, shooting her a warm smile to put her more at ease.

Bagshot seemed to vacillate, and then squinted at him closely. "There isn't much I can tell you about Gellert, Harry. I am not comfortable speaking about such matters-"

"Then perhaps you could tell me a bit more about yourself?" interjected Orion pleasantly, ignoring the pointed and impatient glance Calypso shot him.

"About myself?" repeated slowly the old witch, looking quite surprised as she blinked at him.

"Yes, for instance, what should I call you?" said Orion calmly, arching an eyebrow at her. "Mrs. Grindelwald or Miss Bagshot?"

"Miss Bagshot, if you please," she said with an impassive expression on her face. "I use my maiden name since my husband died many decades ago."

Orion piercingly stared at her. "But your husband was a Grindelwald, wasn't he?"

"Yes," said the old witch with her cracking voice, pointing an arthritic finger to one of the framed pictures. "You can see him there. My husband was Pietr Grindelwald, Gellert's father's -Gerard's- uncle." She squinted at Orion, and added firmly, "But my husband was a good man, Harry. He was nothing like Gerard or the rest of the Grindelwald family. Pietr had been disowned not long after we met." Her expression lightened. "We were both historians, you see-"

"He had been disowned, why?" interjected Orion, frowning at her.

"Oh, I was Pietr's second wife," said the old witch slowly, fumbling with the lacy cuff of her nightgown. "Pietr, as every Grindelwald, was a pureblood dark wizard, but he had taken a light pureblood witch as his wife." She glanced at Orion grimly. "His first wife died in childbirth, bearing a baby – a squib. He was killed by the family and Pietr was disowned due to the shame he had brought upon the family name-"

"That's understandable," interjected Calypso coolly. "It's a measure many pureblood families take, even now-"

"It should not be," interrupted Bagshot sharply, her aged and cracked voice sounding stern. "I did not have any children with my first and only husband due to that horrible tradition. Pietr did not want to go through the same a second time. He feared the possibility of having another squib."

"Then he shouldn't have married a light witch two times in a row," said Calypso calmly, "and you shouldn't have married a dark pureblood."

Orion shot her a reproving, warning glance, seeing how Bagshot's countenance changed, all traces of amiability vanishing from her wrinkled face, and he quickly said reassuringly, feeling the muscles in his face tense as he forced a warm smile, "Miss Bagshot married Pietr Grindelwald out of love. It's clear to see, Scaly. And there's nothing more comendable."

Calypso looked as if she was swallowing a snort, but then she leaned back on her seat, now looking the very picture of polite gentility, shooting the old witch a pleasant smile.

Bagshot seemed to relax minutely, and Orion said nonchalantly, "Then I assume that it was through your husband that you came to meet Antigone Grindelwald – Gellert's mother."

"Antigone?" said the old witch, suddenly tensing again, squinting at him. "Yes... I knew her. When Gerard married Antigone, Pietr's first wife hadn't yet born a squib. Pietr hadn't been disowned yet, and I was merely his colleague and close friend. As such, I was welcomed, as an already famed historian and Pietr's co-worker."

Calypso shot Orion a glance which clearly conveyed that he should get to the point, but he simply glowered at her. He knew what he was doing by taking his time and getting to the issue in a roundabout way. It seemed evident to him that Bagshot would kick them out if he simply demanded to know about the symbol, right there and then. Furthermore, he had to repress his irritability at Calypso's persistent impatience. It was starting to get on his nerves.

"Not very long ago," he said calmly, smiling at the old witch, "I found a letter written by my mother to my father - that is, to Sirius Black." He pierced the old woman with his gaze. "You were mentioned in it, Miss Bagshot."

"Oh, I befriended the young Potter couple when they came to live at Potter's Cottage in this town," said Bagshot with a gentle, reminiscining smile on her wrinkled face. "Your mother was a dear, sweet girl. You might not remember me, Harry, but I used to visit you frequently…" She trailed off, and her expression turned somber. "Before your mother and James were killed. It was such a horrible affair-"

"And you knew then," cut in Orion affably, "when you first saw my mum, didn't you?"

Bagshot squinted at him. "Knew what, Harry?"

"That my mum was Gellert's daughter," said Orion impassively. "That Lily had Antigone's eyes, like my own-"

"Oh, I wouldn't know about that," interrupted Bagshot, nervously playing with the lacy cuff of her nightgown, as she shot a squinting glance at the silent Ragnarok, looking like a skittish rabbit. "My sight has never been good, nor my memory-"

"Come, come, Miss Bagshot," said Orion warmly, brightly grinning at her. "I bet that you even knew back then that Antigone had been Antioch Peverell's descendant."

"Antioch Peverell?!" wheezed out the old witch, clutching her chest with an arthritic hand, squirming jiterrishly on her seat. "I know nothing about the Peverells, young man!"

"A noted historian like yourself… married to another historian and a Grindelwald to boot, who undoubtedly researched into dark pureblooded lines, into myths, legends, and stories…" trailed off Orion, piercing the old witch with a scrutinizing gaze. "You weren't surprised to know that I am Gellert's grandson, because you suspected it since the moment you laid eyes on my mum. Isn't that right, Bathilda?"

"I know nothing!" said the old witch vehemently, gesturing at the corridor which led to the front door. "I ask you to please leave my home-"

"You don't need to answer that," said Orion calmly, his tone soothing as he warmly smiled at her. "I already know it. It's evident. So fear not that I'll ask you more about Gellert or the Grindelwalds. As a matter of fact, I'm more interested in your ties of friendship with the Dumbledore family. You were Kendra Dumbledore's friend, weren't you?"

"I was Kendra's neighbor when she came to live here after her husband, Percival, was imprisoned for attacking some muggles," said Bagshot slowly, seemingly startled by the abrupt shift in the conversation. "I had known Percival previously, from school."

"And what about Aurora Valenor?" pressed on Orion, regarding her closely. "Did you know her?"

"Aurora? Yes, she was Percival's cousin," replied Bagshot, now nervously squinting at him, as if she was trying to eye him carefully to unravel the secret motives behind the interrogation. "She was a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, like myself. She was my closest friend from my school years. She married Vicente Valenor later-"

"But she was barren," cut in Orion, knowingly grinning at her. "And after Ariana's funeral, she took a baby with her, didn't she? She adopted the baby, who became Hyperion Valenor, who later married a Veela and had Arian Valenor."

"I know nothing of any babies, or of this Hyperion you're mentioning-"

"Oh, come off it, old witch!" snapped Calypso with annoyance, glowering at Bagshot. "If Aurora Valenor was your closest friend -even if you didn't know what happened to Ariana, how she had gotten pregnant, and how she died- surely Aurora told you about the baby she adopted and took to France with her! It's pointless to keep acting as if you were an old witch gone gaga. We know you know!"

Bagshot momentarily looked like a trapped, nervous, little animal, before she fulminated Ragnarok with her squinting eyes, as she wheezed out, "You made me invite them into my home under false pretenses, Ricard. I demand that you take them with you and leave at once."

Ragnarok didn't move an inch or beep a word, and the old witch's nervousness visibly increased, before Orion gently grasped her bony, arthritic hands, and said vehemently, "We only want some answers, Bathilda. Nothing else. Can't you please tell us about Hyperion? About how he died, and about Arian?"

Bagshot squinted at him, her eyes heavy with cataracts then flickering to Calypso and Ragnarok, and back, hesitantly.

"Or we could extract that information from you forcibly," said Calypso warningly. "Orion here is quite good with Legilimency-"

"No!" snapped Orion, shooting her a scowl and a pointed, hard glance. "We'll do this properly. We don't want to make Miss Bagshot our enemy, do we, Scaly?" He gazed back at Bagshot, and said softly, still gently grasping the aged hands in his, "Nothing will be forced out of you. Tell us as much as you're willing to disclose."

Bagshot waveringly stared at him, and then murmured in a quiet, cracked voice, "Why do you want to know about Hyperion Valenor and his son?"

"I'm interested in Arian," said Orion calmly. "I would like to know about his past-"

"To hurt him?" demanded the old witch sharply, the expression on her wrinkled face grave and grim.

"No, of course not," said Orion adamantly, warmly smiling at her. "It's simply that I've made his acquaintance recently and I'm… fascinated by him."

"He has always been such a good, bright, charming boy," murmured Bagshot, eyeing him warily. "I wouldn't want anything bad to befall him again."

"I give you my word as a wizard that none of the things you reveal to us, here, today, will be used to hurt Arian in any way," said Orion firmly, his voice solemn and deeply sincere.

"And you should think, Miss Bagshot," piped in Calypso pointedly, "that your ties to Orion are greater than those to Arian Valenor. Orion is, after all, Gellert's grandson, related to you through your marriage to Pietr, and he's nothing like the dark wizards you seemingly dislike so much." She gently smiled at the old witch. "Orion is Lily Evan's son too, after all. And you greatly cherished her, didn't you? So why wouldn't you help her son by merely answering some questions?"

Bagshot pierced her with squinting eyes, and then glanced back at Orion, sighing as if she was a rubber old doll whose air had been punched out of her. "I maintained my close friendship with Aurora up until the moment she and her husband died of Dragon Pox." She intensely pinned Orion with her eyes heavy with cataracts, and murmured quietly, "Some months after Ariana's funeral, Aurora invited me over to spend my holidays with her, in Valenor Château in a wizarding county at the outskirts of Paris. It became a yearly tradition, and I wasn't surprised to find Aberforth living with the Valenors. Aurora took him to live with her, and offered the same to Albus. But Albus decided to remain in England, to complete his studies, since he had been offered an apprenticeship in Transfiguration and Potions-"

"What about Hyperion?" cut in Orion, closely scrutinizing her.

Bagshot heavily sighed and wheezed out, "Aurora told me the truth about the baby she had adopted. She explained what had happened to little Ariana Dumbledore with those muggles who had…" She trailed off, her expression somber. "Hyperion grew up to be a good man-"

"Powerful?" interrupted Orion, his tone pressing and urgent. "Like his mother?"

"Yes," wheezed out Bagshot, then she slowly shook her head. "But not mentally unstable. He was inordinately powerful, but quite normal, other than that. He became an Unspeakable in the French Department of Mysteries, and he liked to lead a quiet life with his wife and son." She squinted up at Orion. "I saw them often, since through Aurora I was close to the family, and frequently spent my holidays with them after I became a widow. Aurora had always loved Hyperion and Arian as if they were her own son and grandson. And I cared for them deeply as well."

"You speak in the past tense," remarked Orion, frowning at her. "When was the last time you saw Arian?"

"Twelve years ago," replied Bagshot quietly, "when he was thirteen."

Orion's frown deepened, his mind spinning and rushing speedily, and abruptly, his eyes widened, and he breathed out, "The last time you saw him, was it also the last time you saw Hyperion and his wife? Do you know how they died? From what I know, it happened during Arian's school holidays, precisely when he was thirteen-"

"I was there the day before Hyperion and Agatha died," interrupted the old witch slowly, her aged voice cracking. "I was spending my holidays with them when it happened…"

Orion shared a significant glance with Calypso, seeing the expression of anticipation and victory in her face, and he prompted gently, "When what happened?"

"Albus came to visit Hyperion," wheezed out the old woman, nervously eyeing him. "He came accompanied by a muggle man, and Hyperion left Agatha, Arian, and I in the parlor, and he took Albus and the muggle into the study." She shook her head, her expression somber, as she added in a mutter, "We could hear them arguing from the sitting room. Agatha, specially, seemed very unnerved when we heard Hyperion yelling. He sounded angry and troubled." She squinted up at Orion. "Arian was just a little boy of thirteen. One moment he was there with Agatha and me, the next he had left the room. When I went looking for him, I found him listening against the door of the study… his expression…"

The old woman paused, and let out a shaky and wheezy exhalation of breath. "Whatever he overheard from Hyperion's argument with Albus and the muggle man, it shook Arian greatly. Hyperion came back to the sitting room after having asked Albus and the muggle man to leave his home, and I remember clearly how Arian ran to his father and tightly hugged and clutched him. He was crying, he was fearful of something…"

Bagshot trailed off, and then added with a deep sigh, "Due to the tense situation, I decided to leave early, to allow the family some time alone. I came back to England, to my home in Godric's Hollow. The next day, I received the news that there had been an explosion in Valenor Château, and that Hyperion and Agatha had died in it. The French newspapers claimed that Hyperion had been experimenting with something related to his work as an Unspeakable."

She pierced Orion with an intense, squinting gaze. "I never believed it. Hyperion would have never endangered his family by taking his work home. I was told that Arian had survived the explosion, or that he hadn't been in the house when it happened, and I went to Hogwarts to see Albus. I wanted to take Arian to live with me, but Albus had already decided to send him to the Flamels, and I couldn't oppose it since I had no claim of bloodkin to Arian. I never saw him again."

A deep silence seemed to spread in the room the moment the old woman stopped talking, and Orion felt as if his mind was spinning chaotically. He had so many questions, he didn't know where to start.

"A muggle," he finally mumbled slowly, trying to make head or tail from what the old witch had disclosed. He stared at her perplexed. "Who was this muggle man who accompanied Albus?"

"I never knew his name," wheezed out Bagshot, with her aged, cracked voice. Her wrinkled forehead crinkled in deep pensiveness, as if she was trying very hard to remember every detail of the recollection. "I… I remember he was middle-aged and looked prosperous. He was clothed in one of those suits that muggles use when they have some executive or important position of some sort. Given his attire and manners, he appeared to be wealthy and… accustomed to give orders and be obeyed…" She paused, and squinted warily at Orion, looking highly nervous once more. "What caught my attention the most about the muggle was a ring he was wearing, with a crest I had seen before in my studies and research as a historian."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Orion instantly glanced at Calypso, their widened eyes full of suspicion meeting, the same thoughts undoubtedly rushing through their minds. In that shared glance, Orion raised his eyebrows and Calypso gave a tiny, sharp nod.

At once, Calypso plucked out the parchment in which Orion had drawn the symbols that had been carved on the altar in the center of Stonehenge, and she instantly reached Bagshot, laying the parchment on the old woman's lap, pointing at the muggle symbol. "Could the crest you saw in that muggle's ring be the same as this symbol?"

The old woman took the piece of parchment with her arthritic hands, pulling it up to her nose to intensely squint at it. Suddenly, the witch's hands shook and a choked noise issued from her lips, as she stared at Calypso with wide, fearful eyes. "Where have you seen this, girl?"

"Is it the same?!" demanded Calypso urgently, her voice sharp.

"Yes," wheezed out Bagshot, looking highly shaken, troubled, and jittery.

Orion shared with Calypso a triumphant glance filled with elation, and he instantly pointed at the inscription bellow the pyramid of the symbol. "Do you know what these Druidic Runes mean?"

"Yes…" The old woman vacillated, and then closely squinted at him, as she murmured quietly, "Vindico Lumen."

Calypso let out a hoot of victory, and rushed out excitedly, "We have it, Orion! The muggle that Dumbledore took to see Hyperion was a Freemason!"

"A Freemason?" wheezed out Bagshot, wobbling as she got to her feet, her expression thunderous. "Oh, no, girl, don't make the same mistake that many in my profession, muggle and wizard alike, have made before." The old woman started to slowly pace around the room, her gait jittery and jumpy. "The Freemasons have always been a muggle organization solely having for its object the mutual assistance and the promotion of brotherly love among its members. They are pacifist, girl. They are harmless, and their goals are quite mundane and innocent."

She teetered as she slowly turned around to spear them with her squinting eyes. "Alas, they have often been erroneously confused with another group – a sect, I would call them- whose aims are quite different. After I saw that muggle man and after Hyperion and Agatha died, I put all my efforts into researching that crest on the muggle's ring. To know all about it and about the sect it represented-"

"So what are they called, this religious sect?" interrupted Orion impatiently, feeling his heart pumping loudly in his chest.

Bagshot squinted at him with a deep frown on her face. "Who said anything about religion?"

"What do you mean?" snapped Orion, showing her the parchment and pointing at the symbol. "This is a representation of the muggle God-"

"It is not," interjected Bagshot firmly. "Nowadays, the common muggle populace might believe that it's a representation of their Christian God, but it is not. It wasn't originally."

Utterly befuddled, Orion blinked at her. "Then what does it represent?"

"The All-Seeing Eye is Merlin, young man!"

Astounded, Orion's jaw hung agape, disbelief and uncertainty sweeping over him, and he could see the same in Calypso's flabbergasted expression.

"I don't understand," he said slowly, repeatedly shaking his head. "How can Merlin be the… er, All-Seeing Eye? And why would a group of muggles represent Merlin in a symbol-"

"There is some slight evidence, facts and historical records, that point towards a special ability Merlin uniquely possessed," interrupted Bagshot, momentarily letting out a wheezy cough, before she continued in her cracked voice. "There is a small group of us, light historians, who believe it. We believe that Merlin could, as a manner of speaking, See into the past, yet he was no Seer, since he was male. We believe that what he could do was similar to Metempsychosis-"

"Hang on," said Orion sharply, holding up a hand as he frowned at her, pinning her with a quizzical gaze. "In general terms, Metempsychosis refers to the transmigration of the soul, especially its reincarnation after death. But in the wizarding world, it's a term specifically used by Necromancers, as a name to one of their abilities – that to travel with only their souls – what muggles call 'astral projection' even though they certainly delude themselves when they imagine that they have done it. It's uniquely a Necromantic ability, and it's very hard to master, as far as I know. So how could Merlin be a Metempsychos, when he was a light wizard and thus, certainly didn't have any Necromantic ability?"

"I said 'similar' to Metempsychosis," interjected Bagshot pointedly. "We think he couldn't travel with his soul, but with his mind. A time-traveler of sorts, since he could channel his mind's awareness into the past. We termed this ability post-cognitry, and thus, Merlin, the first and only known post-cognitor in history."

"Morgana's wand," gasped out Calypso, her eyes wide. "Arian must be a post-cognitor, Orion!"

Orion jerkily nodded at her, feeling as if the floor had been yanked from under his feet, and he did a monumental effort to gather back his wits and order his mind into some coherence.

He piercingly stared at the old historian, and said slowly, "So Merlin was represented as an All-Seeing Eye, because he could see everything in the past. But who created that symbol?" He searchingly gazed at her with deep intensity. "Muggles? Why? How could it be-"

"Muggles and light wizards, both," interjected Bagshot firmly. "It is known that Merlin had a large following during his lifetime. He was accepted by muggles and revered by many of them. It is believed that he formed a group of these followers, taught them and instructed them regarding his aims and goals for the muggle world. Presumably, Merlin had always believed in the union of the muggle and magical world, coexisting together pacifically, if not in complete fusion. That was one of his highest aims."

"So, back then," said Orion pensively, a deep frown on his forehead, "these muggles and light wizards created that symbol to represent themselves as followers of Merlin."

Bagshot nodded at him, and he demanded sternly, "What are they called?"

"The Illuminati," said the old woman with a wheeze. "In Latin, it means-"

"The Enlightened," muttered Orion, his mind spinning while he felt a headache looming in the distance.

Several sounds came at once, and startled, Orion glanced at Calypso, who seemed to be choking on something, while Ragnarok looked quite pale and discomposed, a wheezy cough erupting from his dry lips.

"What's the matter with you?" said Orion, glancing at them with puzzlement.

Calypso wildly stared at him, and said in a high-pitch, "I've read about them too! In one of the muggle books about religion – but it said nothing about Merlin, obviously, and there are also many weird conspiracy theories about them. The book said that famous and renowned muggles were part of that sect during the ages, muggles like Copernicus, Da Vinci, and…" She waved a hand with frustration. "Oh… I can't remember all the muggle names…"

"That is quite correct, girl," interjected Bagshot, squinting at Calypso with a slight expression of respect. "Many muggles who made great discoveries and advances have been secretly part of the Illuminati. Others, are presumably muggles with positions of political power or economic influence. And since the sect is also composed of a select group of light wizards, all of the muggle members of the Illuminati know about the magical world, and Magic in general. It is possible that it was due to their knowledge of the existence of Magic, that some muggles of that group were able to advance in their fields of study and make significant discoveries for the muggle world-"

"How is it that we've never heard of this?" demanded Orion crisply, feeling ill at the mere idea of a bunch of muggles going around knowing about Magic and his world.

Bagshot's bald eyebrows shot to her hairline. "They are a secret organization, Harry. I thought that was evident."

"Yes, but…" He frowned, jerkily carding his fingers through his hair. "But if they have known about Magic all this time, they could have done much more. They could have…" He blinked at her, and then said slowly, "Oh, right. They can't openly incorporate their knowledge of Magic into their research, studies, or whatever, because they want to keep it a secret, then?"

"Not forever," said Bagshot matter-of-factly. "I believe that the moment they come close to attaining their aim, they will reveal to the muggle world what they know."

"But, the muggle book I read, said that they haven't existed for ages," interjected Calypso, staring at the old historian with a frown. "That they were wiped out by other muggles, many centuries ago-"

"It wasn't done by muggles," said Ragnarok sternly, his spectacled gaze fixed on Bagshot. "It was done by our kind. Bathilda, are you certain that the muggle you saw with Albus Dumbledore was wearing a ring with the Illuminati crest?"

"Yes, Ricard," wheezed out the old historian, piercing him with the same intensity with her squinting eyes.

"I thought they were gone," muttered Ragnarok, looking very troubled.

"Do you mean to tell me that you knew about them?!" snapped Orion angrily, darkly glowering at him. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It didn't cross my mind that the movement still endured," said Ragnarok distressed. "I thought they had all been eliminated centuries ago by the…"

He trailed off, glancing uncertainly at Bagshot, whose lips thinned, as she wheezed out sharply, looking as if she had been deeply betrayed, "By the Aux Atrum. Ricard, you are one."

It happened so abruptly that Orion barely knew what had occurred. The old woman had made some slow and shaky attempt to pluck out her wand from her nightgown's pocket, and then Ragnarok was right there, clutching her frail wrists, towering over her as they both stood by the window of the sitting room.

"I am no threat to you, Bathilda," said Ragnarok sternly, still grasping her wrists, gently pulling them down. "My task is to protect you and the knowledge you posses."

"I see… to protect me from situations like the one with the Skeeter woman?" wheezed out Bagshot, closely squinting at him, her gaze searching. "And from You-Know-Who, if it comes to it?"

"That is a possibility," said Ragnarok with a stiff nod, shooting a brief glance at Orion. "We cannot allow him to glean any information from you, Bathilda. You know too much. You have discovered too much throughout your life."

Bathilda's wrinkled lips twisted in a grimace of dissatisfaction. "So my life is in your hands, Ricard. I'm forced to rely on the Aux Atrum, who I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw them."

Ragnarok didn't comment on that, and Orion couldn't repress his multitude of questions anymore. "So the Aux thought they had wiped out the Illuminati centuries ago, and it isn't true since Albus was with one of them about a decade ago?"

His old childhood tutor curtly nodded at him, and Orion turned to zero in his gaze on Bagshot, as he demanded sharply, "I think the most important question right now is what's the Illuminati's aim. Is it the same as Merlin's was – to unite the muggle and wizarding world? Or -"

"I think," interrupted the old woman quietly, "that their main goal has evolved in time. I have reason to believe, that nowadays, their slogan is Magic for All-"

"GET DOWN!"

It was utter chaos and confusion and Orion didn't quite know what happened. Calypso let out the warning shriek and violently pushed him to the ground, several loud banging noises filled the sitting room, glass shards from the broken window were scattered everywhere, and he found himself pressed flat against the floor by Calypso, while he saw Ragnarok looking utterly startled and alarmed, crouching in a small ball at the nearest corner. When his gaze finally found Bagshot, she was lying on the floor on her back, without moving an inch or twitching, surrounded by an enlarging pool of blood. There was a small black hole in the middle of her forehead from where blood kept pouring out, and an expression of shock was frozen on her wrinkled face, her toothless mouth parted open.

"SHE'S DEAD! What the hell happened?!" bellowed Orion, struggling to get to his feet as more things started breaking all around him, furniture cracking and splintering, the loud noises booming in his ringing ears, accompanied by some muffled ones, as if bird peaks were embedding themselves on the wall, from the outside.

Calypso instantly yanked him back to the floor, her eyes wide and frantic. "Gunshots, Orion! I saw the thing… Oh, what's it called?…. Ah, the beam of infrared light – it appeared on Bagshot's head for a second, and then, bam!" She frenziedly shook his arm, looking crazed with alarm and urgency. "Someone's shooting at us… I think it's one of those muggle… um, snipers! Yes, that's it!"

"WHAT?!" spluttered Orion incredulously, instantly covering her head, which lay flat on the ground besides his own, when another banging sound made more shards of glass rain on them. "Then what can we use against bullets?!"

"I don't know!" cried Calypso frantically, staring at him fearfully.

"Think, Scaly. You've researched into this!"

"But I haven't had the time to come up with any spells or create them!" she shrieked stressfully. "I don't know… I…" She shot him a wild look, and her eyes widened as she gasped out, "Steel – three inches at least, I think!"

Orion glanced at her as if she had gone soft in the head. "I don't know any bloody spell that could conjure a wall of steel, Scaly! So where the bloody hell am I supposed to get steel from?!"

"I don't know, but we must do something or we'll be killed!"

Orion briefly frowned, and then snapped sharply, "I have an idea - it might work. Don't move!"

"What?! But don't put yourself in danger-"

The rest of her frantic yell was lost with the mesh of the other loud banging noises resounding all around them, and Orion started to drag himself across the floor, using his elbows, and biting his lips when glass shards inevitably sunk and ripped into his forearms. Now he could clearly catch glimpses of a tiny beam of infrared light flickering around the room, searchingly, as more bullets flew in from the window.

The moment he reached the wall from which the destroyed window was hanging from, he laid his head flat on the floor and slapped his two hands on the ground. He tightly pressed his palms on the floor and concentrated hard on doing what Gellert had once taught him to do, and made him repeat often enough until he learned how to succeed in it.

Orion felt his raw dark magic swirling violently inside him, inflating and rapidly burgeoning, as it started to flow out from his palms, sinking into the floor and the earth below. With beads of sweat and a deep frown of concentration and effort on his forehead, he started to make his magic shift under the ground, cracking and rumbling noises soon coming from underneath him. He pictured clearly what he wanted, and felt as the minerals of the earth below him were fusing together and amalgamating into a mass. And then, he let out an exhalation of panted breath, when a mass of rock and fused blocks of iron and other light metals common in earth, broke through the stone floor of the sitting room, shooting upwards like huge monoliths.

Yet, he didn't remove his hands from the cracked floor and shifting ground. He kept pushing his raw dark magic into it, making it mold the mass of rock and metals until it formed an expanding, thick slate over the whole wall. Only when the broken window was the only thing it didn't cover, and when he heard the muffled sounds of bullets being stopped, embedded in the thick wall of rock and metal he had created, did he sigh with relief.

Crouching on his knees, he quickly shuffled forwards until he reached Calypso's side, who was still lying awkwardly on the floor, staring at him with wild, wide eyes.

"You can stand up now," he muttered with a grimace, as he started picking out glass shards from his bloodied forearms. "It's safe, but don't go near the window. Bullets entering through there can still hit us."

Calypso quickly nodded at him in understanding, and slowly stood up, taking care of being well out of sight through the glassless window. "Why didn't you cover it as well?"

"You'll see," said Orion grimly, his gaze instantly landing on Ragnarok, who had remained crouched in his corner. He beckoned him to them, as he raised his voice to say loudly, "I need a bait, Ragnarok. Are you up to it?"

The old tutor shot him a glance, and then his spectacle gaze landed on Bagshot's body, understanding dawning on him as he glanced back at Orion, curtly nodding.

Orion tensely smiled at him with satisfaction. This was what Calypso had failed to recognize before. That no matter how many nosy and demanding questions Ragnarok had made, the important point was that by the simple fact of letting them inside his home and agreeing to take them to Bagshot, the old wizard had clearly sided with him, already acting as a committed follower. He knew very well that Komorov had ordered all the Aux to not help him in any way until he became the VA, but many had already disobeyed: first Sebastien Valois, then Trelawney, and now, undoubtedly, Ragnarok, who was about to risk his life.

"What are you planning?" whispered Calypso by his side, her face paling with worry. "Surely you don't mean to go after the sniper, Orion! It's madness-"

"You'll do as I say, Scaly, I don't have time to argue!" snapped Orion briskly, piercing her with a hard gaze. "The moment you see that beam of infrared light reaching Ragnarok, I want you to cast a spell to push the wizard to safety – right to this corner will do, or anywhere far from the window. Got it?"

Calypso, if possible, looked more worried than before, and she certainly seemed to have a lot she wanted to say. But she clenched her jaw and mutely nodded at him, wand in hand.

And without another hitch of breath, Orion whipped out his own wand and cast the parsel-invisibility spell on himself. As he moved towards a side of the destroyed window, its frame filled with small gunshot holes, he saw Ragnarok standing in the middle of the room, right in the line of fire from the window, doing as if he was checking Bagshot for a pulse.

He forced himself to not worry about the old man, trusting Calypso do to her part, and he slightly peeked out his face to see through the glassless window. Then, he saw it: a brief flash of the infrared light, as it moved in the air, coming from a darkened window in the second floor of a house at the other side of the street. The house looked empty, as if its wizarding family had left for their summer holidays, and there was no doubt that the sniper had been using it in the meanwhile to have a clear sight of Bagshot's house.

Orion saw the tiny beam of infrared light briefly flashing once more, coming from the same window, and he didn't think about it twice. He swiftly transformed into Firebreath, his wyvern animagus form, and shot out of the window, in the precise moment that he felt a bullet wheezing past him, undoubtedly intended for Ragnarok.

He vigorously flapped his dragon-like wings, soaring through the air, and made a direct dive through the window in the second floor of the house ahead. As he crashed through the window, he carefully lowered his inner eyelids over his basilisk-like yellow eyes, since he didn't want to kill the attacker with a mere gaze, but interrogate him. He impacted on something, hard, there was a bellow of pain and a thumping sound, and he then landed on wooden floors, his claws screeching against it as he halted.

In the bat of an eyelash, Orion transformed back, cancelled his parsel-invisibility spell, and aimed his wand forward into the darkness of the room. "Lumos!"

He yelped in startlement when a bullet sizzled past him, and he instinctually rolled on the floor to a side, but he had caught a clear glimpse of his attacker and the room. And what he had seen perplexed him. There were headphones, some sort of small screen, and other muggle equipment just below the window, which had a sniper riffle perched on one of its corner, propped by some sort of short tripod. It was the undoubtedly electronic equipment and spying devices which baffled him the most, since they were presumably working, and in a wizarding town infused with magic, and everyone knew that no muggle electronic devices could work in such setting.

Furthermore, the man who had just shot at him looked as if he had sprung out from one of the action-packed and mindless movies that Dudley used to enjoy so much. He was covered from head to toes in black clothes, with combat boots, and with a belt seemingly filled with ammunition – he was a muggle, one who looked like a military soldier, and clearly ready for battle.

The man was grasping his side with one arm – it seemed he had broken some of the muggle's ribs when he had crashed into him in his animagus form- but still held a gun with his other hand, and it was directly aimed at him.

"Who are you? Who do you work for?" spat Orion, for his part aiming his wand at the man. At the muggle's silence and impassible, curt and weathered face, where not a muscle twitched, he added sharply, "Do you know what I can do with a wand?"

The man snorted snidely, and said gruffly in a clearly English-accented voice, "Do you know what my gun can do to you? One bullet through your head and you're history, mate."

Orion's eyes narrowed to slits. "Do you know who I am?" The muggle shot him a nasty smirk but kept silent, and he added shortly, "Is your… mission to kill me?"

The muggle still didn't say anything, just eyed him mockingly and with sheer jeering arrogance, but remained with his gun directly aimed at Orion's forehead, yet didn't move an inch, displaying nerves of steel.

"So what's this? A stalemate?" bit out Orion impatiently, gripping tighter the wand he was aiming forward, his muscles tensing in preparation for anything. "Either you start answering questions, or we fight, or-"

Just in time, he dived to a side when another gunshot flared from the man's gun, the bullet strangely misaimed embedding itself in a wall, and then the muggle was rushing past him.

Orion cursed under his breath and instantly gave chase. It soon became clear that if he had the advantage of vampiric speed, the muggle had the advantage of knowing the house well. The man flew down stairways, took abrupt turns around corners, and crossed many doors, leaving Orion with nothing better he could do except to follow his tracks without losing him from sight.

Suddenly, they were out through the front door and the muggle was pelting down the deserted street, firing several gunshots over his shoulder as he ran, all of which were shot rather sloppily – intentionally, Orion would think- since none even got close to hitting him.

The muggle had taken the street which headed towards the cemetery, and as he ran after the man, Orion started to seriously re-evaluate what he should do. The gunshots must have been heard by the people sleeping in the houses in the area, they could be peeking out from windows already, and they would be undoubtedly floo-calling the Auror Department in the next second. So he could either kill the man and be done with it, though he would lose his source of information. Or he could-

The decision was made the moment the man crossed the gates of the cemetery, apparently heading to some specific location within it.

Orion aimed his wand at the man's back, and bellowed, "Flameo!"

A bolt of fire shot forward and struck the man's shoulder blades. The muggle stumbled but didn't even scream, and was back on his feet the next second, rushing around gravestones, his back smoking and ablaze in flames. With one hand, the muggle tried to put down the flames on his back, but he kept running and shooting over his shoulder with his other hand.

Suddenly, something struck Orion which made him cry out in pain and startlement, and he stumbled in his steps as he clutched his stomach, glancing down at it. He could hardly believe it; he had been wounded, when he had thought that the muggle had been purposely misaiming.

There was a small hole in his stomach, copious blood oozing from it, and it hurt like nothing ever had. Cruciatus Curses made him twist in pain and fried his nerves, but this caused a gut-wrenching pain, as if the acids of his stomach were leaking through a hole and eating out his flesh from the inside. It burned, sizzled, and felt agonizing.

With tears in his eyes, he glanced up and saw the muggle far ahead of him, and without a second thought he aimed his wand at him and roared irately, "CRUCIO! Expelliarmus!"

The two beams of light instantly hit the muggle, and the air was soon filled with screams of excruciating pain, as the man writhed and convulsed near some graves, and as the gun shot out from the man's hand and flew into Orion's direction. But Orion didn't attempt to catch it, he simply let it fall to the ground.

He could barely walk without feeling as if his guts were about to spill out from the small hole in his stomach. Finally, he tightly gritted his teeth, and quickly pocketed his wand to have his right hand free, since he had the other tightly pressed against his wound.

Shooting his free hand forward, he put all his effort into summoning his raw dark magic from his inner magical core, making it spill out of his palm in floods of icy water. Soon, he had the muggle surrounded by a wall of water which he instantly forced to start condensing into a prison of thick ice.

Once done, he slowly dragged himself forward to reach the man. Suddenly, an alarmed shriek seemed to boom out from the dark skies, and Orion glanced up, almost toppling over in his startlement.

Hovering a few feet above him, he saw Calypso's pale and worried face peeking over the edge of her magic carpet, and in a few seconds, it floated to the ground. Ragnarok sprung from it, Calypso wobbling and slowly climbing down after the old wizard. Feeling quite light-headed, Orion merely dizzily stared at them, and Calypso was by his side in the next bat of the eyelash.

"You're wounded!" she cried frantically, instantly waving her wand at him and vanishing his torn vampire clothes from his torso. She gasped, bringing a hand over her mouth. "It's a gunshot to the stomach, Orion. I've read that they're the worst, and the most dangerous-"

"Scaly," groaned Orion, pressing his hand tightly against the wound, "just help me reach the muggle."

"You're bleeding to death, you idiot – just look at you!" snapped Calypso. She gazed at him with round eyes, and added worriedly, "Why aren't you healing? You have Lez's blood-"

"It didn't go through. The bullet's still inside," he croaked out, needing to support himself on a nearby tombstone. "I don't think I can properly heal until it's taken out-"

"I've read that muggle doctors pull out bullets with some sort of pliers," she rushed out worriedly, biting on her lower lip as she fretfully glanced up at him. "I could conjure a small pincer and try to take it out-"

"Are you mad?!" Orion hissed under his breath, looking at her incredulously. "I wouldn't trust you to know what to do with one - just use a Summoning Charm."

Calypso stared at him, dismayed. "If I Accio the bullet it would tear through you to get out-"

"I'll heal," bit out Orion impatiently, doing his best to shoot her a dark scowl. "Just do it!"

"Well, don't shout at me when it hurts," snapped Calypso with a huff, and in the next second she aimed her wand at him. "Accio bullet!"

For a moment, agonizing pain seemed to crash in rolling waves all over his body, and Orion had to bite his tongue until it bled to not let out a scream. A second later, he was left with a burning pain sizzling through his midsection, but he felt as if he could breathe better, and he shot her a grateful glance.

"The muggle," he said slowly, taking a step forward, before he teetered to a side. Thankfully, Ragnarok caught him just in time, throwing an arm around Orion's waist to help him stand straight. "Oh, I still feel a bit dizzy-"

"No wonder, you've lost a lot of blood," murmured Calypso, eyeing his stomach concernedly. "But it seems to be healing now."

"The muggle," repeated Orion more firmly, and he didn't have to say it a third time before Ragnarok helped him reach the ice prison surrounding the man.

Seeing some cracks in it, Orion blinked, since it seemed that the muggle had been throwing himself at it from the inside, undoubtedly since the moment Orion had lost his concentration in maintaining the Cruciatus Curse on the man. But now, he could see the blurry image of the muggle through the thick ice, and he seemed to be laying down on the ground.

Calypso gasped by his side, and said urgently, "Bring it down – quick!"

Without needing to be told twice, Orion slashed his wand at it, and the round wall of thick ice came crumbling down to the ground. His eyes grew wide when he saw the state of the muggle: he was lying on his back, his limbs slightly jerking, and some froth bubbled from his lips.

Calypso was wrenching the man's mouth open in the next second, her nose scrunching as she closely peered inside it. Then she glanced up at Orion, her eyes large and apprehensive. "He's dead. I think he used potassium cyanide – it smells just like how it was described. According to some muggle books, the… um... what was their name?… ah, yes, the Nazis carried pills of cyanide and used it when they wanted to kill themselves instead of getting captured alive."

"You seem to have read a lot that's useful. I'll start reading your notes, Scaly. You've convinced me," muttered Orion wryly, as he crouched by the side of the muggle's body. He groaned with deep disappointment. "Now we'll never find out who he was working for-"

"We still might," interjected Ragnarok sharply, a weird expression on his face which Orion couldn't quite decipher. Abruptly, the old wizard leapt forward and tore open the muggle's black shirt. He took a step back, his face contorting with hatred and deep aversion, as he snarled, "Illuminati."

Feeling out of his breath, Orion fixedly stared at the dead muggle's chest. The whole expanse of it bore the Illuminati symbol, and it looked as if it had been carved into the man's flesh. Though, he noticed, frowning, that it didn't contain the Druidic Runes.

Suddenly, the mark flashed and glowed in an intense white, and Ragnarok roared, "Stand away – I've heard about this!"

Without a second thought, Orion lunged himself at Calypso, knocking her backwards, just when everything flashed white and orange in his vision. Panting labouredly, he glanced back at the body, seeing it consumed in a great pyre of flames.

"They leave no evidence behind," muttered Ragnarok darkly, a hard expression on his wrinkled face as he stared down at the corpse being rapidly eaten by fire.

In the bat of an eyelash, Orion was back on his feet, gazing at the old tutor intensely. "That was a magical brand on the muggle - it did that!"

Ragnarok stiffly nodded, and then glanced back towards the gates of the cemetery and the street beyond. He snapped his head around to pierce Orion with his spectacled gaze. "Aurors will be arriving in any second. You must leave-"

"But Bagshot's body, and-"

"I will take care of it," interrupted Ragnarok curtly. "I'll make it look as if she died of old age-"

"Fine," said Orion urgently, "but the muggle had some electronic equipment in the room he was using. It was on the second floor of the house across from Bagshot's-"

"Oh, Ragnarok found something too!" interjected Calypso eagerly. "He Accioed-"

"You can tell him about that later, Miss Rosier," cut in Ragnarok sharply, leveling a hard gaze at them. "Now, you must leave. I'll deal with everything."

Calypso instantly nodded at him, while Orion frowned as he said pressingly, "But we could help-"

All further words were lost when he was abruptly clutched and immediately felt himself being plunged into a whirlwind of colors and a rushing of space, thrown into a side-along apparition.

* * *

Abruptly, Orion landed on lawn, utterly disoriented and dizzied, and groaning when he tripped and landed face-first on grass.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you alright?" came a concerned voice over him.

Orion rolled to his side, and glowered up at Calypso. "Bloody hell, Scaly. Why on earth did you do that? We left Ragnarok alone-"

"He can manage," she snapped crisply, squaring her shoulders. "He's an Aux. That's what he's there for, and unlike you, he's not in the Aurors' Most Wanted List."

Orion shot her a scowl, but in the end he deeply sighed and didn't even make any attempt to get up. He simply glanced around his new surroundings and instantly recognized the vast gardens with burgeoning flowers as those of Potter Manor's. And he even saw some light coming from the Manor in the distance, its back facing them, since the vast gardens they were in formed the 'backyard' of the estate.

Further relaxing, he plopped down on the ground, lying on his back, feeling tired and exhausted. And he closed his eyes, as his mind spun with everything that had happened.

"Are you well? Does it still hurt?" said Calypso, standing over him and peering worriedly at his bare stomach.

Suddenly, his eyes flew wide open when a flare of pain shot through his midsection, and he instantly caught sight of Calypso's incriminating finger near his stomach. He glowered at her and immediately wrapped a protective arm around his waist. "Don't poke it, Scaly - It hurts!"

"Well, you weren't answering," she said simply, slowly taking a seat by his side, crossing her legs. Her expression brightened, and she plucked out something black and tiny from her robes' pocket, handing it to him. "This is one of the many that Ragnarok found in Bagshot's house."

Orion blinked at her, before he grasped it and peered at it. He had to bring it close to his nose to make out what it was, so small it's size.

"He simply said 'Accio microphones!' and they come out from every place imaginable, Orion. Amazing, isn't it? The people who placed them didn't ward them against a simple summoning charm. I don't think they imagined anyone would suspect," rambled Calypso excitedly. "Muggles call them 'bugs', don't they?"

"Yeah," muttered Orion, frowning at the tiny device. He then shot her a quizzical glance. "But what on earth are you so happy about?"

"The micro things were working in a magical town," said Calypso pointedly. "And you said that the sniper also had electronic equipment. They've found a way of making their things work in places with magic! I say that's an important discovery from our part." She snatched the tiny microphone back, swiftly pocketing it. "We'll have to get someone to examine it to tell us how it can work while being around magic."

Orion grimly regarded her. "That's all very well, Scaly, but Bagshot has just been killed - in front of our noses."

"Yes, I was there," she interjected with annoyance. "But surely you can't expect me to mourn her. We didn't know her before tonight!"

"True," said Orion shortly, "but I simply can't find anything to be cheerful about, even if now we know so much more."

"Ah, you're in a foul mood because I was right and you were wrong," piped in Calypso, knowingly looking at him. "Like I warned you, it was a trap set by Arian-"

Orion shot up to sit with crossed legs, as he snapped sharply, "How so? I would say it's the opposite. It was favor - an opening of the eyes for me." He held up a hand, ticking off his fingers as he continued briskly, "He glanced in Stonehenge's direction so that I would find it and see the VL symbol – which is, quite clearly, the Illuminati symbol with the addition of the Druidic Runes. He also pointed me towards Bagshot's direction, correctly expecting me to ask her about him and the symbol. And thanks to all that, we know now about the Illuminati's existence. And Ragnarok will report it back to Komorov, and they'll know that against their expectations, the Illuminati are still operating. The Kraljica Mati never breathed a word to me about the Illuminati, and considering that they were founded in Merlin's times, it indicates that she didn't mention them because she didn't think they still existed. And if the Aux believed the same, then Morgana's spirit didn't know either."

"Well, no one has ever claimed that Morgana or the Lady of the Lake are infallible or omniscient," remarked Calypso matter-of-factly, then frowning at him. "But I still don't see why you don't think it was Arian's trap. That sniper could have killed you! He was waiting for you to show up at Bagshot's-"

"No, he wasn't," interrupted Orion sternly. "The muggle could have attempted to seriously kill me many times. He didn't. He fled from me and shot at me over his shoulder. He didn't stay put and rain on me a shower of bullets until one blew my brains out."

He intensely pierced her with his eyes, and added adamantly, "He was there to kill Bagshot. That's evident, given the microphones he had installed and the spying equipment he had with him. But he didn't kill her in time, did he? He should have killed her the moment he heard her, through the microphones, start telling us about the Illuminati. So he was either asleep or distracted before he realized we were there, and when he reacted, Bagshot had already told us much. He hadn't been warned that someone could pop in to interrogate Bagshot about the symbol, Scaly – Arian didn't tell him!"

"But Arian has to be their leader!" said Calypso insistently. "Just like you said, his symbol is the Illuminati's plus the Druidic Runes spelling Vindico Lumen. So he must be-"

"I don't doubt that he has everything to do with them," interjected Orion firmly, "but I don't think he's their leader. I assume that their organization is similar to the Aux's. So they must have a leader, like Komorov is to the Aux Atrum, and a… overlord or master, like I will be once I become the VA. That's what I think Arian is to them - a master to follow, someone whom they expect to lead them into attaining their goals. And for even more reason if what we suspect is correct, and he's Merlin's descendant." He paused, and frowned as he added quietly, "But I think there's some contention in his ranks. I mean, I wouldn't tell Arian about the Aux if he didn't know about them. But he did want me to know about the Illuminati. Why?"

Calypso considered him with a grave and pensive expression on her face, and said slowly, "You think he wanted to warn you about them?"

"Exactly," said Orion with satisfaction. "I think that while their goals could be the same –that of uniting the muggle and wizarding world- they have differing opinions about how it should be accomplished. Do you see Arian ordering the assassination of Bathilda, when she had known him during his childhood, and had been close friends with Aurora, who he must have regarded as his grandmother? Can you imagine him feeling true loyalty to a group of followers whose one of its members went with Albus to visit his father, and which ended in the death of his parents the very next day?"

"You believe the Illuminati killed Hyperion because he refused that man?" interjected Calypso with a musing frown. "Because he refused to become a member?"

"I think they're the main suspects, don't you?" said Orion impassively. "As for the reason… it could be several. One, they wanted him because he was an Unspeakable –just the type of profession I would choose my members to have if I was recruiting. Two, he could have had something they wanted, like perhaps Excalibur, whatever it is. And lastly, the one I think it's most probable, given that Bagshot said he was as powerful as Ariana had been – they wanted him to step up as the Vindico Lumen. They wanted him to search for Excalibur, if he hadn't yet, to take it to Stonehenge, used it to gain access to Gauis' Isle, and thus undergo whatever the VL's Ultimate Test involves. So that he would become the Vindico Lumen they must have been waiting for."

"And Hyperion refused because he wasn't interested in power," breathed out Calypso, her eyes widening as she fixedly stared at him. "You could be right. Bagshot said he simply liked to live a quiet life with his family. Perhaps he wasn't interested in becoming the VL, because it would force him to be the leader of light wizards and he would be involved in wars. It would have put his family in danger. Therefore, he refused, he was killed along with his wife, and Dumbledore took Arian to the Flamels to be taught, brought up, and molded as the perfect light wizard who would become the VL. No wonder Arian despises Dumbledore so much!"

"Quite, but don't forget that in the end, Arian became the Vindico Lumen willingly. It couldn't have been forced on him." Orion regarded her musingly, and added quietly, "And I don't think Dumbledore knew, or in any way plotted for the Valenors to be murdered. I don't see that old man allowing his own nephew to be killed. He doesn't go to such lengths."

"But if Arian isn't working with the Illuminati, or at least not with all its possible factions," said Calypso apprehensively, "then what is he warning you about regarding them? It has to be tied to their differing opinions of how to attain their common goal."

"I think you've hit the mark when you've said 'factions'," interjected Orion ponderingly. "The sniper's mark was simply the Illuminati's symbol, clearly cast by a light wizard, since it was magical. So I think those branded with that symbol could be a faction - a kind of Illuminati extremists, since the symbol only has the All-Seeing Eye representing Merlin, but not the Druidic Runes representing the VL as well. And the other faction, those who share Arian's views, would be Illuminati members marked by Arian himself, bearing the full mark, including the Druidic Runes. I think it would make sense. And I believe that Arian wants me to be on guard regarding the Illuminati extremists."

Calypso slowly nodded at him, taking all his theories in, and then said warily, "But still, the problem is that we don't exactly know how they differ. What do the Illuminati extremists, as you call them, want, if not to kill you since you can become the VA? Why didn't the sniper try to kill you?"

"Bagshot answered that question for us," interjected Orion, pointedly staring at her. "Her last words were that the Illuminati's present slogan is 'Magic for All'."

"You're thinking about Snape!" she gasped out, staring at him with wide eyes, her countenance paling.

"Of course," said Orion calmly. "If I was stupidly blinded and didn't realize the catastrophic consequences of uniting both worlds, if I was a fervent zealot who wanted to accomplish Merlin's aim at all costs, and then I received the news of the discovery made by scientists about genes and how to manipulate them, then what better way to fuse the muggle and wizarding world than to give muggles magical abilities through gene alteration? 'Magic for All', and the goal would be attained. And what better way to start, than to influence a renowned Potions Master who already had reasons of his own to be interested in genetics? And what better way to do that than to cast an enchantment in Le Monde Magique, a newspaper Snape weekly receives by owl from France, which is predominantly a light country and thus could be brimming with Illuminati?"

"You're speaking about a spell interwoven in ink or parchment, Orion," interjected Calypso, looking deeply troubled. "Those are very hard to create and complex to cast. We don't even know how to do it – it's apprenticeship level."

"It's something a light Unspeakable could easily do, I'm sure," said Orion coolly. "And it has to have been through that issue of Le Monde Magique. Even though I didn't feel any magic from it when I touched and read it, I hope there's some residue of the enchantment left. I could make Dobby covertly pop in Spinner's End. He's keyed into the wards since I often use him to reach Snape. He could get in, find the newspaper, and take it to Komorov. He's a Curse Breaker, he could discover what spell was used and how to cancel it."

Calypso eyed him with a deep pensive frown. "Maybe you shouldn't. If you break the spell on Snape, they'll know you've discovered it and their intentions." She shook her head, and added adamantly, "Besides, even if he's being influenced by a spell, nothing of what Snape wants to do poses a threat-"

"Scaly, don't you see it?" snapped Orion impatiently. "Snape is someone close to me. You asked why that sniper didn't have orders to kill me if he happened to see me around? You asked what Arian's trying to warn me about? If you wanted to give magic to muggles through genetic manipulation, whose genes would you need to analyze and play around with? Muggleborns', for one, but also that of powerful wizards like Arian, myself, and possibly even Voldemort! Because the three of us have powerful magical abilities that no others have."

"They intend to capture you?!"

Orion let out an exasperated groan. "I don't know. That would be a bit drastic. They only need a blood sample from me. Well, access to continued blood samples from me, I would think. And that's exactly what Snape would ask of me if I allow him to go on with what he wants to do. That's why I think they've cast a spell on him, because it wouldn't be strange or suspicious for him to ask me for my blood, to use it to test Slytherin's experiments while using genetics methods."

"We're basing our suspicions in a lot of 'ifs'," murmured Calypso, nibbling on her lower lip. "But it's all we have, isn't it?" She glanced at him worriedly. "What will you do?"

"I'll think about the Snape problem a bit more. You might have a good point too... that perhaps I shouldn't break the spell and just see what happened," replied Orion with a pensive frown. Then his expression relaxed, and he added impassively, "As for the Illuminati, I will do nothing except inform Voldemort about them. Of course, without mentioning anything about Vindicos, Aux Atrum, and certainly not Ragnarok." He grinned at her. "I'll tell him a half-truth, like always. But other than that, even if Voldemort can put some of his Death Eaters to use to find out the names of some Illuminati, I think the best tactic is to wait and see what they do. They will pop up sooner or later, when they come to play more openly."

"And you should demand from Arian that he does something about his extremists," interjected Calypso sharply, a scowl on her face. "It should be his problem, not yours. They are a faction of wayward followers who he should rein in and control. And if he's incapable of that simple task, then he should kill them and be done with it."

"I'll be sure to say that to him the next time I see him," said Orion with amusement.

She eyed him closely, her expression a bit perplexed. "You're not troubled at all. How can you be so calm?"

"Scaly, so many things have recently been disclosed to me that I'm hardly capable of feeling surprise at anything, anymore," he said with a roll of his eyes. He scoffed, and added wryly, "And I'm still hung on the whole 'I-was-Mordred' thing. Believe me, after that, the rest pales in comparison."

She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head, and then took the hand Orion offered to her as he stood up.

"Well, I think I should head back to Zraven Citadel, and you to your bed," he said pointedly. "We have the meeting tomorrow. Do you remember at what time you have to take the Elite to Malfoy Manor?"

Calypso nodded at him, and he wearily carded his fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh. "I hope it goes well. But having purebloods, vampires, and werewolves in one same room is asking for trouble."

"They all know how important the alliances are to win the war," piped in Calypso unconcernedly, her lips then quirking upwards. "Everyone will behave, you'll see."

Orion shot Potter Manor one last glance, about to apparate to Zraven Citadel, but he paused when he distinguished which windows still had light coming from them. One he knew to be of Titania's bedroom, but the second, the one through which he could vaguely see a shadow pacing inside, was Draco's. Something coiled and clenched inside him, and he hesitated as he fixedly stared at the figure.

"Do you want to know how Draco has been faring?" murmured Calypso quietly by his side, her gaze having followed his.

Orion snapped his face around to stare at her, and then said coolly, "I want you to tell Draco about the stuff I learned during my second and last visit to the Kraljica Mati. You know, what I told you today before we went to Stonehenge." He paused, and then added firmly, "Tell him about Stonehenge and the Illuminati too. I'll be telling Lez."

"Alright, I will," she said, with a wave of her hand. "Now answer my question."

Orion shot her a dismissive glance. "Tita already told me about Draco."

"I imagine what Titania has told you about Draco's behavior," said Calypso sternly. "But she doesn't know that you gave him Lezander's blood-"

"Is he displaying some vampiric traits?" interrupted Orion, eyeing her wearily.

"He is, but he won't admit it. He won't even talk to me about it," said Calypso, pointedly piercing him with her beautiful, large black eyes. "I see him wincing every time someone shouts or talks loudly, and I see him staring at the most ordinary of objects as if they held the answers to the mysteries of Magic, as if he could see every single detail of them which we can't-"

"It's just a phase," said Orion calmly, waving a hand dismissively. "At first it's like that. He'll get used to it quickly. I did."

"But you wanted to have Lez's blood. He doesn't," she pointed out matter-of-factly. "And that makes a whole lot of difference."

"What's your point?" bit out Orion, scowling as he crossed his arms over his chest. "That I should have let him die instead of giving him Lez's blood?!"

"No, you dunderhead," snapped Calypso angrily. "I'm just saying that you should see him and have a long talk with him! I don't know why you haven't done it already. You're not showing that you care for him."

"Fine," bit out Orion irritably, crouching on the ground to grab two small pebbles in the garden. He concentrated hard on a mental image of his room in Zraven Citadel and then tapped his wand on both pebbles, murmuring the spell, "Portus!"

The pebbles in his hand briefly vibrated and glowed in a blue light, before they settled down on his palm. He then thrust them into Calypso hands. "Portkeys. One for you, the other for Draco. He will have no problem in portkeying into Zraven Citadel with it, since he has Lez's blood. I'll ask Lezander to key you in to the Citadel's wards so that you can use yours." He shot her a pointed glance. "Draco can come see me when he likes and feels ready to discuss matters."

"Alright," said Calypso shortly, pocketing the pebbles. "This will do, I suppose. It's better than nothing, though I'm sure he would like-"

"What?" bit out Orion, glowering at her. "What would he like? What other thing am I not doing right? Should I add it to the long list?"

Remaining silent, Calypso narrowed her eyes at him, a hard and disapproving expression on her face. Then, quite abruptly, she sighed, her face turning gentle, as she murmured quietly, "I think I know what's bothering you so much. Why you doubt to do what Lezander asks regarding Draco. You fear they will come to love each other, and thus abandon you. But you're wrong."

She eyed him carefully, as she continued, "I know them. Draco is incapable of truly loving someone like Lez, and Lezander has no interest in finding love in Draco. You're Lezander's lifemate and you're who Draco has always wanted. I don't think this will ever change. Theirs would be a union of convenience. Even if Lez makes Draco his mate, at best, they will be close friends and companions, and they will find comfort and safety in each other, but I don't think it will ever evolve into anything more. And I think-"

"That I should help them come close together," interjected Orion, his irritable anger having already evaporated. He heavily sighed, slowly carding his fingers through his hair. "Yes, it's the least I can do, isn't it?"

Calypso clutched his shoulders, and said vehemently, "If you want them, you can make it work between you three. And don't fear being left aside by them. They won't."

"You always know what to say to cheer me up." He shot her a devilish grin, and added nonchalantly, "Let's hope it goes as you say. I am selfish about this, I admit, but I also truly want them to be happy."

Orion leaned down to peck her on the forehead, and murmured, "I'll do it. I'll complete my bond with Lez – I had already decided it."

And with that, and an impish smile, he instantly apparated to Zraven Citadel, leaving Calypso blinking at the space he had vacated.


	37. Hermione's memories, the Trio & Morticia

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Yay, I've posted, at last! Took me some time since I've been very busy with my studies, but I hope you enjoy this loooong chappie.

And thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Your reviews always help a lot, both motivating me and making me mull over stuff and thus helping me to come up with new ideas *grins*

Now I would like to address some points brought up by some of you.

Firstly, it is true that Orion seems to have been downplayed for some time. Indeed, he could have done so much more against the muggle, but on the other hand, he hasn't been in a situation which would merit using all his power yet. He needed to capture the muggle alive, not kill him, therefore he had no use for displaying great amounts of power or spells. Furthermore, I don't like to write him as if he were invincible and all-powerful, even if he should be given his magical skills and capacity.

He's the most powerful dark wizard alive, true, but he's also young and relatively inexperienced when compared to someone like Voldemort. Therefore, he's still vulnerable and doesn't make the best decisions all the time. That's why he didn't do anything 'amazing' during his confrontation with the muggle, because he thought it wasn't required. And he'll keep making little mistakes like that. I don't want him to be 'super', no matter how powerful he is, because if not it would be very boring to see him easily overcome any problem and enemy, and it wouldn't be realistic anyway, given his age and inexperience. And his skills will be seen in the battlefield, since there he knows that it is needed.

Secondly, I can understand why many of you don't like Calypso, and that's part of the point. She's the type of person who has a very strong personality and who isn't scared to express her firm opinions and ideas. And thus, she comes on strong and domineering, but she does so because she cares about Orion.

In short, she is the type of person you either hate or love, and for my part I tend to very much like people with a strong personality, so that's why I chose to write her like that. And also because she's exactly what Orion needs in a friend, I feel. And she's how I imagine a dark pureblood girl with her background would be. On the other hand, you must remember that there's something going on with her, and that she had just spent a day and night imprisoned in a Ministry cell, so her behavior during the last chapter should be understandable.

Lastly, as someone pointed out, why didn't Orion block bullets with Protego or any other shield spell? Well, as far as I know and remember, 'protego' and similar spells only serve to block spells and curses, and not all of them – i.e. the Unforgivables . They are used to block magic, not objects, so he couldn't use them. On the other hand, Orion surely knows a lot of spells to block objects too, but not necessarily bullets, because why would Hogwarts, Durmstrang or any other wizarding school teach spells to be used against muggles?

It wouldn't make sense, since the wizarding world is kept apart from the muggle world, so there's no reason to be teaching spells to be used against muggles. Moreover, Hogwarts isn't a place where such spells would be taught, given its light-orientation, and Durmstrang isn't either since it's dark-oriented and founded on purebloods ideals, meaning that they wouldn't see muggles as a threat and therefore wouldn't teach spells to defend against something they see as weak and insignificant, as muggles are thought of by purebloods. Which is obviously a negative aspect of Durmstrang and such schools.

In short, why would any school teach its pupils how to block muggle bullets? I think they would only do that if they expected to be in war against the muggle world, which they don't. So expecting wizarding schools to teach spells like those is like expecting muggles to be taught how to use guns in highschool – doesn't happen either, thankfully.

But all this doesn't mean that there simply aren't any spells that could be used against muggles. There are, but Calypso has yet to find them or create them. For instance, it should be expected of certain wizards to know what to use against bullets. I certainly think that Voldemort knows how to do this, and much more, against muggles, given his aim to wipe them out. And I think that Grindelwald would have also known how, given that he was involved in WWII. That is, wizards who have reason to learn such spells or create them, certainly have. It's just that Orion hasn't had the time to get into it. And that's part of the fun too, to see how wizards would combat muggles, and see both parties realize that it isn't that simple, that magic doesn't easily overcome muggle technology and weapons, and vice-versa.

Note: There isn't any action in this chappie, but things are going to be sped up a lot in the next ones, if I can pull it off.

**Important: I would like to know your opinion regarding Orion's Necromantic training. How would you prefer that it was covered? In detail, more or less as I've being writing things so far, or more succinctly, like with brief scenes and flashes and with large skips in time? And also, should it all be covered in one chapter or several? Consider that the training is supposed to last from one to two years. I would really appreciate it if you could tell me what you prefer. Thanks! **

**Warning: explicit slash content – it's a very long, long section. Don't like it, skip it. *****winks***

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**Chapter 37**

The moment Orion apparated into his bedroom in Zraven Citadel, he dropped on the bed without bothering to even light the candles and torches in his room. He felt tired, but his mind was also busily buzzing.

As he stretched and relaxed on the bed, surrounded by the darkness of his room and solely concerned about the meeting of the following day, he closed his eyes and delved into his own mind. There, as he had felt since the moment he had marked Draco, he first detected a small blue flame, not faintly flickering as before when Draco had been unconscious, but now strong and clear.

He swiftly left that alone, since he had no intention of poking it to make Draco aware of him or of using it to summon the wizard to him. Then he felt his connection to Voldemort, but as usual, it was closed under many layers of firmly set Occlumency shields. Mere seconds after he scooted away from it, he found what he was looking for – his link to Hermione's mind through the curse he had cast on her.

It had been quite some time since he had plunged into her mind, and now he did so, gently, covertly and quietly, as a mere foggy mist funneling into a small keyhole. Orion's awareness instantly trickled into hers and he quickly realized that she was asleep, vague thoughts slowly floating about without any particular order or coherence.

With deep and precise concentration, he delved further under the sheet of foggy sleepiness and he started ruffling through her impressions and memories of the last few days. And his satisfaction grew the more he saw, seeing that she had indeed done much of what he had instructed her to do.

It was several days now that Hermione had left her parents' home to spend part of her summer holidays with the Weasleys, having secured an invitation from Ron. To Orion's amusement and growing respect for her, he saw how she had, before departing to the Burrow, wiped out her parents' memories of her. She had, as well, cast a strong compulsion on them, making them suddenly wish to establish their dentist business in Sydney, of all places. Orion found the effort and attempt both endearing and naïve. Surely Hermione didn't think that he wouldn't find that secret, did she?

Well, he couldn't reproach her the decision to send her parents away and have them safe in anonymity. She knew that the war was coming and surely feared that he would use her parents against her. Though, it was quite pointless. The idea had never entered his mind. He had enough control over her through the mind-possession curse. Nevertheless, it was a wise move on her part, since even though he wouldn't stoop so low as to attack her muggle parents, he knew that Death Eaters would if given the chance. Regardless, her decision had been a tough one to make. He could, even now, feel her grief and dejection over the perceived loss of her parents.

What was even more interesting were the happenings in the Burrow. He saw the Weasley family warmly welcoming Hermione in their home, he saw Ron taking her to what used to be Ginny Weasley's bedroom and helping her to settle there for her visit. And unsurprisingly, he saw Hermione breaking down and clutching a bewildered Ron as she cried on his shoulder.

Orion didn't have to delve much to know the cause. Ron and Hermione had only become friends after Neville Longbottom had been killed during the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Neville had been Hermione's only friend up until then, since most of Gryffindor House disliked her all-knowing and bookish personality, and Ron had been at the forefront of those who ridiculed her. But after Neville's death, Ron and her had bonded over the grief of losing someone due to the Dark. Ron had had the pain of losing his little sister in her first year at Hogwarts and had been able to commiserate with Hermione after Neville's death.

And now he saw them, in Hermione's memories, with her sobbing on Ron's shoulder since Ginerva Weasley's bedroom had reminded Hermione of Neville. Of course, it went a little bit deeper than that, since the memory was shrouded by deep feelings of self-recrimination and loathing, the word 'traitor' briskly floating around the memory. She considered herself such, in every subsequent memory he inspected, most especially when he saw her approaching McGonagall when the old witch visited the Burrow to start planning the wards to be cast around the place.

As he had instructed her, Hermione had made known her desire to do something for the Order of the Phoenix, as well as her desire to know about the warding process. He saw Alastor Moody refusing to let her participate or know anything about the construction of the wards, the ex-Auror's roving magical eye suspiciously fixed on her. But McGonagall, in one of her rare gestures of sympathy and understanding, had allowed her favorite student to satiate her hunger for knowledge regarding ward construction.

To Orion's delight, Hermione had been observing the warding process during several days. Several Aurors had been dropping in the Burrow to cast ward over ward, under the direction of Moody. He even saw Cedric Diggory participating in the endeavor, and all suspicions about the young Auror being part of the Order were confirmed. Furthermore, he had seen his father dropping in several times, mostly to spend some time with Arthur Weasley in the shed behind the Burrow.

Circe knew what Sirius and Arthur were up to in the shed, but whatever it was, it didn't seem to please Molly much. But Orion could only discern, from Hermione's memories, that Sirius had developed a close friendship with Arthur - which he had known after the meeting in Lycaon- and that Molly regarded his father as some kind of misbehaving, rebellious child who threatened to lead her husband down the path of some mischief or other.

Yet, to Orion's satisfaction, he saw that Sirius was well liked by everyone, especially by the twins, Charlie and Bill. Though Hermione seemed to feel quite exasperated with his immatureness and rarely spent any time with him, so Orion didn't have many memories to peruse regarding his father. Only that Sirius was under no suspicion, even though Moody's roving magical eye still set upon him more frequently than not.

Furthermore, even though Moody had been outranked by McGonagall in the matter of allowing Hermione to see the warding process, he had, on the other hand, gruffly determined that the young witch could be useful to the Order. In that, McGonagall had been against his decision, but since the wizard was clearly in command of the recruiting effort, Hermione had been, in the end, allowed to participate in some of the Order meetings.

To Orion's disappointment, he soon saw that the meetings in which Hermione had been included were those of lower-order and scarce importance, not any meetings where important issues about the war effort were discussed. They seemed to be meetings with the sole purpose of start instructing the younger members of the Order. He saw the Weasley twins in them, as well as Ron and Hermione, with Charlie and Bill Weasley appearing in them often enough, alongside Cedric and other young wizards.

How Moody had convinced Molly Weasley to allow her children to be part of the 'young Order', he didn't know, but it was evident that at some point the young ones were going to be given some responsibilities in the war against the Dark. Or perhaps it was merely due to their wise decision to prepare those who would inevitably be sucked into the war, given that their parents were Order member themselves. Nevertheless, Molly had made her dissatisfaction known whenever she could, no matter how sternly Moody glanced at her with his magical eye.

What caught Orion's interest was the involvement of Viktor Krum. And the knowledge that his former schoolmate was now staunchly backing the Order pained him. His friend Kara Kavsir, being Krum's cousin, even though never having been particularly attached to the Seeker, wouldn't be happy to know about this. Cousins would be pitched against cousins, that was certain, though he knew that Kara must have realized that it would be inevitable at some point. The Krum side of her family had always been muggleborn-sympathizers.

Orion ruffled through some more memories, seeing Hermione reading Albus' Treatise under the cover of the night, in Ginny's bedroom, when all others were asleep, her thoughts clear to him. He felt her alarm and trepidation over what she was reading, her attempts to deny that muggleborn blood mixed with pure blood through lines of procreation vastly weakened the magic of the resulting offspring over several generations. He then sensed her slow acceptance of Albus' long ago printed words, but also her resolve to find a 'solution', as it was thought in her mind.

A solution, or anything that could fix the problem, because Hermione firmly thought that there had to be a way for her kind to be wholly accepted and respected in the magical world, by all wizards, dark purebloods included. He saw her researching the matter in other books, he saw her asking subtle questions here and there without raising suspicions. And in the end, Orion couldn't find anything faulty with it. By all means, one more person to look into the matter from a different angle could be nothing but useful, and with any luck, productive.

He stored away all the information he could find about the wards that were being cast around the Burrow, and then indolently perused more of her recent memories.

With a twist of his lips and a coil of disgust, he saw Ron's fumbling attempts to 'court' Hermione, if it could be called that. He saw Ron's freckled face turning red as he brushed hands with the young witch, a slight blush on her cheeks as they reached for the same glass of pumpkin juice during breakfast. He saw the twins grinning and taunting their youngest brother, making the couple turn beet red and hastily part in different directions. He even saw, to his mounting horror, wishing he was struck blind, how once Ron had armed himself with some gumption and awkwardly pressed a wet and slobbering kiss on Hermione's mouth, quite out of the blue, while they had been de-gnoming the garden.

More often than not, accompanied by such memories, he perceived Hermione's increasing sense of emotional pain and grim depression, since she considered herself to be an unwilling traitor in their midst. Every time Ron did something 'charming' and 'gallant', solely in her opinion, all giddy pleasure was darkened and overcome by her feeling of self-loathing, by her frantic wish to be able to free herself from the curse, by her feeling of sheer impotence.

Intense guilt overrode every other emotion in her, but Orion couldn't feel anything but detached sympathy. She would have to learn to deal with it, because, for his part, he would only lift the curse when her usefulness expired. And in his opinion, that could very well never happen.

Lastly, he inspected her memories of that very same day, and he stopped short, feeling quite out of breath with surprise. Bill Weasley had brought Fleur Delacour to the Burrow, to stay there with him up until the day of their wedding. He felt Hermione's grumpy jealously of the quarter-Veela, her intense dislike of Fleur, since Ron salivated after the Veela every time they crossed paths in the house. But what shocked Orion the most was that Fleur had brought with her, her cousin, to stay with the Weasleys as well.

There, was Arian, deeply encroached in Hermione's memories of the day, surrounded by her feelings of admiration and attraction to the wizard, which seemed to both bother and utterly entice her. And it shook Orion to the core, since he wasn't imagining the knowing glint in Arian's eyes as he charmingly dazzled Hermione with a flirtatious smile. The way he 'accidentally' brushed Hermione's frizzy hair, making her stutter some reply to his solicitous attentions, the way he carelessly informed her that he was 'distantly' related to Albus Dumbledore, without giving any precise information about the matter, which induced Hermione to covertly show him Albus' Treatise.

Arian had grinned then, as she showed him the booklet in Ginny's bedroom, while everyone else was downstairs getting ready for lunch. Quite nonchalantly, Arian had informed her that all of it was true, and he had left Hermione staring and gaping at him, her mind rushing with countless thoughts per second, as he winked at her and left the room.

The last thing he saw was an informal meeting of the Order after dinner, which Hermione had been allowed to attend, like the rest of the young ones in the house with the addition of some others who had been invited over for that occasion. And Arian had taken the stage after a brief introduction by McGonagall, who was quite clearly besotted with the young wizard in a grandmotherly way, and who undoubtedly had known about his relation to Albus Dumbledore. Indeed, now everyone knew that Arian was Albus' grandnephew, since it was the first thing to be disclosed in the meeting.

The twins had gaped. Bill Weasley had glanced at Fleur questioningly, who had the shocked expression of one who hadn't known about that at all, no matter if she was indeed Arian's cousin twice removed. Ron had fumed with bitter envy. Arthur and Molly Weasley had been quite clearly ecstatic, the latter embracing Arian in a tight, warm hug. Hermione's fascination and respect for the wizard had climbed up several notches more. Charlie Weasley had looked surprised but also relieved, and the rest had had similar reactions.

Viktor Krum had inspected Arian with deep interest, without saying a word. Cedric Diggory hadn't looked at all surprised, which gave Orion reason to believe that Arian had established beforehand some sort of friendship with the young Auror, at some point. While Cho Chang, surprisingly having attended the meeting hand-in-hand with Cedric, had had the appearance of one who had developed a secret new crush, albeit a platonic one, since her loving admiration had, throughout it all, mostly been focused on Cedric.

The silver ring in Cho's finger had furthermore indicated to Orion that the couple had finally become officially betrothed, as he had known would happen since Cedric had confided in him about his wish, a long time ago, when they had still been 'friends', before his siding with Voldemort had been known. Indeed, that friendship had been broken when they had faced each other during the Death Eater breach of Hogwarts. And after that incident, he had never again received any letters from Fleur, Cedric, or Krum, who used to write to him ever since the Triwizard Tournament.

Regardless, the loss of some worthy friends was hardly something he should be lamenting, so Orion kept perusing the memory of the Order meeting.

Right after the initial disclosure, Arian had casually dropped a "Albus is alive", and it had been pandemonium. A massive sigh of relief, hope and elation had been breathed out by the assembled motley group, before an avalanche of questions had been asked. Arian had bore it all quite suavely, as one soothing a skittish herd of sheep, all of them soon falling to his thrall of dazzling charm and apparent noble humility and benevolence.

It made Orion sick. One smile from Arian, bestowed upon light wizards, and it seemed to even have more power than Albus Dumbledore's twinkling eyes.

With his awareness deeply in the midst of the recollection, Orion gritted his teeth. And when he came to the end of it, his blood nearly froze in his veins, since Arian had gently proclaimed to his new mass of devotees, "No one is to attempt to fight Orion Black. None of you could ever hope to defeat him. He is to be left to me." That, of course, had given way to more questions, some fired with anger. Ron, especially, had been quite indignant, puffing and boldly vouching to be quite capable of defeating 'Black', spitting the name as if it was the vilest thing in existence.

Arian had waved off their objections, and had simply uttered one last statement before he waltzed out of the kitchen. He had shot them one of his pearly-white, dazzling smiles, and then, staring straight at Hermione, he had said softly, his lips quirking upwards, "Orion Black is mine." And with that, he had left them, clearly conveying that his orders would not be opposed by any of them.

And Orion hadn't imagined the way Arian had knowingly stared at Hermione, playful amusement glinting in his cerulean eyes. By Circe, there was no doubt in Orion's mind that Arian knew exactly what was upon Hermione Granger. Indeed, the wizard knew about the mind-possession curse, it was evident. And Arian had to know that he would be seeing these memories of them, since the wizard seemed to be communicating directly with him every time he fixedly stared into Hermione's eyes, dazzling her with charming smiles, making her heart flutter while Ron Weasley brooded in a corner, glaring at the wizard.

The knowing, mocking and taunting glint in Arian's azure eyes, as he bore them into Hermione's, made Orion feel sickly ill and enraged, and he briskly tore away from the connection, swiftly leaving Hermione's unconscious mind.

He groaned, his eyes firmly shut, as he plopped his head on the fluffy pillow on his bed. His mind swirled with possible actions that Arian could take, trying to trace a path under every probable scenario, all of it mixed with the other information he had gleaned from Hermione's mind.

Even if he knew that Arian couldn't possibly break the curse on her, since only the caster could, it still irked him that the wizard knew about it. That it had taken but a mere glance during their first meeting, and the light wizard had somehow detected the curse on her. It left him bristling and seething.

Suddenly, he felt something on his naked shoulder, and Orion snapped his eyes open, jumping upwards in his bed.

"Bloody hell," he yelped, clutching his chest as he scowled at who was towering over him besides his bed, "you scared me half to death!"

"I thought you were done," murmured Lezander, his slanted pale blue eyes roving over him with concern. "You were perusing Granger's mind, weren't you?" Orion stiffly nodded, and made an attempt to sit up, which was instantly thwarted when the young Rege gently pushed him to lie back on the bed, the vampire's gaze worriedly inspecting him. "You're covered in dried blood. What happened? What took you so long? Are Titania and the others in some kind of trouble?"

Orion tiredly sighed, and then patted the spot beside him on the bed. "Take a seat. It's a long story."

* * *

"Illuminati?" muttered Lezander, pacing around Orion's bedroom, as he had done the moment Orion had finished relating the events of the evening to him, including all his suspicions and conclusions, and also what he had seen in Hermione's mind.

The young Rege swirled to pierce him with a worried gaze. "You're right. Vivian surely thought that they didn't exist anymore, or she would have mentioned them to you or me."

Suddenly, in the next blink of the eye, he was gently pulling Orion from the bed, crouching to gaze at his torso, softly touching the thin scar there, as he murmured apprehensively, "This was a serious wound." His jaw clenched as he rose to stand inches from Orion, his voice turning curt with anger, "You were careless. You should have disposed of the muggle quickly instead of playing the cat and mouse chase game. You should have made better use of your vampiric traits, Orion. That's what we've been teaching you. What's the point of your training if you persist on acting impulsively when you should-"

"I came out of it unscathed in the end, didn't I?" snapped Orion shortly, flicking his wand to siphon the dried blood from his torso, then casting a full-body cleansing charm.

Without a second thought, he divested himself of his dirtied and torn trousers and accioed a pajama pant from his dresser. He was holding them in his hands, about to pull them on, when he detected Lezander's abrupt silence and the vampire's intense focus on him.

He arched an eyebrow, and bit out moodily, "What now? Am I not allowed to go to sleep? Do I have to ask permission from the 'Master of the Citadel' before I can call it a night? Or do you intend to keep scolding me like a mother hen-"

"Are you trying to tempt me?" groused out Lezander, looking as short-tempered as Orion felt.

Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline as he glanced down at himself, seeing nothing but his naked legs and his black, crumpled boxers riding low on his hips. All of him covered with bruises, scratches and cuts here and there, healed and in the process of disappearing, but still visible for the moment. He looked as if he had been run over by the Knight Bus.

He scoffed, gesturing at himself. "This, tempts you?"

Lezander remained stonily quiet, and Orion started eyeing him with amusement, flinging his pajama pants to his bed, as he slowly approached the vampire, murmuring silkily, "My, I still affect you, after so long? Even when Draco is the one with your blood now, and when I haven't taken any in a very long while?"

"What are you playing at?" said Lezander sharply, his pale blue eyes narrowing further which each step Orion took towards him. "You're starting something you have no intention of finishing, and I don't appreciate it. You should know better-"

"Who says I'm not going to finish it?" quipped Orion, feeling all tiredness fading away as he devilishly grinned at him, quite set on having his way.

"We haven't spoken about it," interjected Lezander accusingly, regarding him with suspicion, a pinch of wary apprehension, and a slight smidgen of hurt. "You've been avoiding me and any discussion of the matter-"

"We don't need to discuss anything," scoffed Orion with a roll of his eyes. "I'm tired of talking. We both know what's in the Kraljica Mati's Book, we both know what could come to happen, and we both want it." He bore his emerald eyes into the vampire's pale blue ones, his lips tilting into a smile as he gripped the young Rege's nape. "Don't we?"

Lezander seemed to falter as Orion started to gently thread his fingers through the vampire's long, silky black hair, and the vampire muttered quietly, intently eyeing him, "What about what I asked of you? About Draco-"

"I will go along with your plan," interrupted Orion, shooting him a large smile before he leaned upwards to trail his tongue along the vampire's lower lip. "And I'll help you with him. I want him too... the two of you…"

A shiver seemed to run down Lezander's body, and Orion was already victoriously grinning when the vampire suddenly stepped backwards and tightly gripped Orion's arms to pull him away.

It seemed to have taken the vampire considerable effort, but Lezander had effectively put some distance between them, and was now regarding him with a stern frown on his handsome, pale face. "You haven't thought about it thoroughly. You're acting impulsively and you can't about this. There will be no going back, and I don't want you to rush into it-"

"You must be joking," snapped Orion angrily, his teeth gritting as he glared at him. "You cannot back down now! It was your idea-"

"I'm not backing down," said Lezander sternly, his frown deepening as he assessed him closely and guardedly. "The bond once completed is forever, Orion, and I don't want to be left hanging the day you suddenly decide it's not convenient for you any longer-"

"That's what you think of me?" interjected Orion incredulously, with half a mind to stomp his foot in a rather childish manner and with another half mind to smack some sense into the vampire. But his anger won the battle, and his green eyes narrowed to slits, as he snapped crisply, "Let me assure you that it isn't 'convenient' for me at all, but I want to do it anyway. And I've given it considerable thought – I'm not acting 'impulsively'."

He jerked away from the vampire's grasp, crossed his arms over his bare chest, and eyed him with a hard expression on his face, feeling his anger mounting with each passing second. "You've never accused me of acting out of self-interest before. I gain nothing by completing our bond, you should know. If anything, it will bring me trouble with the werewolves." He darkly glared at him, and added with a frosty sneer, "I'm acting out of 'personal desires' and I'll be much criticized for it, let me tell you-"

"I'm sorry," murmured Lezander, looking deflated and contrite, as he rubbed his jaw with a hand. "I spoke without thinking. I never thought that you would do it seeking any gain."

"You got that right," said Orion stiffly, not at all mollified. "But I'm not going to throw myself at you if you've changed your mind."

Lezander looked up at him, surprised and with an anxious cast in his pale blue eyes, and he whispered softly, "I haven't. I want you. How could I not? You're my lifemate. I want to have you in any way I can, you know that. It's just that you refused to discuss it with me before, and I thought you had already decided against it, and now you abruptly tell me that you want to…"

He shook his head, and briefly shot Orion a wide, warm and elated smile, and in the next second he moved so fast that Orion didn't know exactly what happened. He simply found himself pinned against the stone wall, with Lezander pressed tightly against him and the vampire's warm lips meshing with his, a tongue quickly delving inside his mouth, deeply exploring, hungrily, needy and longing, and almost frantic, as if the vampire was trying to crawl inside him or suck everything from him, or afraid that he would disappear – Orion couldn't quite decide. Indeed, he couldn't quite string two thoughts together.

It had been so long since he had experienced one of Lezander's kisses that the assault took him rather by surprise, unprepared for the sensations that the vampire's intimate touches and kisses had always evoked in him. It felt all-encompassing and consuming, as it always had, but in a warm and gentle way, not the ravenous conquering and brutal enforced submission that he always felt with Voldemort, but rather the soft tenderness so characteristic in Lezander when dealing with him, as if he was a precious and fragile thing, hungrily craved but also handled with tender care, being gently cradled in all-surrounding warmth.

In essence, Orion felt his brain turning into a foggy mush, and he responded to Lezander's profound, deep kiss just as passionately and tenderly, caressing his tongue against the vampire's, swirling its tip around the canines he felt sharpening inside his mouth, undulating his tongue around the vampire's without any battle of dominance taking place, just feeling the sheer enjoyment of the pleasure mounting between them.

Orion's green eyes were still wide, but now they were glazed and unfocusedly met Lezander's pale blue gaze as their kiss deepened, now with a demanding sensation to it. His heart was loudly thumping in his chest and he felt as if his blood was frantically rushing through his veins, leaving him breathless and panting. And he gripped the vampire closer to him, their clothed arousals rubbing together, making him moan inside their kiss, as they writhed against each other, an increasing sense of belonging and urgency building up, a sort of inexorable pull winding them together, feeling as if something wanted to fuse him with the vampire.

Lezander's pale blue eyes darkened with need, and he briefly parted from the kiss to nibble on Orion's lower lip, as he whispered in a low, husky voice, "Do you feel it – our blood bond calling us to complete it? This was meant to be, dragostea mea. I won't let you go again. I will not lose you again. I can't."

Orion's dazed eyes widened further, the words echoing eerily in his mind, and he vaguely and distantly realized that he had heard those words before, that he had experienced this in one of his visions, that another one was coming true. But all thoughts flew from his mind when he caught a glimpse of Lezander's canines sharpening and elongating further, and in the next bat of the eyelash, he felt a sharp piercing sensation in his neck.

Lezander sunk his canines deeper in, and soon Orion's eyes glazed with fevered need and desire as the vampire suckled his neck, making him feel rolls of clashing waves of pleasure raging through his body. A sort of plush, tranquil weakness spread through him, and Orion's eyes rolled as he sagged against Lezander, moaning as the vampire kept drinking from him, both taking blood but also giving pleasure.

Abruptly, he felt something against the back of his knees, and then he was being gently lowered on the plush bed. Orion noticed that in his mindless pleasure he hadn't seen Lezander taking some of his clothes off. The vampire was now hovering over him with only his pants on, while he still had his boxers on, but now they were touching bare skin against bare, satiny, warm skin, because Lezander's skin simply felt like that when Orion started trailing his fingertips along the vampire's toned, smooth chest.

The skin felt like butter under his caresses, or like velvet, or like something of the sort, he couldn't quite think. But he could, however, feel everything. How Lezander wedged a knee between his legs, parting them to allow the vampire to get in between them, their clothed arousals rubbing against each other, sending spikes of pleasure tingling through Orion's body as their chests met, as he felt Lezander's heart beating as hard and fast as his own.

"I need you to say it," whispered Lezander softly, yet also with a tone of urgency to his words, as he nipped the small, tender lobe of Orion's ear. "I need to hear you say it, willingly, agreeing-"

"Circe," breathed out Orion, clutching the vampire's shoulders to pull him tighter against him. "Yeah, I do bloody want to complete the bond between us, Lez. Merlin's staff… I wanna shag, finally, once and for all…"

"Not shag," said Lezander quietly, pulling himself up with his elbows at either side of Orion's head, to seriously pin him with his pale blue eyes. "I'm going to make love to you, inima mea."

Orion jerkily nodded, weakly bobbing his head up and down, as he mumbled quickly, "Fine by me… I want that too… just hurry…"

Just when Lezander gave him one of the most loving, tender and warm smiles he had ever seen, the elation and joy written clearly in his expression, the vampire suddenly froze above him, his eyes widening as if he had felt something which shocked him, the muscles in his arms slightly bulging and tensing.

"Isn't this nice," drawled a frosty voice with a contemptuous, infuriated sneer.

Orion nearly jumped out of his skin, no matter how drained and dazed he still felt after being fed from by Lezander. But the startlement had been so abrupt and thorough that it gave him an adrenaline rush which pumped him with enough energy to allow him to prop his head up to look over Lezander's shoulders and confirm his suspicions.

"Bloody fuck," he breathed out, staring at the intruder with wide eyes, something heavily dropping in his stomach, any remnant of color vanishing from his face.

Yup, that was Draco staring at them, standing in the middle of the bedroom, holding one of the pebbles he had given to Calypso but a mere hour ago. That was Draco who had just portkeyed in, and who was gazing at them with eyes so narrowed that they were mere silvery slits. The raging fury was quite evident on his chiseled patrician features, foremost in the way the young wizard's jaw was tightly clenched, looking as if he was about to crack a tooth if he kept the irate pressure on.

Orion groaned as he allowed his head to hit the pillow. He shot Lezander a glance, since the vampire still seemed petrified, hovering over him, trapping him since they were still pressed against each other and the young Rege's arms caged him in. With a bit of interest he noticed that the vampire's pupils had dilated, perhaps due to Draco's close presence. Nevertheless, Orion knew he had to regain his energy and sharp wits to weather out the incoming storm.

Quite unceremoniously, he sharply elbowed Lezander in the ribs, pushing him to a side. With a grunt, the vampire rolled over, seemingly slowly coming out of whatever surprised trance he had been in. And Orion didn't waste any time in none-too-gently biting down on Lezander's lower lip, breaking skin and swiftly suckling the thin trickle of blood which dripped from the blunt bite.

The vampire seemed to know why Orion was doing so, and simply remained lying on the bed, caressing Orion's nape in the meanwhile. A snort of pure disgust came from Draco, but he was thoroughly ignored, and finally Orion let Lezander know he was done and showed his gratitude by tenderly licking the cut.

He hadn't taken much blood from such a shallow, small wound, but at least he felt a spark of renewed strength coursing through his body. Enough to allow him to jump out of the bed and onto his feet, facing Draco with all the nonchalance he could muster, because, really, there was nothing he actually felt guilty about.

Before stepping forward to meet the young pureblood face to face, and inches from each other, he shot Lezander a glance over his shoulder, and the vampire seemed to understand what he tried to convey. The young Rege remained seated on the bed, without attempting to approach Draco in any way, while Orion reached the enraged young wizard.

"You're not going to ruin things for us by throwing a hissy fit," he informed Draco calmly, before he gave the dark wizard any chance to say anything first. "Lezander and I are going to shag tonight, and I'll be completing the bond with him. Now that you're here, quite unexpectedly, it only changes one thing - whether you'll be part of it or not. It's up to you."

"What?" Draco gaped at him, clearly momentarily stunned out of his rage and out of his wits. But it didn't last long, in the next second he had whipped out his wand, aiming it directly at Orion, as he furiously spit out, "What the bloody hell are you babbling about, Potter?!" His eyes narrowed to silvery slits which gleamed with hatred. "I couldn't care less what you do with the filthy halfbreed. I didn't come here to see him. I don't want to even be in the same room as him."

He shot Lezander a venomous, contemptuous look, before he glanced back at Orion. "I came here to discuss everything you've been keeping a secret from me. What Calypso told me tonight was the last straw, Potter!" His face contorted with rage, and he sneered acidly, "Because you're actually a Potter, aren't you? Another thing you kept from me, telling me that yes, you had been Harry Potter but that you were truly a Black-"

"Is that seriously what angers you the most?" interjected Orion disbelievingly. "That I have Potter blood, bloodtraitor blood, due to the consangri ritual that my mum and James Potter made me go through as a baby?"

"That's not the only thing, but merely the first of countless," spat Draco, his fingers clenching around the grasp on his wand. "The Hallow things, the Peverells, the horcruxes, the locket of the young Dark Lord – Tom Riddle – a halfblood, despicable!" His voice turned chilly in his profound disgust and rage. "Rose Evans and her Slytherin blood, The Lady of the Lake, the Spirits of Durmstrang, the meaning of the prophecy, Grindelwald, the Aux Atrum people, the Vindico stuff, that you were Regulus, Sextus Black, and now apparently Mordred himself! What really happened when you took some of my soul's essence - you told me that it had been a necromantic spell that you had fucked up, when the truth is that you had been using the Resurrection Stone thing! Then the whole Cadmus Peverell the Dementor thing, the Necromancers, the Guild, the Sources, Stonehenge, Avalon, the Illuminati, what my father has been forced to do due to your interference, the way you stopped me from killing Dumbledore – I would have done it!- making me fail in my task, making the Dark Lord-" he spat with utter revulsion "-who doesn't deserve the position given his tainted blood - what he did to me because of you, and what you did to me by feeding me the halfbreed's blood."

He heatedly glared at Orion, and snarled furiously, "I could go on and on, Potter! You never told me anything, but you did tell Calypso and the halfbreed. If I had known, it would have been different. Things would have turned out differently for me! You're responsible for everything, not just for all the lies you've fed me during all the years of our acquaintance. I trusted you and you betrayed me over and over again!"

When Draco ended his furious tirade, breathing heavily, Orion merely regarded him with solemn silence, before he said coolly, "I didn't tell you because you're a Malfoy and I couldn't trust you not to tell you father, who would have surely used any of the information to pull my strings, and you know it. So I don't regret it. It would have put you in an awkward position. Why should I have tested your friendship like that? It was better that way-"

"I've lost everything," hissed out Draco through gritted teeth, taking a threatening step forward, his wand still aimed at Orion. "I am disowned, did you know that?"

Orion blanched, and then shook his head as he muttered quietly, "Lucius wouldn't have. He saw the Spirits-"

"He did," spat Draco, his jaw jerkily clenching. "I received a letter from Gringotts. I no longer have access to any Malfoy vault. I'm not the Malfoy Heir anymore!"

"Merlin, I'm sorry, Draco," mumbled Orion, paling, staring at him with wide, sullen eyes. "I never thought… I mean, Lucius mentioned the possibility, but I thought he wouldn't do it. I thought he would find another way…" He shook his head, and then added firmly, "He did it to protect you, of that, I'm sure. By cutting all ties with you he's made sure that Voldemort cannot use him to get to you. It's just a way to make Voldemort believe that your father doesn't care about you anymore-"

"Whatever," spat Draco heatedly, a muscle pulsing in his jawline. "The point is that I've lost my position in the pureblood circles. How can I ever attempt to gain back my former life now?! I'm not even a pureblood anymore – I have halfbreed blood in me, Potter, because of you!"

"It was that or your death," interjected Orion sternly, leveling a hard gaze at him. "Besides, few know, and those who do, won't tell. It can be kept a secret if you want that."

"I want my life back – I want my birthright back, Potter!" bit out Draco through clenched teeth. Then he acidly sneered at him, "You're Mordred, right? Then you should be able to use your supposedly great magical prowess and influence to give it back to me."

"I could only do that once I'm the Vindico Atrum," said Orion coolly. "Not before, and that's assuming, of course, that I'll have absolute governing control – which could take years to gain, even if I went around claiming and proving that I'm Mordred reincarnated. Which I won't do, because I want people to follow me because of whom I am at present and not due to whom I've been in the past." He pointedly stared at Draco, and added vehemently, "In short, I think you should reevaluate your options. I can offer you much if you stay by my side, and so can Lezander-"

It took him utterly by surprise. Something struck him and he felt himself flying through the air, something painfully burning over his chest as he slammed against a wall. He dizzily slid to the floor, groaning as he clutched his chest, staring at the blood there. Then he caught sight of Draco approaching, looking quite deranged with spiting vengeful fury, undoubtedly about to cast another curse at him which would slash another long, deep cut on his flesh.

The moment he saw Lezander rushing towards Draco in a flash of movement, about to knock him down, while certainly looking as if he wouldn't restrain himself in the use of force or any other form of retribution, he acted.

Orion leaped forward and instantly landed on Draco, slamming him down on the floor and wasting no time in using his considerable physical strength to grab the wizard's wrists, pinning them above the platinum head.

"You're a stubborn, stuck up idiot," he spat angrily, wrenching Draco's wand from his hand and tossing it in Lezander's direction. "You're lucky that I didn't give Lez the chance to suck you dry for attacking me. I understand that you're under a lot of stress given your situation, but turning against me or Lez, given that we're the only ones who can and want to truly help you, is very stupid of you."

The moment Draco started bucking under him, trying to throw him off, and the second the young wizard opened his mouth to spat out something, Orion slammed a hand against Draco's mouth, muffling any words, and he tightened his one-hand hold on the wizard's wrists until he knew he was causing considerable pain, making Draco wince.

Seeing that the fury in Draco's silvery eyes didn't vanish, and that the wizard kept struggling against him, Orion finally waved a hand to magically gag him. In the next second, he flicked his wand and hissed a parsel-spell, conjuring four large snakes which instantly tightly coiled themselves around Draco's wrists and ankles, jaws poised to bite. That summarily made Draco freeze, his eyes widening with sudden fear.

"Now that I have your attention, listen carefully," bit out Orion sharply, all patience and niceness being long gone from him. "I have no doubt that your father will reinstate you as the Malfoy Heir the moment you're no longer in danger. He has no other heir, so you'll be the next Malfoy Lord, without a question. So you know that your lack of access to the Malfoy vaults and your so-called lost position in the pureblood circles are merely a temporary situation."

Pausing, he eyed him closely, before he continued, "Galleons, you don't need currently, since I can provide anything you need or want. And you can get back your 'position' if you stick with me, gaining power and influence through me, as the Elite are also going to do. Because when the times comes, those who'll rise to the top will be the closest followers of the victor, and I intended to be that."

He glanced up at Lezander, who was observing Draco with a thunderous expression on his face, visibly still angry at Draco for the attack. Orion waved him over, and Lezander momentarily frowned, before he crouched by their side, glancing quizzically at him.

"Tell him what you can offer to him," said Orion curtly, without moving from his place on top of Draco, still pinning him to the floor with the weight of his body and with his knees by the wizard's sides.

Lezander eyed Draco with distaste, while Draco glanced at him with evident scorn and contempt, yet the vampire said calmly and succinctly, "Protection. You could have the Zraven Clan backing you, and no one would dare harm you. Not even Voldemort, because he needs us for the war." He briskly gestured at the room. "This, the Citadel, could be your safe haven." He pierced Draco with his pale blue eyes, and added quietly, "And you could have much more if I made you my mate."

Draco's eyes widened and he forcefully struggled against his restraints, but when the snakes hissed warningly, he instantly stilled. His silvery eyes, blazing with indignant anger and seething, speared Orion.

"Don't be a fool," said Orion crisply, his lips thinning into a stern line. "I'm sure Calypso already told you this stuff – what we offer and want from you. In your position, I would seriously consider it."

He arched an eyebrow, and added matter-of-factly, "The status quo in the pureblood world won't last long, surely you realize this given what you know about my alliances. When I win the wars, there will be equal rights for all magical beings. Vampires, werewolves, and such, will have the same rights as wizards, without being looked down upon. And what kind of being do you think will have more political power and influence in a world like that, Draco? Simple purebloods who have delusions of grandeur solely based on the blood purity of their ancestors, or those who have ties with several power groups?"

Orion paused, letting it sink, and then smirked and gestured at himself. "It will be the latter. Those like me of mixed blood – with dark and vampire blood with a smidgen of light and muggle blood, added to my ties with the werewolves. Such mix makes me less in the eyes of many at present, but it will gain me much in the new world that we're going to build, Draco. Why do you still want to simply be one more Malfoy Lord when you could be one of the first to have the status that comes from being from a line of rich, respected purebloods plus all the benefits of also being considered part of a powerful magical vampire Clan? You could be one of the first of the kind, having one foot in pureblood society and the other in the vampire sphere, juggling both and using both to your advantage. Which pureblood could match you then, Draco?"

Draco frowned, apparently musingly, though his expression wasn't a pleased one, as if being forced to reconsider such matters greatly vexed him.

Lezander leaned over him, and pinned him with his pale blue eyes, as he said curtly, "You don't need to make a decision right now, Malfoy. I can wait as long as you need. I have no desire to force you into anything. But you should know that becoming my mate only requires sharing blood and having physical intimacy once. I will not make any great demands from you if you decide to become my mate."

He briefly glanced at Orion, before he focused back on Draco, his lips quirking downwards. "I only need someone who can spend some time in Zraven Citadel, acting as my mate in an official capacity, not in a personal or intimate one. For that, I only want Orion. Moreover, I wouldn't expect you to permanently reside here. You could spend half your time in the wizarding world, and half in the Citadel, at your convenience. Of course, if you showed interest in helping me rule, I wouldn't oppose it if you proved to have the skills for it."

"Lez's offer is more than generous, Draco," interjected Orion, lowering his voice to a persuasive, soothing tone.

Draco narrowed his silvery eyes at him, before he pointedly repeatedly closed and opened his magically gagged mouth.

Arching an eyebrow, Orion swiftly flicked his wrist, cancelling the spell, and Draco immediately bit out crisply, "I want to see the Lady of the Lake."

Lezander let out an amused chuckle. "You can want all you like, but she has no interest in talking to you. If she had, you would have already been brought to her."

"I'm as important as you, aren't I?" spat Draco angrily, glowering at them. "Us three and the Dark Lor-"

He clamped his mouth shut, and Orion could tell that Draco would never be calling Voldemort the 'Dark Lord' again, not after knowing the wizard's true halfblood identity, which obviously degraded the wizard in Draco's eyes.

Draco's lips contorted, and he continued sharply, "Us three and Voldemort are the last of the Peverell lines." His silvery eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at Orion. "The last of those of Mordred's line, your descendants in a way – which is quite twisted if you think about it." He briefly glanced at Lezander, and sneered at Orion, "Well, the halfbreed isn't your descendant, he's the Lady of the Lake's, so I suppose it isn't sick if you fuck him-"

"Spare me your vitriol, Draco," snapped Orion shortly. "What's your point?"

"My point is that I'm just as important as any of you!" bit out Draco angrily. "Calypso told me about the book written by the Lady of the Lake. I want to see it! Why shouldn't the Lady of the Lake take the time to persuade and convince me-"

"You're an attention-seeking little prick," interrupted Lezander sharply, his tone scathing and displeased. "It's not about you, but about Orion, Malfoy! He's the Vindico Atrum, and we are his companions. As simple as that-"

"Sperm donors, you mean!" spat Draco snidely. "And I wasn't talking to you, you filthy halfbreed. I was talking to Potter-"

Orion knocked Draco's head to a side with a hard slap to the young wizard's face, his restraint cracking under the pressure of his mounting anger and exasperation with him.

With a gasp, and a clear red imprint of Orion's hand on his pale cheek, Draco glanced back at him with wide, shocked eyes.

"You deserved that," hissed out Orion, eyes narrowed to slits. "Spit out 'Potter' as much as you like, since I know you're angry at me. But you'll do well to curb your tongue with Lez. Do not call him, again, a 'filthy halfbreed'. It's thanks to him that you're alive."

When he saw Draco's expression, the veiled hurt and pain in the silvery eyes, Orion deeply sighed and jerkily carded his fingers through his hair. He knew Draco well, and he also knew that he wasn't dealing with the young wizard in the most effective way. Draco was his most obnoxious and spiteful self when feeling vulnerable, threatened, or unsure of himself.

Moreover, he knew that Draco was feeling all those things given the precarious situation he was in. Waking up from a healing coma after being tortured to the brink of death by Voldemort, to find himself changed against his will and knowledge and no longer a pureblood in the strictest sense, added to being wanted by Aurors and hunted down by Death Eaters, with Voldemort after him to finish the job, and without the support of his parents, who couldn't give it to him or he would be found... Well, Draco was in a horrible situation, and Orion couldn't blame him for reacting to it in whatever way helped him best to blow off some steam.

He intently gazed into Draco's silvery eyes, and gently rubbed the red mark on the young wizard's cheek, as some sort of apology, and said softly, "I don't think the Kraljica Mati will see you, Draco. But you don't need to talk to her anyway. She would only tell you about the children, and Calypso informed you about everything already, I'm sure."

"She did," said Draco stiffly, remaining motionless on the floor, no longer attempting to do anything about the snakes still wrapped around his wrists and ankles, or about Orion sitting on top of him. "But that's exactly what you didn't mention before. The children. That's what you're really after. That's what you want from me – to have that daughter the Lady of the Lake told you about." He glanced at Lezander, and then gazed back at Orion, his expression souring and hardening. "And to have the other children as well. One with the half… with Zraven, and another with Voldemort-"

"It's not about the children. It wasn't at first," interrupted Orion with a tired sigh. "Even before I saw the Book, I already knew that I wanted Lez, you, and Voldemort." He gazed at Draco, and added with open honesty, "You know that I've always wanted Voldemort and Lezander. I had relationships with them before. And with you… well, it evolved. My attraction towards you wasn't always present, but it began at some point and grew. Perhaps due to our friendship and… well, the wanting intensified after I took some of your soul's essence. I won't lie to you. But the point is, that no matter the reason, I want to be with you and Lez-"

"Together, at the same time?" demanded Draco curtly, his face an emotionless mask. "Is that what you meant at first?"

"Yes," replied Orion simply, gauging him closely.

Draco's jaw clenched, and he darkly glowered at him. "And Voldemort?"

"I plan to be with him too," said Orion sincerely, shrugging his shoulders. "But what I do or don't do with him intimately is not something that I will ever discuss with you or Lez. It's my business not yours."

"I see," sneered Draco acidly. "So what, you get to have three fuck buddies and we all have to be happy with it? Don't you think it's sick, fucked up and unnatural, that you want to lay with three different wizards and have children with them?"

At Lezander's stony silence, Orion glanced at the vampire, surprised at both Draco's words and Lezander's reaction to them, which clearly conveyed that the vampire had had similar thoughts at some point.

A bit bewildered, he glanced at them, and finally said slowly, since he was deeply introspecting his own feelings and thoughts, "I only truly wanted the children after I saw the illustration of their faces and after the Kraljica Mati told me about them, about the things they could do and about their importance. But as for the other issue… yeah, perhaps it's not normal for me to want the three of you…" He slightly frowned. "Perhaps it's something induced by Gaia. She influenced me when I was ten years old, so she could have done it again, making me desire Voldemort when I was younger. But I… I don't really care what's the origin or cause."

Orion paused, and then shrugged unconcernedly. "It's not something I can change, and I'm Lezander's lifemate without any external interference. It's quite natural that I'm his lifemate, given the blood we carry. And I'm linked to you given that I took some of your soul's essence, and I'm linked to Voldemort because I'm his horcrux. Both were accidents, but they happened and affected us. So it matters little why I desire the three of you. The point is that I do, and the point is that you also want me. And it ties the four of us, the last with Peverell blood, all together. And I say that's rather significant."

He leaned forward, hovering over Draco to searchingly gaze at him. "And you like the idea of our daughter, don't you? You could produce no better or more powerful heir for the Malfoy line, surely you realize that. And you should know that she wouldn't only be your heir, but also mine, meaning that she'll inherit one of my fortunes. I have three fortunes and family names to pass on, and three children that I want to have, so each will inherit a legacy – Grindelwald, Black, or Potter."

Draco stared at him musingly, and finally drawled coolly, "I do like the idea of her. Impossible not to after what Calypso told me." His gaze warily flickered from Orion to Lezander and back, his jaw then clenching when he added stiffly, "But I wanted to be with you, not in a threesome relationship with a halfbre – a vampire." He shot Lezander a brief scowl, his intense dislike and disdain evident. "We've never gotten along and I don't intend to become a vampire's mate-"

"You shouldn't say that until you've taken the time to truly think about it, weighing the pros and cons," interjected Orion sternly, then waving a hand dismissively. "Anyway, we're not pressuring you to make a decision now." He smirked, and then his lips curved into a rakish grin. "So why don't you simply participate as much as you're willing to, for the time being? I promise you that Lez won't bite you or make you his mate until you're willing." He shot the young Rege a glance. "Right?"

Lezander silently nodded, looking a bit apprehensive now due to the turn of the conversation, which clearly marked a turn in what was going to happen between them in the immediate future. Orion arched an eyebrow and shot him a pointed, quizzical glance, wondering if the vampire was having cold feet now, if the young Rege was having second thoughts about including Draco.

Well, for his part, he thought that it could show Draco that there was nothing to fear. Perhaps Draco would feel more at ease if he saw that nothing harmful happened when Lezander completed the bond between them. And if he could make Draco participate, however slightly, even better. He had vouched to help Lezander get close to Draco, after all. And he knew that he would be the glue between them for quite a long while, since their personalities had always clashed and the only thing they had in common was their regard and longing for him.

Shooting them a nonchalant, carefree smile, he got up to his feet, and rather blatantly stretched out his back and limbs. He had a plan to put into action, and he would make the night productive, or his name wasn't Orion Black. He wasn't lying when he had told Calypso that he had come to several firm decisions, fully bonding with Lezander only one of them. And he would put the wheels in motion that very same night. The taste of Lezander's blood, after so long, had certainly spurred him and he was quite looking forward to what would happen.

"Do you mind?" sneered Draco caustically, pointedly glaring at the snakes binding him.

Orion devilishly smirked at him, a taunting glint in his green eyes. "You look good like that, Malfoy, all stretched out on the floor." His smirk widened, and he silkily hissed, knowing the effect parseltongue had on the young wizard, "_Pinned down by snakesss, ssslithering all around you… You make a very pretty picture. I think I'll have you tied up like that, in my bed, writhing with pleasure between Lezander and me, in no time at all. It will take me mere days to have you ready and willing in that exact position, I bet._"

A visible shiver ran over Draco's body, and the young wizard darkly glared at him, as he spat angrily, "Let me up, Potter, you little shit!"

"Orion…" sighed out Lezander, looking weary, with a glint of resignation in his eyes which gave Orion something to ponder about.

With a roll of his eyes and a careless wave of a hand, Orion vanished the snakes, and Draco was up on his feet in the next second, glowering indignantly with wounded pride, and seething.

But Orion didn't have any more patience to weather another one of Draco's tempestuous temper tantrums, and he quickly grabbed the wizard by his nape and crushed his lips against his. Startled, Draco's lips parted open under the forceful assault, and Orion wasted no time in plunging his tongue inside the young man's warm cavern, his tongue exploring every velvety and fleshy corner of the mouth.

He molded his body against Draco's slightly leaner one, tightly holding him in place as he deepened the kiss, while the wizard slowly started responding to him after coming out of his surprise. Since their heights were similar, it allowed Orion to shoot Lezander a pointed glance over Draco's shoulder, conveying what he wanted the vampire to do.

Lezander's eyebrows shot upwards, looking patently reluctant to initiate anything with Draco. And Orion almost bristled with annoyance, though he didn't break the kiss. But then he remembered that Draco would have never been Lezander's own choice for a mate. It was he who had unwittingly propitiated it by asking for Lezander's blood to safe Draco's life with it. So he couldn't be angry at the vampire for dragging his feet when the time came to start getting closer to Draco, even if it was Lezander's chosen 'solution' to their dilemma.

Well, Orion had come to terms with it, he was starting to see that perhaps he wouldn't mind at all to see them together, that indeed they looked rather fetching in the way their looks contrasted each other's. And the plan was in motion now, so the young Rege would simply have to buck up, plunge into it, and deliver.

So he narrowed his eyes at the vampire, and briskly gestured at him to come to them, while he sunk his other hand into Draco's platinum hair. Orion groaned with pleasure into the kiss as Draco's hair felt like silk threads between his fingers, and he felt Draco's hitched and repressed moan, answering his groan, and his lips curved upwards between their meshed mouths.

He even felt the hard bulge underneath Draco's robes, and a flare of arousal flashed through him as he thought of himself ravishing Draco, who looked all snottily prim and proper in his elegant clothes of pureblood fashion, with his beautiful and unique silvery eyes half-lidded, his plush lips becoming puffed and tender under the aggressive and demanding kiss, his usually neatly groomed platinum hair now messy and sticking up in all directions as Orion kept carding his fingers through it.

However, no matter how much Orion was deeply enjoying what he considered his first true experience with Draco, he kept his wits together and jumped into action the moment Lezander stood by their side, the idiot looking as if he didn't know what to do with himself. Or rather, not particularly wanting to do anything. Well, Orion wasn't allowing that. With the hand he didn't have entangled in Draco's hair, he gently pulled Lezander face towards theirs, and in one swift, quick motion, he parted his lips from Draco's and pushed Lezander's head into place, making the vampire's mouth press against Draco's.

Orion saw Lezander's eyes widening, as the vampire shot him a glance that had both anger and wariness in it. But the vampire didn't dare to pull away under Orion's narrowed and watchful gaze, and he gave into the kiss with Draco, who didn't seem to be aware of the smooth change that had occurred, his silvery eyes still half-lidded and unfocused. And as he watched how Lezander tentatively wrapped his arms around Draco, Orion felt a flicker of satisfaction and accomplishment, a sense of rightness, and a deep feeling of desire and arousal mixed with contentment which rather surprised him, due to the latter, since he had expected a spark of jealously instead.

But none of it kept him from fully appreciating the scene before him, and it almost stole his breath away. Draco and Lezander looked incredibly amazing together. Draco was glorious, perfection, and quite frankly the most beautiful young man he had ever seen. He was beautiful in the way he was fair with his platinum hair, silvery eyes, pale complexion, chiseled features, and lean body. His face was manly yet also had delicate touches, the perfect blend of Narcissa's and Lucius' features.

On the other hand, Lezander was handsome, with a stronger constitution, broader, more muscled and toned, and much taller than them. Lezander was a mix of dark and light, with black long hair that seemed to have dark crimson streaks under the candlelights, that shadowed darkness contrasting with his exotic slanted eyes with pale blue irises and with the smooth whiteness of his skin, added to his regal features, the high cheekbones and straight nose. And the both of them together simply seemed to exalt each other's unique and differing beauty.

There was only one thing which didn't fit. Orion was still only wearing his black boxers, and Lezander only his pants, while Draco was fully dressed. Orion solved that quickly with a mere flick of his wand, and all clothes flew away from Draco, leaving him only in his underwear. And he could only impishly grin when Draco jumped when he felt the air on his naked skin. Now Draco was evidently aware of the switch that had happened, and he was angrily fisting his hands, his narrowed silvery eyes snapping from Lezander to Orion, as if assessing who was the perpetrator of the crime and quite ready to spat out the most sneeringly hateful remarks he could come up with.

Orion quickly took a step to wrap his arms around both of their waists, pressing them together, and he leaned towards Draco, trailing soothing, gentle kisses along the column of Draco's neck.

"Don't say anything," he murmured into Draco's ear, nibbling the lobe and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. "Tonight, no more fights or arguments. Just feel, enjoy, and do as little or as much as you feel like, while Lezander and I-" he glanced at the vampire and shot him a wide, warm smile "- make love to each other and bond."

He didn't give him time to say anything, though Draco seemed a bit overwhelmed and uncertain as Orion grabbed both their hands and pulled them towards the bed. Lezander, on the other hand, was now solely focused on him, making Orion feel as if he was being devoured by the heated pale blue gaze that intensely and slowly roved over him.

Nevertheless, Draco seemed to make a quick recovery to his usual self, since he was now poisonously glaring at Lezander, having been kissed unawares by the vampire, and enjoying it, being evidently something more he would hold against the young Rege. Draco's face was now a mask of disgust, as he observed them with a chilly and scornful expression.

Yet, the young wizard sat there on the bed, without making any attempt to leave. Thus, Orion knew that however much Draco tried to hide it, the wizard was interested, even if it went against his conscious will. And Orion caught a glimpse of veiled, hot desire in Draco's eyes, as the wizard's gaze remained fixed on him while Lezander gently lowered him on the bed and smoothly rolled on top.

Orion felt… strange, in the most exquisite and fascinating of ways. He felt Draco's lustful, heated, and longing gaze on him, and Lezander's appreciative, hungry, and loving one. Both intense, both solely focused on him, and it made his flesh tingle, goosebumps rose on his skin, and a wave of sizzling arousal flared throughout his body. It was the most bizarrely erotic situation he had been in, since he had never expected to feel so fired up by the mere knowledge of being watched by someone he was attracted to while he had sex with someone else he also desired.

Indeed, he started realizing that what he was feeling at the moment had to be what true threesomes were all about. With a feeling of drunken-like giddiness, he wondered why on earth he hadn't done it before. Why didn't everyone on the planet do this on daily basis? Oh, he couldn't care less about moral principles, the feeling was divine: to be so fully and intensely desired by two people he loved, at the same time. It made a delicious shiver run down his spine.

He was all for 'living the moment', though it wasn't something he would tell Lezander or Draco since he didn't want to worry them, given that the idea stemmed from Gellert's grim warnings. The wizard had often told him to enjoy every little thing he could, without restraints, now that he could, because later, after becoming the VA, there would be 'no mate, no equal, no love, the VA's path is one of darkness, pain, and solitude'. Those words, which Gellert had told him the very first time they met, and often repeated, were branded in his skull.

Indeed, he knew the Vindico's Ultimate Test would change him. And he knew that even before it, he would be changed when he underwent the Necromantic training with the Argonaut. He didn't know what kind of wizard, or 'being', he would become. One apparently closed off to all emotions, if he believed other's suppositions. But the point was that he was on borrowed time, and he would enjoy himself and the warmth of those he loved, as much as he could, until the time came.

He didn't feel somber, dejected, or depressed about it. He simply felt the fervent need to live to the fullest during these few months he had left. Because soon, he would have to seek out the Argonaut. Loki had told him that the Necromancer wouldn't wait forever. And he rather go to the man than be abruptly taken away by him.

All further thoughts flew from his mind when he felt that his boxers were being pulled down his legs, as Lezander placed biting kisses across his chest. And Orion suddenly noticed, among other things, that the vampire was utterly naked, the pants having been shed off Circe knew when. He also noticed that the room seemed to be charged with a heavy, dense fog of need, desire and passion. Or perhaps that's what he and Lezander were feeling at the moment, though he caught a glimpse of Draco, looking as enticed and entranced as they were, scooting closer to them.

Orion didn't quite know what was happening. Was this some kind of hypnotizing vampire power that Lezander was able to exude and which was affecting them? It had to be unwittingly, because he didn't think the vampire would do it on purpose. He wasn't the type to manipulate against other's wills. Or perhaps it was simply their shared lust affecting them. He had heard about stuff like that. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the compounded effect of the blood bond calling to him, added with his own link to Draco's soul, since the wizard was being affected too.

Oh, but he didn't care to find the reason. He felt Lezander biting his neck, once more drinking from him, this time leisurely, slowly, seemingly savoring in his palate every drop of his blood, as if it were the most exquisite of wines. He felt waves of pleasure coursing from the bite and rolling over him like mantles of warmth and heady elation. He felt Lezander's naked arousal rubbing against his, making him arch his back, groan, and cross his legs over the vampire's lower back, pulling him tighter against him.

He felt moist, plush lips on his, a tongue invading his mouth, plunging deeply and undulating against his own tongue. And he realized it was Draco who was kissing him, since Lezander was still suckling his neck. He started feeling weak and dizzy from the blood loss, but the pleasure and bliss was too intense for him to care. He trusted Lezander not to drain him to the point of death, because he knew that was only done when turning someone into a vampire. And Lezander was aware that he didn't want to go so far. He would certainly lose his vital alliance with the werewolves if he was turned.

Orion felt as if he was surrounded and pleasantly smothered in cotton clouds. He distantly felt a familiar sensation tingling inside him, a lubricating charm having been cast. And he glanced around with dazed, heavily lidded eyes, seeing Draco slowly pulling away from their kiss, blinking and looking surprised at his own actions. But the young wizard didn't look angry or disgusted anymore. He looked entranced by what was happening, his silvery eyes intensely fixed on him.

And then, when he felt as if he was going to pass out, his mind foggy and lazily sluggish, he felt something hard and warm entering him, slowly filling him, inch by inch, gently, carefully, lovingly. There was no pain, nothing but sheer pleasure, the slow beating of his heart and the decreasing pumping rate of his blood.

And it was the most wonderful sensation he had ever felt. He peered up at Lezander then, seeing the vampire leaving his neck, the lips stained red. And then the vampire clutched him against his chest and fully sheathed himself inside him, making Orion loudly moan and tighten his legs and arms around the vampire with the scarce strength he could muster. He felt Lezander's arousal throbbing deeply inside him, stretching him deliciously, making him feel as if he had finally clicked into place with something grander than himself. Their bodies fully joined as Lezander started to slowly pull in and out of him, the rhythm lulling and gentle, yet it also felt deep, claiming, and profound.

He saw a small blade being conjured, and Lezander brought it to his own neck, making a cut there. The vampire's pale blue eyes bore into his green ones, and Lezander leaned forward to whisper into his ear, "Your turn, inima mea. This is the sharing of blood."

Orion didn't have to think about it twice. He wrapped his arms around the vampire's shoulders and brought his lips to the wound, first licking the trails of blood that trickled down. When he tasted Lezander's blood, as he remembered happening a long time ago, it felt as if he could savor the dark magic in it, and it was exquisite. It felt addictive, and woke in him a deep, yearning hunger.

Now he knew why he coveted it so much, when any other normal person would dislike the taste of blood. It was Peverell blood, the Lady of the Lake's own blood coursing through Lezander. Voldemort's had always also felt addictive and delicious, and even more than Lezander's, since Voldemort's magical power was certainly greater than the vampire's. But the taste was still similar. And he was certain that Draco's blood would have the same effect on him. Indeed, it was all about Peverell blood calling to Peverell blood. Dark magic calling to kin dark magic. It was what ultimately bound the four of them.

Suddenly, as he gave way to the increasing, inexorable hunger he felt and sunk his teeth into the cut in Lezander's neck and deeply suckled from it, he noticed that his body was thrumming with dark magic. His aura rushing, pulsing, and vibrating all around him.

And he distantly realized that it had been his raw dark magic charging the room and affecting them. It was unleashed, unrestrained, yet placidly thrumming, conveying his own needs, wants, and desires. It was winding around them, as if velvety, pulsing black ribbons were tying the three of them together. And Orion felt he could almost burst with the intense feeling of utter belonging that seemed to be filling him beyond capacity.

He felt waves of energy splashing throughout him, while he felt increasingly stronger, more powerful, more vibrant, his magic more animated, as he kept suckling blood from Lezander, as it coursed and rushed through his veins, giving him back what Lezander had taken and then passed back. It was a true, complete 'sharing', as the vampire had called it.

Lezander's gentle, deep thrusts into him were slowing down, and Orion felt how the vampire above him was weakening, his arms trembling with effort to keep himself hovering over Orion. But now Orion, with Lezander's blood coursing through him, felt as if he could lift the world on his shoulders, like Atlas himself. And he instantly pulled away from Lezander's neck, lapping the wound which soon started to knit itself close.

He wanted nothing more than to slam Lezander down against the bed and utterly ravish him, take him deeply and hard. But he saw that the vampire was tired from the draining of blood, he felt Lezander's arousal softening inside of him, due to it. And even though neither of them had reached a peaking climax, the pleasure had been constant and just as consuming and devouring as if they had physically spent themselves.

Orion deeply kissed Lezander, tasting his own blood in the vampire's lips and mouth, as he gently rolled him to a side.

"It's a process, dragostea mea. It must be done thrice," murmured Lezander with a tender smile curving his blood-stained lips, gazing at him through his eyelashes, his eyes almost closed shut. "Let me rest for a few minutes, and we'll continue."

Orion nodded, and stretched himself alongside the vampire's body, trailing caressing fingers through Lezander's long, black hair, quite unabashedly pampering him.

And suddenly he noticed it: the blue flame in his mind that represented his link to Draco through the mark he had branded him with. It was flaring, and he felt a rush of vague emotions, as if they were coming from it: pain, solitude, longing, jealousy, desire - it was a mesh of it all.

His green eyes slowly widened as he peeked at Draco over the curve of Lezander's chest. The young wizard had an emotionless mask on his face, expressing nothing, and certainly not knowing what he was blasting off. And Orion knew then that under normal circumstances he wouldn't possibly be feeling any of Draco's emotions through the mark. Calypso hadn't added that property when creating the spell for it.

He realized that it was happening due to the dark magic infusing the room, which was clearly heightening his own links and bonds with both Draco and Lezander. His raw dark magic was still permeating the room, placidly thrumming around them, like soft puffs of black smoke, while his own dark aura swirled lazily and contently over his body, like a second skin.

Given what he was feeling coming from Draco, he realized then what he needed to do. He had to drag Draco into what they were creating; to keep excluding him would only be counterproductive. It had to be done without any sharing of blood or physical intimacy between Draco and Lezander, that was for sure. It was clear to him that neither of them were ready or willing to go that far, yet. Their mutual dislike for each other would take some time to erode.

But he had to make Draco see that what they were offering to him was the best, that it gave Draco limitless possibilities if he would only see it and realize how to use it.

Orion slowly climbed over Lezander's resting and prone form, and he crawled over the bed and stretched like a cat besides Draco, casually placing himself between his lovers, since they were both certainly that now.

Draco eyed him with a modicum of suspicion, but didn't say a word. The young wizard seemed to be in a musing and contemplative mood.

"Did you enjoy watching?" said Orion nonchalantly, shooting him a wide grin as he scooted closer to him.

Draco snidely scoffed, but otherwise remained silent, peeling his silvery gaze from Orion's nude form to glance at some vacant spot on the nearest stone wall.

"Come, confess, I've always known that you have perverted voyeuristic tendencies. The things I've heard that go on in Slytherin House-"

"You're the prowling sexual deviant here, Potter, not I," drawled Draco with a disdainful sniff. "And no Slytherin would have ever disclosed any secrets of their House."

"You think Snape never found out?" said Orion with a snort, propping his head on one hand as he used the other to trail his fingertips over Draco's left wrist.

Draco's head snapped around to pierce him with his eyes, a flicker of alarm in them, before he masked his reaction, and said coolly, "Snape doesn't know anything. And if he did, he wouldn't have told you or anyone else. He has always been loyal to Slytherin House."

"Well, I know that you've done stuff with Blaise Zabini in the Potions classroom after curfew, because it thrilled you to 'taint' and 'besmirch' Snape's sanctuary," said Orion tauntingly, widely grinning at him, his fingertips slowly climbing up Draco's left forearm. "Tell me about that."

"Fuck, Potter, I don't know where you've heard about that, but I'm not telling you about what Blaise and I have done. You're seriously twisted in the head-"

"I'm not 'twisted', you prick," snapped Orion, darkly scowling at him. "I'm trying to get you interested. And when are you going to stop calling me 'Potter', for Merlin's sake."

"When I feel that you've made it up to me. It could take years, mind you," bit out Draco tartly. He narrowed his silvery eyes at him. "And you're trying to make me interested in what?"

"Well, not interested, exactly, but in the mood," said Orion, widely smirking at him, seconds before he clamped his hand over the Black mark on Draco's left forearm.

Draco's eyes flew wide open as he frantically attempted to jerk his arm away. "DON'T! I swear to you, Orion, if you even try to-"

Orion swiftly muffled his words by rolling over Draco and smashing their mouths together, while he put all his efforts into sending waves upon waves of pleasure into Draco through the mark, much like he had once done, though much fainter, to Roman Komorov through the wizard's VA mark on the nape.

And the moment Draco's back arched and lifted off the bed and his deep moan was lost in their kiss, Orion knew he was succeeding. Succeeding and exceeding all expectations it seemed, because Draco was trembling, the young wizard's silvery eyes glazed over, became unfocused, and then rolled up, and a hard bulge was pressing against Orion's stomach.

Orion swiftly made short work of Draco's underwear, vanishing it with a wave of his hand, and then wedged himself in between the wizard's legs, trailing kisses along Draco's neck until he reached his ear.

He momentarily halted the stream of pleasure he was sending through the mark, and whispered huskily, "I know you've never bottomed before, but let me take you. Remember, like I wanted to do in Slytherin's private study in the Chamber of Secrets? We almost did it then. Will you allow me, will you trust me?"

Draco groaned, and his eyes slowly fluttered open, as he said hoarsely, "Fine, but stop the thing with the mark... it's too much. And if it hurts, I have the right to crucio you later, and you'll take it."

"Deal," said Orion, grinning triumphantly. "But you shouldn't be such a wimp, sexual pain feels good, Drakey."

"Voldemort taught you that, Potter?" spat Orion sneeringly, a poisonous tone in his voice, as he darkly glared at him.

"He did," said Orion unabashedly, his grin rakishly widening. "Someday I'll teach you how to use a controlled Cruciatus Curse in the sack, Malfoy. And here I thought I would be the most inexperienced one, given your reputation as the Slytherin Prince who shagged half of Hogwarts."

"Only the better and worthier half, Potter. Now get on with it, and leave my arm alone," said Draco sharply, safely tugging his left arm away from Orion's clutches. His gaze flickered to a side, and he added acidly, "And what about the halfbre- about Zraven? I don't want a bloody audience if I'm going to be buggered, Potter. Either he leaves or-"

"He's going to join in," interrupted Orion placidly, shooting a pointed glance at Lezander who was seating up on the bed, staring at him, looking perplexed and then alarmed by the suggestion.

"Hell no!" spat Draco angrily, trying to shove Orion off him.

"Merlin's staff, I'm not suggesting what you think," snapped Orion impatiently, forcing the wizard to keep still, while feeling as if his bottled up stamina and desire was about to make him explode.

He was still feeling the effects of having taken Lezander's blood, and he felt he would die if he didn't finally find any release. It was mounting and growing inside him. And he decided that he would show them what he wanted to do with actions instead of words, or it would take forever to come to an agreement.

"Trust me," he murmured quietly, boring his eyes into Draco's silvery ones, before he locked their mouths together and started to soothingly and gently trail his fingertips over Draco's body, feeling him slowly relax under his touch.

He took his time and massaged Draco's muscles until they felt like butter under his fingers, while he felt the air becoming heavy with his dark magic once more, affecting him and Draco as well, he dare say. The heady sensations started swamping all over him, and he quickly accioed his wand from wherever he had dropped it and wasted no time in casting a lubricating charm.

Orion distracted Draco with a deep, ravenous kiss, while he started pressing a finger into the young wizard's puckered entrance. It all spiraled upwards from henceforth, actions, sensations, and emotions clouding and fogging his mind, as he prepared Draco, adding more fingers, slowly stretching him, as Draco's short nails sunk into his shoulder, grasping him tightly. Then, he slowly pushed inside the young wizard, rocking in small circles when he had sheathed himself completely, not thrusting yet, to give the wizard time to adjust.

Though, it took Orion considerable effort. He had never felt such hot tightness around him, encasing him so completely. He had to grit his teeth in order to not lose himself and start pounding brutally into Draco. It was nothing like what he had experienced with Rabastan Lestrange, the only other time he had ever topped. With Draco, when he had pushed into him, each inch of resistance was followed by an exquisite sensation of yielding. Draco's squeezing heat clenching tightly around his length, in such a way that it was almost maddening.

Finally, with a sigh of pure bliss, Orion slowly pulled out, almost entirely, and then pushed back in, slowing picking up speed, changing his angle until he saw a jolt of pleasure making Draco arch off the bed. He devilishly grinned down at the moaning wizard, and started to hit that very same spot, again and again, his rhythm picking up when Draco started to demandingly buck up into his thrusts.

Orion let out a chuckle, plunging deep and hard into the wizard, as he leaned down to hiss huskily into Draco's ear, "_You like it rough, Drakey… Who would have thought, given your earlier whines about pain-_"

"Potter, you bastard," gritted out Draco, his eyes glazing over as a shiver ran through his body, while Orion felt him clenching spasmodically around his length, making him groan. "Don't use parseltongue, you git…"

Orion, of course, ignored him, since the reactions of Draco's body were simply delicious, and he started hissing every dirty little thing he could think of, while he slowed down his thrusts, not wanting it to be over yet.

When he suddenly felt someone behind him, fingers running down his spine, Orion sighed with pleasure and shot Lezander a smile over his shoulder, glad that the vampire had cottoned on and finally decided to participate. Lezander's eyes were heated with desire and intent, so when Orion went back to steal a kiss from Draco's lips, he wasn't surprised when he felt Lezander's sharp teeth sinking into his neck while the vampire slowly breached him from behind.

For a moment, Draco stilled under Orion, the silvery eyes suspiciously glancing at them. But the young wizard seemed to relax when he saw that Lezander was solely interested in Orion and wouldn't be doing anything to him.

After that, it all seemed to mesh together in Orion's mind. Moans, groans, grunts and ragged breathing mixed with the sound of flesh slapping rhythmically against flesh, and with the sound of the pump of his heart and the rush of blood through his veins, while he felt completely surrounded and consumed by warmth and heat, embraced by Draco's hot tightening passage, and utterly filled by Lezander at the same time. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

There were hands, lips, caresses on him, everywhere. Draco's arms around his shoulders, Lezander's embracing him from behind, around his chest and waist, or grabbing his hips to pound into him, making him slam into Draco. And Draco's lips on his mouth, Lezander's on his nape and down his spine. Then, Draco's legs stretching along the sides of Orion's hips, reaching to cross his ankles over Lezander's lower back, pushing Lezander deeper into Orion, and thus him deeper into Draco, making the three of them moan at the same time.

And he shared his blood with Lezander and took the vampire's, two more times, while the three of them learned how to move together till reaching perfect synchrony, Draco controlling the rhythm with his ankles, pushing Lezander into quickening his thrusts into Orion, making him slam into Draco, like a chain reaction, fervently increasing speed until they were a mass of writhing and shivering bodies encompassed by maddening, ravaging waves of sheer pleasure. It became an overload of exploding, spiraling sensations which seemed to devour them and make them drown in an ocean of ecstatic bliss.

* * *

As sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains in the room, Orion woke up to find himself trapped between two bodies, arms and legs all placidly entangled with each other's, with Lezander molded and draped against his back, and Draco at his front, the platinum head resting on his arm.

They seemed to fit perfectly, and he was encompassed by a profound and deep feeling of belonging and simply love, since he couldn't find any other word to describe it. Furthermore, he was ridiculously happy, brimming with joy, elation, pure contentment and utterly satiated satisfaction. He wanted to die like this, some day. Exactly like this. Nothing could ever compare to it.

He sighed contently and slowly stretched out his limbs, making Draco grumble and roll to a side, freeing his arm. And Orion sniggered under his breath, since the boy looked thoroughly ravaged, debauched and exhausted. Then, he paused in mid chuckle, a bit perplexed. His senses seemed to be even keener than before, which he had expected since he must have acquired a bit more of vampiric traits after completing the bond. But what gave him pause was a strange sensation in his mouth.

Carefully rising from the bed without waking up his lovers, he made way to the full-body mirror at one corner of his bedroom. There, he glanced at himself, and first noticed the bite mark on his neck. He gently rubbed it.

The last time Lezander had bitten him, when they had been about to bond before they had been interrupted by Calypso, it had taken months for the mark to fade. Now, he knew this one would never disappear. The collar of a shirt would easily hide it, since it was at the base of his neck, but he rather liked it. And he wasn't going to keep it a secret anyway.

Finally, remembering his initial reason for going up to the mirror, he opened his mouth to inspect it, and gaped at his reflection.

Suddenly, arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and Lezander nipped his neck. "Good mornin', dragostea mea. How do you feel?"

Orion tilted his head to glance at him, and gestured at his parted mouth. "You didn't tell me this would happen."

"You should have expected some outward change," murmured Lezander calmly, nuzzling his face into Orion's hair and deeply inhaling. "It could have been anything. I wasn't quite sure which would happen."

"I have tiny, pointy fangs!"

"You'll be able to break through skin with them much more easily than with normal, blunt teeth," said Lezander, continuing to nuzzle Orion's neck from behind, chuckling when he gazed at Orion's reflection in the mirror. "You look like a cute little kitten with them."

"I rather look like a fierce lion," said Orion with a scathing scoff. "Or better yet, a poisonous basilisk, because a lion is simply disgustingly Gryffindorish."

"You have your wyvern animagus form to feel more Slytherin, dragoste mea. You can't complain."

"And Calypso wants me to learn how to turn into a small fox or a lizard," groused out Orion with a roll of his eyes. "She's loaded me with a bunch of stuff to do. Plus, I'm still not finished revising for my PRIMEs. I'll never find the time to do everything. Sometimes I wish the time-turner hadn't broken…"

He turned around in the vampire's arms, and gazed up at him, touching his changed canines pensively. "They are not like yours. They're much smaller. I can't retract or elongate them like you do, can I?"

"No," said Lezander, cocking his head to a side, a smile slowly curving his lips. "If you want teeth like mine I would have to turn you. The offer still stands if you change your mind."

"I'll pass," said Orion dryly.

"What are you two idiots doing? Come back to bed - it's cold in this ghastly place… don't even have proper warming charms… and where are the bloody house-elves to light the fireplace? Don't have proper servants… a disgrace…" grumbled Draco sleepily, flopping to a side on the bed, already back asleep in the next second with a last snide scoff.

Orion chuckled under his breath, shot Lezander a mischievous glance, and then lurched forwards to leap on top of Draco, to wake him up in the most delicious of ways.

The next few hours passed by very entertainingly in Orion's opinion. Draco still called him 'Potter' and more often than not glared at him, though didn't refuse any intimate advances, the sly thing. While Lezander was frequently the target of Draco's venomous looks and belittling remarks, which the vampire seemed to take in stride and rather dismissively.

Orion did notice, however, that Draco had learned his lesson and didn't utter 'filthy halfbreed' anymore. And he also detected the way Draco surreptitiously glanced at Lezander every now and then, musingly and with a glint of shrewd calculation in his silvery eyes. For that, Orion was grateful, since it indicated that the young wizard was seriously considering what they had told him.

Furthermore, even if Draco bickered, complained, and all together made an unmanageable nuisance of himself, the young wizard was comfortable and at ease with them, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Grinning, Orion attributed it to the night of utter debauchery they had shared. Now, Lezander could touch Draco, grabbing his arm to pull him along as he showed the wizard around the Citadel, and Draco wouldn't jump in alarm fearing to be sucked dry by the vampire or forced into becoming a mate.

Draco was still disdainful towards the young Rege, but no longer as obnoxious as before. And after meeting Râzvan Zraven, Draco had apparently quickly decided to not show his scorn for vampires again and to never outwardly show or express his prejudices - at least whilst in the Citadel.

That was a meeting which Orion had thoroughly enjoyed, and almost wished he had popcorn in his hands as he had observed the way Râzvan and Mireilla had greeted the newest guest in their home. Lezander's mother had welcomed Draco most amiably, and she had been utterly thrilled and joyous when Lezander told them they had completed the bond. Râzvan, for his part, had remained his typical cold and stern self, but hadn't said a word about it, though it was evident that he wasn't pleased. Quite clearly, the vampire still thought that Orion, given who he was, could bring nothing but danger and trouble to his son, lifemate or not.

Nevertheless, what made Orion skip with cheerfulness was that, in Râzvan's eyes, he was no longer the most bothersome of pests. Indeed, when Lezander had introduced Draco to Râzvan, the vampire had looked down at the young pureblood as if Draco was a bug to be squashed under his boot. And for once, Draco had held his tongue, doing his best not to look intimidated by the older vampire, as he evidently was. In the end, Râzvan had looked resigned with his son's choices, without putting in a negative word, and quite clearly having decided to go along with whichever outcome would come from his son's newly developed relationships.

Cyprian's reaction had been quite different, surely due to the circumstances in which the Zraven Commander had been apprised of the recent events. Indeed, the vampire had gone looking for his young Rege, since the hour approached to get ready for the meeting in Malfoy Manor, with werewolves included, which made a muscle in his jaw twitch – and which twitched twice more when thinking of who would be hosting the meeting. When the vampire finally found his Rege, it was in the bathroom of Orion's chambers, where Lezander was placidly soaking in the large bathtub while Orion, butt naked like the other two, was wrestling with Draco and chasing him around, trying to get him inside the bathtub as well, to have his wicked way with them again.

Orion had to give it to the Zraven Commander – he was a stoic, unflappable one. Cyprian had taken one look at Orion's neck, another at the sputtering Draco, and had said calmly, "I see." The vampire had then simply glanced at Lezander, and had said solemnly, "One hour, my Rege."

And with that, the vampire had calmly stridden out the room, as if seeing his Rege cavorting with naked, prancing young men was an everyday occurrence.

In the end, Lezander and Orion had left much earlier than that. Lezander had appointed the chambers next to Orion's to Draco, and Orion had finally persuaded the young pureblood to accept making the Citadel his new hiding place. Draco was free to come and go, with the use of the portkey pebble or just apparition. So that he could go to Rosier Manor to participate in the DA practice sessions and then to Potter Manor to resume in the evenings his private Dark Arts lessons with Calypso's father.

Furthermore, Lezander had offered Draco to take part in Orion's training at the Citadel, but the young wizard had merely stated that he would think about it. Nevertheless, Orion was glad that Draco had accepted to make the Citadel his new residence. It was much safer for Draco than any wizarding manor and it would also help the wizard come closer to Lezander, lose his prejudice against vampires and begin to understand their ways.

At last, they had left Draco behind, to do whatever he pleased in his new quarters in the Citadel, and Orion had pulled Lezander and Cyprian into a side-along apparition into Potter Manor.

* * *

There, Lezander was received by cries of joy. Calypso had the Elite waiting for Orion in the main parlor, all dressed up and ready with orders and instructions, to participate for the first time in a meeting of the Dark side as Orion's 'Inner Circle'. But all poise had been thrown to the wind when Viktor, Kara and Evander laid eyes on their long lost friend, joyous but also surprised, since the initial plan had been to meet Lezander at Malfoy Manor and not before. Plan that Orion had changed at the last moment, deciding Lezander would enjoy seeing his friends before the meeting, in a place where they could be themselves.

Lezander was swamped by their hugs, making him smile widely, as a tearful Kara gushed and warmly embraced him, while Evander patted him repeatedly on the back, blubbering something or other, looking as affected as his betrothed, and whilst Viktor crushed the vampire in a one-armed hug, loudly laughing.

Orion had one second to smile at the scene, before he himself was surrounded and welcomed by the rest of the Elite. Excepting Titania, they hadn't seen him in a long while, just before everything had gone pear-shaped with the Death Eater breach of Hogwarts. Yet, however evidently glad and happy they were to have him back with them, he noticed the change in their attitudes.

It was something he had expected but which nonetheless saddened him a bit, even if he knew it was inevitable. Indeed, they were much more formal with him, a clear distance set between them and him, as a form of respect and admiration for someone considered to be superior.

However, that didn't prevent them from firing questions at him. Primarily, they wanted to know about Grindelwald. About his reason for killing the wizard when they had gone through so much trouble to rescue the man from Nurmengard. Fascinated and looking at him, and at his dark aura, with glinting eyes, they wanted to know how it was possible that he was Grindelwald's grandson. They asked all sort of questions which he knew Calypso had already answered in his behalf, and which he now had to give answers consisting in half-truths.

In the midst of it, he caught sight of Calypso shooting him a very pointed glance, and which he understood immediately. It was clear that she was trying to convey that he needed to tell them the truth soon, revealing the VA matter. And that he shouldn't keep postponing the branding ceremony only for her sake. And given the discovery of the existence of the Illuminati, Orion knew that she was right, that he couldn't afford to postpone to mark his followers.

He nodded at her, deciding to do it two weeks from then, a day before the attacks of August the first, precisely on his birthday, when he would turn seventeen and finally come of age. It would be a very significant date in which to do it, and it appealed to him.

At the umpteenth time that one of them addressed him as 'my Lord', Orion finally interjected, a bit annoyed, asking them to drop it and call him 'Orion' as always. That sparked quite a lot of complaints, and it was finally Kasimir who settled the matter.

The young Russian wizard was always one to zealously follow and uphold dark pureblood tradition and protocol. "Fine, you'll be 'Orion' to us when we're like this-" he gestured at the group "- friends chatting. But you'll be 'my Lord' or 'Lord Black' in every other situation. It's only proper, especially after the whole Grindelwald business."

Orion gave a resigned nod, but before any of them could fire another question, he heard Lezander's soft, quite voice.

"Aren't you going to greet me, Calypso?"

At that, Orion pulled away from the throng of his followers to see clearly, frowning when he saw that, indeed, Calypso hadn't yet gone to Lezander. The vampire was still standing with Kara, Evander and Viktor, who were now also gazing at Calypso wonderingly and with puzzlement. And Lezander was looking confused and a little bit hurt. Understandingly, since the rest of the Elite had been simple school acquaintances of Lezander, without him knowing them well, but Kara, Evander, Viktor and Calypso had been his closest friends, forming a tight-knit group with Orion – the Durmstrang Six, once upon a time.

Calypso just stood in the midst of the rest of the Elite, looking nervous and jittery, wringing her hands while gazing at Lezander. But she didn't move, and finally it was Lezander who started to approach her.

"I don't get a hug, Scaly?" said Lezander with a big, soft smile, stretching out his arms. "It's been a long time, this is no way to greet a friend!"

When Calypso remained rooted in place, a flicker of alarm crossing her expression, Orion finally remembered, and interjected with a roll of his eyes, "It's got nothing to do with you, Lez, I'm sure. She hasn't allowed anyone to hug her in ages." He shot her a brief miffed glance. "I told you, remember?"

"Ah, yes…" trailed off Lezander, frowning and continuing in his way towards her.

Calypso shot the vampire an apologetic look, and then warmly smiled at him. "I'm truly happy to see you, and looking so well, Lez."

"I'm happy to see you too-"

Abruptly, when the vampire was but a mere step away from her, he paused, his eyes widened, and he stared fixedly at her. Orion's gaze was snapping from one to the other, befuddled. Calypso's eyes were wide, alarmed and apprehensive, while she nervously bit down on her lower lip, intensely boring her gaze into Lezander's, as if trying to convey something to the vampire. And Lezander was now gaping at her.

Orion stepped forward until he was by their side, scrutinizing them, as he finally demanded sharply, "Alright, what's going on here?"

Some sort of frantic squeak issued from Calypso's lips, and Lezander instantly said coolly, regaining his composure, "Nothing."

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" bit out Orion bristling, glowering at the both of them. "It is something-"

"It's nothing," snapped Lezander, clamping a hand tightly around Orion's forearm, digging his fingers painfully into Orion's flesh.

At the vampire's utterly uncharacteristic behavior, Orion gaped at him, only to be shot a hard glance, as Lezander said sharply, "You wanted to see Voldemort before the beginning of the meeting, right? So go now. We'll be at Malfoy Manor in thirty minutes." He glanced at Calypso, and added sternly, "And you and I are going to have a chat after the meeting, Scaly."

Calypso mutely nodded at him, looking resigned with her fate.

"Fine," said Orion shortly, narrowing his eyes at them. "But I'm going to know once and for all what's up with you, Calypso, because obviously Lezander has figured it out." He shot Lezander a pointed glance. "The three of us will be having the conversation after the meeting."

Lezander nodded in agreement, and Orion shot them one last stern glance before he popped away, leaving Lezander to reacquaint himself with the Elite and happily chat with Evander, Kara, and Viktor, with Cyprian, as always, flanking the vampire, alert and on guard, like the best of protectors.

* * *

"_I find it hard to believe that you visited Bagshot to know more about your grandfather – a wizard you killed yourself._"

Orion shot Voldemort a short-tempered scowl.

The moment he had apparated into Malfoy Manor he had found the wizard in what used to be Lucius' study, with a glass of wine in one hand, seated on a leather couch, with legs indolently and elegantly crossed, and with the air of someone awaiting for a lackey to arrive, as if Orion wanting to see him before the meeting was a foregone conclusion. Presumptuous bastard.

And just that morning he had been feeling so carefree and happy, but now after the whole Calypso business, and after finding Voldemort in a rather peculiar mood, Orion felt not only on edge but also irked and short-tempered. However, that wouldn't do whilst being in Voldemort's presence, so he forced himself to think happy thoughts and calm down.

He had already informed Voldemort about the Illuminati, without mentioning Ragnarok or anything regarding the Vindico matter, of course. And he didn't say anything about their origins either, since saying anything about Merlin was too close at home with Morgana, Mordred, and the Lady of the Lake, thus with the Vindico issue and Avalon. Yet, he had disclosed his suspicious regarding what he thought was happening with Snape.

But instead of the information being received with the seriousness and alarm that it should have, Voldemort looked, by all means, as if he was bored by the whole thing. During Orion's whole narration of events, the wizard had only merely raised an eyebrow.

Yes, the wizard was in a very strange mood, and that always made him dangerous. Voldemort was acting cold and detached towards him, yet his crimson eyes every so often narrowed on him with a certain glint which Orion couldn't quite qualify.

"Why would I lie about that? I was feeling a bit guilty about having killed Gellert, and thus thought that knowing more about him would help me get over it," said Orion calmly, as he took a sip from the goblet of wine Voldemort had first offered to him.

He had already checked it for any alien substances, of course. He was no idiot.

Orion perched an elbow on the mantelpiece of the fireplace, standing at one side of Voldemort's couch, and he gazed down at the seated wizard, who remained looking like some sort of aristocrat dissipating time and lazing around – quite unusual, not Voldemort-ish at all. Something was definitely up.

He cleared his throat, settled the goblet back on the mantelpiece, and continued coolly, "You know that when I discovered that Gellert was my grandfather, I broke him out of Nurmengard with the hope of getting to know to him, to at least have one grandfather. But I told you that he wasn't quite well in the head. His years of imprisonment had affected him greatly."

Orion paused, and shook his head with apparent grimness, his expression candid and sullen. "He was insane, he hungered for power, he wanted to rehash his old days of glory and become a Dark Lord again. I didn't want to see the truth at first, but after months, I realized that he saw me as a rival. I realized he would kill me if I didn't kill him first, so I did-"

"_Yes, you've often repeated that it was his insanity which made you kill him-"_

"Why would I kill my own grandfather if it wasn't for that reason, Tom?" interrupted Orion shortly, leveling a hard gaze at him. "I killed him for the same reason I killed Nymphadora Tonks – because they were a threat to me, to you, and to the Dark side."

"_If you are to be believed, then Bathilda Bagshot just happened to mention the Illuminati?__"_ hissed Voldemort pleasantly, twirling his crystal wineglass between his long fingers, making it cast red sparkles with the firelight. _"How did she start on the subject? Unequivocally__ not when she was telling you about Grindelwald. The wizard never knew about them-"_

"Are you sure? How can you know that?" Orion paused, and shot him a frown, closely eyeing him. "Wait, are you telling me that you already knew about them?"

Voldemort arched an eyebrow, his lips curving upwards. _"Of course I did. The only thing I'm faintly surprised to know is that Arian Valenor has something to do with them, according to you."_

"Only in that Dumbledore took an Illuminati to visit the Valenors, and Arian's parents died the next day," interjected Orion dismissively. "I don't have the foggiest idea why or what the Illuminati wanted. And I don't know how much hold Arian has with the group. As I told you, I think he must have come in contact with them because they all want the same thing, to join the muggle and wizarding worlds."

"_I'm not surprised to know Dumbledore had ties with them,"_ hissed Voldemort conversationally. Abruptly, he stood up, leaving his wineglass next to Orion's, as he lifted his wand and shot him a piercing glance. _"Do you know what their symbol is?"_

For a second, Orion almost froze, then he squarely met his crimson gaze, and said dismissively, with a shrug of his shoulders, "No. Why?"

He hadn't told the wizard about the sniper or the symbol, since Ragnarok had made it look as if Bathilda Bagshot had died of natural causes and since the less Voldemort knew about the symbol, the better.

In the next second, Voldemort swished his wand and, instantly, lines of fire drew the Illuminati symbol in the air, floating in front of them. For a moment, Orion felt dismayed and paled, then he noticed that it was the symbol without the Druidic Runes, and a wave of immense relief washed over him.

The wizard had never seen the full symbol, he had never encountered the VL representation. Thank Circe, or Orion would have had an apoplexy right then and there if the wizard had drawn it.

"_Peculiar, is it not?"_ hissed Voldemort placidly. _"Since it's a symbol so well known in the muggle world."_ His crimson gaze intently swiveled back to Orion. _"Some historians claim that it represents Merlin."_

Orion snorted loudly. "Highly unlikely, isn't it?"

"_Perhaps,"_ hissed Voldemort, gazing at the fiery symbol for a moment, before he waved a hand, making it instantly disappear into thin air.

"Well, it matters little anyway," said Orion, shaking his head, before he pinned the wizard with his gaze. "You said you knew about the Illuminati before I told you about them. How come?"

"_I encountered one of them,"_ hissed Voldemort shortly, taking back his seat on the leather couch, whilst shooting Orion a narrowed-eyed glance which clearly conveyed that the wizard didn't like him to be standing, and he gestured at the armchair across from him.

Orion rolled his eyes, knowing the reason – that it put the wizard in a height disadvantage, and of course that someone like Voldemort would be annoyed but such things.

He sat on the proffered chair, and pressed impatiently, "Where? Are you going to tell me once and for all, or just keep stalling?"

"_Berlin," _hissed Voldemort succinctly, waving a hand and causing his wineglass to float from the mantelpiece and settle nicely in his outstretched hand.

Orion blinked at him. "You encountered an Illuminati in Berlin? How, when?"

"_In April 1945, __in the Führerbunker below the Third Reich Chancellery,"_ hissed Voldemort placidly, eyeing him with a vicious glint in his crimson eyes. _"The day Grindelwald's puppet died, I was there, I saw what happened."_

"Hang on," interjected Orion disbelievingly, holding up a hand. "You're telling me that you were in the Nazi bunker when Hitler killed himself? Why on earth? Why would you be-"

"_Killed himself?"_ hissed Voldemort with derision. _"Is that what Grindelwald told you when you asked him about it? Surely your grandfather didn't fail to mention-"_

"I never asked him about that," interrupted Orion crisply, "or anything related to his involvement with the Nazis."

"_Didn't want to hear about the so-called atrocities he was responsible for?"_ hissed Voldemort, his tone both snide and viciously mocking. _"You preferred to turn a blind eye, did you? Why, Orion, I'm surprised, with you always being such a defender of muggles and always so concerned about their welfare." _

"Stuff it, Tom," bit out Orion caustically, "I don't give a pixie's arse about that. I can't change it. And what Gellert did, he did it with the idea of making muggles kill each other so that light wizards would focus on trying to prevent it, while he waged the wizarding war on another front. I might not agree with the tactic, but given his ideals and convictions, I can understand it." He darkly glared at him, and snapped, "Now get on with it. Tell me what happened. What were you doing there?"

Voldemort scoffed scathingly, and hissed tartly, _"I went to pay Grindelwald a visit, obviously-"_

"Gellert couldn't have been there," interrupted Orion, shaking his head. "His headquarters were in Nurmengard..." He trailed off, and frowning, he speared the wizard with his gaze. "You're speaking about the time when you had just graduated from Hogwarts and went to see Grindelwald to persuade him to let you join him, just before you took the job at Borgin and Burkes. You're serious, then. Gellert was there, in the bunker, with Hitler? Why? I always thought he must have been in Nurmengard and not there."

"_No, he was there with his muggle puppet,"_ hissed Voldemort sneeringly, _"attempting to put some order in the chaos in which the remaining Nazis found themselves in, with the Russian Red Army flooding Berlin and with the puppet incapable of making any decisions or of controlling his own soldiers, which were defecting in alarming rates. The muggle was pathetic. Grindelwald's choice for a puppet had certainly been a poor one." _

The wizard smirked viciously, a nasty glint in his eyes, surely remembering how he had seen a Dark Lord fall so low, and savoring it as he would the downfall of any perceived past rival. _"Hitler wanted to flee from Europe and Grindelwald wanted him to regroup his forces outside of Germany. Evidently, it was clear that Grindelwald's plan was to abandon his puppet after being certain that the muggle would keep on fighting to give Grindelwald a chance to rally his own forces. It was in that situation in which I found Grindelwald." _

Voldemort paused, shooting Orion a smug smirk. _"I was, of course, dressed as a SS officer. I had taken the uniform of one I had killed, so that I could get in the bunker inconspicuously. I heard them arguing, and after Grindelwald foolishly refused my… help, I cast a parsel-invisibility spell on myself, staying behind, wanting to see with my own eyes how he failed. I slipped into the room in which Grindelwald was persuading Hitler and his wife to follow his plans." _

He scoffed snidely, briefly shaking his head at the mere stupidity of the idea. _"I never understood why he didn't cast the Imperius Curse on his puppet. He had done it often enough in the past, I'm sure."_ His smirk widened, as he eyed Orion mockingly. _"He didn't in that occasion. Your grandfather seemed to have a soft spot for the air-headed, pliable Evan Braun. I wonder if she reminded him of someone."_

Orion didn't comment on that, since the wizard was patently trying to get a rise out of him. For his part, he didn't have to wonder much about it. A 'pliable' woman, who could have been seen as an innocent victim under the thumb and control of her husband... Despite being a muggle, she must have reminded Gellert of his own mother, Antigone.

"And what happened?" he pressed on, gesturing with a hand impatiently.

Voldemort leaned back on his seat, turning the wineglass in his hand, as he hissed pleasantly, _"A Nazi officer entered the room, unexpectedly and uninvited, since Grindelwald instantly jumped to his feet."_ He shot Orion a nasty smirk. _"Your grandfather wasn't fast enough. The man shot Hitler and his wife, straight in their heads. When he turned against Grindelwald, your grandfather killed him instantly with the Killing Curse. Grindelwald was surprised by the turn in events, by such startling actions from a Nazi officer. He searched the muggle's clothes, and when he ripped open the man's shirt, there was a mark on the muggle's chest. A magical brand, which made the body spontaneously combust seconds later. The mark on the muggle was the one I showed you."_

"If muggles knew, they would hail the Illuminati as heroes," murmured Orion to himself, wondering if it could part of their plan, to let it be known, to give proof of it, when they decided to reveal themselves to the muggle world when disclosing the existence of magic and the wizarding world.

The possibility made him feel a bit apprehensive. Though, if it was true, it had to be part of a much greater plan, that was certain. And who knew what else they were responsible for, what other things they had done for the benefit of muggle kind. Things they could use, wear on like badges, gaining them favor with the muggles.

He shook his head, pulling out of his musings, and said with a deep frown on his face, "And Gellert didn't recognize the mark? He never discovered that the man had been an Illuminati?"

"_He looked puzzled by the mark and its magical nature,"_ hissed Voldemort calmly. _"Thus, it can be deduced he did not know that it was the Illuminati's symbol, nor did I at the time. He must have only known what it represented to muggles, hence his confusion. And he didn't have the time to discover much. The shots were heard, Hitler's secretary, among others, reached the room and saw the bodies. Grindelwald modified their memories, making them believe Hitler and his wife had killed themselves, and he obliviated all of their memories about him. He cracked cyanide capsules into Hitler's and Eva's mouths, to make it more believable, since it was the Nazi preferred means for suicide, and left." _

He paused, and then added dismissively, _"And so did I. The following day, Grindelwald had his duel against Dumbledore, he lost and was imprisoned. And I started looking into the symbol I had seen, to discover who in the wizarding world was behind it. I asked several of my contacts, I researched into books mentioning the symbol, and it led me to the Illuminati."_

"And?" breathed out Orion, staring at him expectantly.

Voldemort idly arched an eyebrow. _"And nothing. What I know is the same as what you have told me. 'Magic for All' and their aim of uniting the muggle and wizarding world."_

"And you don't give a flying fuck," gritted out Orion angrily, his hands clenching into fists on his lap, "because it would suit your purposes to let them go ahead and do it. It would give you the perfect excuse to convince everyone into annihilating muggles. Even light wizards would start thinking that way if they knew what the Illuminati want to bring about and if it was a proven threat - and it would be, by their actions!"

Voldemort widely smirked at him, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself. _"Perhaps now you'll be more inclined to be prepared to use the Mayan Stone, wouldn't you say?"_

"You and the bloody Mayan Stone…" grumbled Orion darkly under his breath, glaring at him balefully. "How far ahead are you with it?"

"_I__ have planned to give you a demonstration after the meeting,"_ hissed Voldemort placidly, his lips curling upwards.

"Fine," grunted Orion. He took a deep breath, sighed, and carded his fingers through his hair. "What about Snape?"

A dark expression swept over Voldemort's handsome face, his crimson eyes hardening and glinting with fury. _"You should have never given him a translated copy of Slytherin's journals. I didn't give you permission-"_

"I didn't ask for it," bit out Orion sharply, glowering at him. "I know you love to hog all magical knowledge to yourself, Tom, and that you don't share it with anyone. But I have as much right as you do to do whatever I like with Slytherin's legacy. Or don't you remember that Rose Evans came from the line of Salazar's bastard with a muggle woman? I told you about that, about why Grindelwald had picked her. So I'm Slytherin's Heir too, remember that."

A muscle clenched in Voldemort's jaw, but to Orion's amazement, the wizard then seemed to take it calmly, and merely nastily curled his lips, as he hissed, "_Then Snape is your problem. All I will do is send some of my Death Eaters to investigate the Illuminati and find out some of their identities, as you asked. Nothing more."_

"I ask for nothing else," said Orion complacently, widely grinning at him. "Thanks, Tom."

A laugh issued from Voldemort's lips, nasty, mocking, and condescending. _"You can start repaying me right now, in the way you know best. How I trained you to do, my little serpent." _Seated on the couch, he spread his legs, and his crimson eyes roved over him, something not all together desire glinting in them, as he hissed sharply, "_On your knees. Put that mouth of yours to use."_

Orion almost gaped and spluttered, before he composed himself and spat furiously, bristling and seething, "Fuck off, Tom. You get down on your knees and pleasure me." He mockingly copied Voldemort's posture, and gestured at his own lap, sneering at him, "Come, come, I'm waiting. You taught me how to do it, by first doing it yourself, remember? You can do the same now."

In the next bat of the eyelash, so quickly that it gave Orion no chance to act, Voldemort had pulled him off his chair, grabbing him by the throat, and squeezing, making the tip of his feet barely brush the floor, the crimson eyes narrowed with murderous fury, as he hissed quietly, _"But you have done it for the halfbreed, haven't you? That and much more. Did you think I wouldn't immediately notice the change in you, that I wouldn't see that disgusting mark on your neck, or the difference with your teeth? I knew the moment you came in." _

Orion didn't have the time to claw at the fingers choking him or to blast the wizard away from him, since in the next second Voldemort had already released him. Gasping for breath, and on wobbly knees, Orion glanced at the wizard, not angered, but instead puzzled by the wizard's restraint, which worried him much more than any insults.

Voldemort stared at him with utter revulsion, his crimson eyes glinting with hateful viciousness, as he hissed scornfully, _"You did it after all. You spread your legs like a good little whore-"_

"Sure did," quipped Orion, nastily grinning at him as he quickly recovered and stood straight up. He affected an enraptured sigh and expression. "Oh, and he was sooo good, Tom. What a night!" He shot him a venomous glance, and hissed silkily, "_Next time, I'll lower my Occlumency shields a bit and I'll share some of the pleasure with you. Would you like that, Tom? You can live it through me, what it feels to be fucked by a vampire. I think it would do you some good."_

He saw the mad, murdering rage in Voldemort's crimson eyes, he saw the way the wizard gripped his wand until his knuckles turned white, he saw the man's jaw tightly clenching. Yet, Voldemort did nothing, said nothing, merely eyed him disdainfully.

And as comprehension started to dawn on him, Orion said tauntingly, "I know you must be dying to do it, to crucio me to your satisfaction, as you used to do. Why aren't you, Tom? This isn't the first time you restrain yourself, you've been doing it for quite a while." He eyed him closely and then let out a bark of laughter, laughing so hard it almost hurt. "Surely you aren't afraid of hurting me! Surely you don't suspect that I could be pregnant. I made my Healing Dark Arts professor check it, and I'm not! I've never taken a potion for it - what on earth gave you the idea that I might be-"

Voldemort was on him instantly, aggressively pulling Orion's robes apart and pulling up his shirt, pressing his hand on Orion's taut, flat stomach. A mesh of expressions flashed across the wizard's darkly handsome face, before he took a step back, his lips curling upwards.

"_You're not,"_ hissed Voldemort impassively, his face utterly expressionless, revealing nothing.

Frowning, without understanding the wizard's contradicting reactions or knowing what to believe, Orion eyed him closely. He cleared his throat as he arranged his clothes, and said coolly, "Well, it's not something you should worry about, if you are. I owe you an heir, and I have decided to do it."

Voldemort arched an eyebrow, hissing calmly, _"Have you? When will you be prepared, if I'm allowed to know?"_

Orion wasn't quite sure if he was being mocked or not. "After we win the English war."

"_So soon?"_ hissed Voldemort placidly, his lips twisting upwards. _"We are talking about mere months, if everything goes as planned. Why the sudden urge when you had previously vouched to wait years?"_

"Well, it wouldn't be fair to you if you had to wait several years, would it?" said Orion calmly, waving a hand dismissively. "And there'll be a lull between the end of the English war and the wars we'll then launch in continental Europe, so that would be the only time of relative peace we'll have in a very long while. That will be the best time for it." He eyed him quizzically. "That is, if you don't want to wait. If you do-"

"_I don't,"_ interrupted Voldemort in a dismissive hiss.

Orion blinked at him, then gauged him closely, attempting and failing at reading him. He sighed, and carded his fingers through his hair. "Well, that's that, then."

"_Apparently it is,"_ hissed Voldemort pleasantly, his lips curling as he took a step to tower over Orion. His crimson eyes speared him, as he added in a low, quiet, caressing hiss, which coming from the wizard was a tone more threatening than anything else, _"You'll do well to remember that I can easily break the bond you have so foolishly completed with the halfbreed. I need only to kill your little vampire, and you would be free from the bond. Indeed, by having bonded with him, you have signed his death certificate." _He shook his head, tutting mockingly, a vicious glint in his eyes._ "Ah, my poor little serpent. When will you learn, I wonder."_

"You won't kill Lezander," said Orion with a nonchalant scoff, "because you know you need the alliance with the vampires to win the wars."

Voldemort looked at him condescendingly, as he hissed smoothly, _"For the time being."_

Orion narrowed his eyes at him, but didn't made any comment, since it wasn't as if he didn't already know that Voldemort would dispose of anyone he considered an enemy or a threat, the moment he could afford it.

"_You're still mine, Orion, make no mistake__,"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, abruptly clutching Orion's chin in a painful grip, fingers sinking into his cheeks. _"You're my horcrux, my possession-"_

Orion darkly glared at him, wrenching free from the grasp, as he quipped crisply, "A 'possession' with a mind of its own."

"_And wit__h secret plans of its own, undoubtedly,"_ hissed Voldemort impassively, his crimson eyes intensely piercing into Orion's green ones.

"I don't know what you're talking about," scoffed Orion with a roll of his eyes. "You know about all my plans. Though you can be as paranoid as you like, I've become quite used to it."

"_Ah, our guests have arrived,"_ hissed Voldemort abruptly, glancing at the closed door, certainly having felt the wards of the Manor shifting. He glanced at Orion, and hissed sharply, _"You're spending the night with me, as you will spend any other night I tell you to. If you're whoring yourself out to the halfbreed, then you'll be my whore as well, my little serpent. For now, I'll grant you that much."_

"How can I refuse such a charming invitation?" sneered Orion tartly. He glared at him before he made way to the door, and finally shot loftily over his shoulder, "If you're a good little boy during the meeting, Tom, then I'll think about it."

* * *

"That's Morticia Mortimer," Titania breathed out by his side. "I can hardly believe it."

Orion was at Malfoy Manor's receiving hall, surrounded by his Elite. After his 'chat' with Voldemort, he had encountered the Death Eaters of the Inner Circle just before his Elite had arrived with Lezander and Cyprian, and seconds later, the werewolf Alphas had appeared, led by Remus, who had brought with him Connolly and, to Orion's surprise, Greyback.

Nevertheless, Greyback seemed to have somehow managed to be back in Voldemort's good graces since disappearing when the Death Eaters had fled from Hogwarts. At some point, it was clear that Greyback had let Voldemort know that he was staying in Lycaon. Though how he had convinced the wizard to allow him to remain with his mate, Orion didn't know.

Taking his duties seriously, as the one who linked all allies together, Orion had proceeded to introduce his Elite, Cyprian and Lezander to the Alphas. At first, the tension and gut-deep aversion between the werewolves and the two vampires had been palpable. Wulfric, in particular, looked as if he was ready to growl and raise his hackles.

It had been Remus who had interceded and mollified things by first approaching Lezander, expressing his joy in finally meeting the person of whom he had heard so much about from Orion. Lezander had warmly returned the courtesy, and had further smoothened the situation with great diplomatic aplomb, smiling at Wulfric and offering his hand for a polite shake between new allies.

Then, of course, had come the time to formally introduce the Elite, Alphas and vampires to firstly Voldemort and then the Inner Circle. And Orion had done so, following every protocolary rule which had been hammered into his skull by Calypso, a while ago.

Orion had felt quite at ease when introducing the Alphas and his Elite, and indeed, both groups had been very politely welcomed by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He had been worried, at first, that some Death Eaters would say something snide to the werewolves, but they hadn't. Calypso had been right when saying everyone would behave. And the two vampires had been received just as well, by all outward appearances.

Though Orion's heart had almost lodged in his throat the moment Lezander had to shake hands with Voldemort. If looks could kill, those two would have offed each other at the same time and with exactly the same amount of veiled hatred between them. Yet, he had noticed that their stiff, brief handshake had the force behind it to crack bones, and he was left to wonder if Voldemort had needed to wandlessly cast a healing spell on his hand, while Lezander's naturally fixed itself.

Well, he couldn't do anything about it. The personal reason for their mutual hatred had everything to do with him, but he also knew that it stemmed as well from what had happened decades ago, when Voldemort had visited Râzvan during his First Rise, demanding to be given the Zraven Rege's blood as part of the alliance the wizard wanted to negotiate between them. Needless to say, that had been a no-no, and Voldemort had been quickly refused and practically unceremoniously kicked out of Zraven Citadel. But really, it had been Voldemort's fault, due to his arrogance and his high-handed, demanding manners.

After the formal introductions, Voldemort hadn't led them all into the meeting room, as Orion, and surely everyone else, had expected. It had puzzled him, but he had done like the rest, who started mingling as they pleased, striking up casual conversations here and there.

Out of the blue, Orion had been approached by Patrick Connolly. Remus' Beta had appeared to be in a decidedly good mood. And Orion soon understood why when the werewolf leaned over him, smirking, with a feral glint in his golden eyes, as he whispered, "They mated."

Orion realized what he was talking about when he saw that Connolly was glancing at Remus and Greyback, and his eyebrow shot upwards. "Well, that was quick, wasn't it?"

"Aye, Fenrir doesn't waste any time," whispered Connolly contently. "He hounded m'Alpha until Remus had no choice but to yield or kick him out of Lycaon. 'Course, m'Alpha likes'im now that Fenrir is acting so lovey-dovey with'im. Tactics, tactics…" He shot Orion a sharp-toothed, thoroughly satisfied smirk. "There'll be a cub next. Fenrir will see to that."

When Orion had finally realized what the werewolf meant, it was too late for him to gape at Connolly, since the Beta had merrily gone back to Remus and Greyback, who were chatting with Lezander and Cyprian and with the female Alpha, Amadine.

Then, _they_ had popped in, and Orion just knew that something weird was up. Comodus Conrad, Titania's uncle and guardian, had apparated accompanied by a witch, and the American Dark Ally had no business there. Excepting Alistair Armitage who was already in their midst, none of the other Dark Allies were supposed to attend the meeting, given that only Armitage was directly involving himself by promising to plant one of the vanishing cabinets in either the Irish or Scottish Ministry of Magic, plus getting the layouts of both.

Now, he and his Elite were gazing at Conrad and the witch who's identity Titania had just unraveled for them. And the unfamiliar witch certainly piqued Orion's interest.

Morticia Mortimer appeared to be in her late thirties, and was quite a beauty: with glossy, straight, black hair reaching her waist, fine aristocratic features with plush lips and almond-shaped black eyes lined with kohl, which made them look cat-like, and which contrasted her eyes against her smooth, pale skin. And her manner of dressing could be called nothing but blatantly seductive. She was wearing a long, black, tight gown which revealed her curves, with a V-shaped cleavage which plunged all the way down to her midriff, enticingly displaying the full shape of her breasts.

Orion had never seen a dark witch dressed so provocatively in his life, and he didn't quite know what to make of it.

"Really?" said Kara, peeling for once her adoring gaze from Evander to glance at the witch with curiosity. "I thought she was just a myth."

"Oh, no, she's quite real. Never met her before in person, of course, but I heard from my uncle that she has quite a reputation-"

"An infamous one, you should say, Tita," interjected Artemisa with a twist of her sensuous lips, shrewdly assessing the witch as if weighing an older and more experienced rival who threatened to encroach on her territory.

"Why?" inquired Alexios in his soft, cultured voice, inspecting the witch rather detachedly, with mere clinical, impersonal interest, as if she was a rare specimen to be analyzed.

"It's said that she's implacable, ruthless and heartless, in business and love affairs," replied Artemisa, with an expression on her face that showed that she would do her best to follow that same glorious path and best her predecessor at it. Her lush lips tilted upwards. "She's a kind of Jezabel Zabini. Also a man-eater, only that she has never married. Seems that she prefers to earn fortunes using her brain and business skills, rather than her body and seductive wiles. Though I dare say that with her looks, she could very well do both."

Orion raked his brain, trying to recall if the name rang a bell. He only vaguely remembered locket Tom mentioning in passing a Mortimer in Slytherin House, but not much else. And it was clear that it couldn't have been the witch in question but rather her grandfather or some other older relative. He glanced at Calypso quizzically, their gazes meeting, and she instantly seemed to understand what was on his mind.

She leaned towards him, and said quietly, "All I know from my father is that Mauricius Mortimer was one of the first Death Eaters. My grandfather knew him from Hogwarts, and they later had some business deals together. But quite suddenly the wizard uprooted his whole family and moved to America. They weren't involved in the Dark Lord's First Rise since none of them came back to England. There were rumors here and there about what had happened to them, because the Mortimer fortune was the largest in the entire wizarding world at the time-"

"She's Mauricius Mortimer's grandniece, he passed away years ago. And it's rumored that she took the reins of the Mortimer fortune," interjected Dravana in her low, surly voice, "and further expanded it, but she's quite an unknown entity-"

"She's never been seen out of America," interrupted Artemisa, slight scorn and distaste showing in her beautiful, olive-tanned face. "She doesn't mingle with European pureblood society. Thinks too much of herself, I would think, forgetting her own roots and where the Mortimer fortune originally came from-"

"They say she has amassed even a greater fortune by investing in the muggle world," grunted Geodrof in his usual shortness and gruffness, "and that all her business deals are conducted with them."

"No self-respecting pureblood should stoop so low," said Kasimir sharply, contempt clear on his angular features, "no matter how many galleons could be gained from doing business with filth-"

"Oh, do catch up with modern times, Kas," snapped Titania in a low whisper. "Galleons are galleons, nowadays it matters little where they come from. It's not like in the good ol' days anymore. And she's not the first nor will be the last pureblood to take advantage of the muggle world to increase their family's riches. But she is the first to have made a smashing success of it, so some respect is due."

Orion shook his head, trying to piece all the bits of information together, and he turned to Titania. "You know her?"

"Not personally," she said with a wave of her hand, shooting Kasimir one last dark glance, "but my uncle has told me about her. They are close acquaintances. My uncle, and his father before him, have done business with the Mortimer family ever since they settled in America. Comodus also administrates their fortune in one of the wizarding banks in which he holds a controlling majority, but what he does is mostly as a mere consultant. Lady Mortimer usually oversees everything personally. She doesn't give control over her investments to anyone."

"Who cares about that? The point is that she's a beauty. A cold and dangerous one," said Viktor with a wide smirk, gazing at the older witch with a sparkle of appreciation and lustful desire in his eyes. "I wouldn't mind having a tumble in the sack with her." He shot Evander and Orion a conspiratorial wink between pals. "You know, a witch of her age and experience… should be quite a challenge to dominate that one. Looks like she's the type who likes to be on top, who likes to ride instead of being mounted… oh, the possibilities…"

Titania merely rolled her hazel eyes, quite used to her boyfriend's libidinous mind-escapades and unrestrained, wagging, lewd tongue.

Viktor's smirk widened as he suavely caressed one of Titania's locks of golden hair. "But fear not, love. Your place between my sheets is unthreatened. You're the only one for me for the long haul."

"Good to know," said Titania with a dismissive wave of her hand, clearly not even remotely concerned about losing her hold on him, the once upon a time foremost 'player' in Durmstrang.

"Where does she live?" muttered Orion, frowning as he regarded the witch in question. "In which countries does she have influence through her investments?"

"Mainly in the US, Mexico, Argentina, and Brazil," replied Titania, her expression musing. "But I've heard that she has investments all over the American continent. As for where she resides… I've no idea. I don't think she lives in any wizarding community at all-"

"She lives in the muggle world, then?" asked Orion, his eyebrows shootings upwards in surprise.

Titania shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps. It would be a great inconvenience for her if she did, since she would have a lower standard of living than any pureblood with a manor and house-elves has, and she would be scorned and ridiculed if it was known, but I think it's possible. My uncle has always kept it a secret, even from me. And if she's looking for somewhere safe to live, without being bothered, then there's nothing better than living in a large muggle city. Few would know how to look for her there."

Morticia Mortimer grew more puzzling and interesting which each tidbit of information and rumor about her. Though Viktor had been right in his shallowly stated assessment, she did look cold and dangerous.

"My, it looks as if the Dark Lord knows her well."

Orion's gaze snapped up at that, and indeed, it seemed to be true. Her and Comodus Conrad were now surrounded by many of the Inner Circle, and Voldemort had taken a hold of her hand, lifting it up and brushing his lips across her knuckles. Orion's eyebrows shot to his hairline, not at the gallant display, since Voldemort could charm anyone out of their wits when he desired to do so. What perplexed him was the way the wizard was eyeing her, with his lips tilted upwards. There was something in the wizard's eyes he had never seen before. Respect – what Voldemort had never given to anyone, ever. It thoroughly astounded him.

He swiftly turned to Titania, and whispered quickly, "Go to your guardian, see if you can glean from Conrad why she's here."

She nodded at him, and instantly calmly made way to her uncle and only family left.

However, to Orion's disappointment, Voldemort gave the sign right then, and everyone started moving towards the meeting room at one side of the hall. He would simply have to wait and see.

But he soon noticed that Morticia Mortimer wasn't being led to the room. Conrad seemed to be conveying his farewells, and the wizard disapparated in the next second. It appeared that the man's task had only been to escort her into Malfoy Manor. Now Narcissa Malfoy was leading the witch down the hall, most probably to a parlor, since Narcissa was clearly playing the part of hostess, surely under Voldemort's orders to keep the witch company.

Both witches disappeared into the depths of Malfoy Manor, and Orion could only ponder, speculate, and simply make his way into the meeting room, blinking, and then courteously allowing Jezabel Zabini to enter first, who seemed to have come out of thin air during his distraction.


	38. Morticia's Scroll & the Mayan Demo

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

I'm so happy that a reviewer has clicked pieces together about the wyvern matter. Cheers for you, 'misc thoughts' *winks* Indeed, Durmstrang's crest has a wyvern on it because Orion's true animagus form is a wyvern, and Mordred saw this in the Scrying Waters in Gaia's Isle of Avalon.

A while back, another reviewer gave info about a Mayan deity. And you'll see that it finally comes into play in this chapter. I hope you find it interesting! I had loads of fun researching into this stuff long ago when planning to write a scene in this chappie. I love to read about myths and such, it's so interesting and imaginative. *grins*

An important point about Draco. As a reviewer pointed out, Draco is lagging behind the other major characters. Lez is now the Rege of a powerful magical vampire Clan, thus he has power, and Arian, Orion and Voldemort are the most powerful wizards in existence. Draco, in comparison lacks much. Utterly true, and on purpose, since I think it's realistic. He had been sheltered all his life, to walk down the path traced for him by Lucius, to simply become a pureblood with political and social connections and status. So while everyone, like Orion, was rising up, Draco was simply in his golden cage, so he lagged behind.

But now, given his new circumstances, he is being forced to rise by his own means, or fall into anonymity if he fails. And what Orion proposed to him hints at what Draco could become: both a Zraven – a vampire mate- and a Malfoy pureblood Lord, using both worlds to attain his ambitions to be someone in the wizarding political sphere. Minister of Magic, diplomat, finance wiz, the VA's right hand, who knows. He has a whole span of wonderful possibilities. The reader has to imagine a successful Draco like that in the future.

To the reviewer with 'misc thoughts' -*grins* following ffnet rules I cannot write a reviewer's nickname in the ANs, so I must find other ways to let reviewers know who I mean! *winks*- Well, I thoroughly enjoyed your very long review, it was so interesting and I was smiling the whole way through! I would so love to reply to so many things, but alas, I can't say much or things to come would be revealed too soon. But I can at least clear up some points:

1. The Illuminati know about the VA, at least those of Arian's faction know, and for them Orion, as the VA-to-be, is the enemy. And it's true that even if they accomplish their Magic for All goal, there's still the problem of Light Source vs. Dark Source – this is something that Orion and Arian have to deal with, and possibly solve. The interesting point, of course, is how. *winks*

2. The Kraljica Mati, since she's a vampire and also the Lady of Lake, cares for both the fate of vampires -and the world of magical creatures- and the fate of dark wizarding kind. That's why she worked on her own to bring about the VA and why she helped bring Lezander and Orion together by convincing the Zraven to send Lez to Durmstrang instead of the typical vampire education at the Citadel, among other things. She doesn't lean more in helping vampires than dark wizarding kind, I would say her efforts are equally balanced.

3. The KM just said she wanted to see Orion's firstborn because she's ancient and doesn't know if she'll be alive by the time Orion has his third child, his son with Lez and thus her descendant. I didn't mean for it to come out ominous. Well, for her it is, because perhaps she won't even be alive to see any of the children born.

4. About the wyvern thing, applause to you again, as mentioned at the beginning of the AN *grins* You're absolutely right, and also about the other abilities that Mordred saw himself having when being Orion. That's why they joined Peverell lines with Black –animagus ability- with Slytherin –parseltongue- and before that, some line to incorporate the Necromantic ability which resulted in Cadmus Peverell being a Necromancer, as the KM explained to Orion.

5. Orion's training covers mainly physical stuff, move quickly, reflexes, wield swords and such. Perhaps it would be showed in the attacks, but I think Orion is the kind of wizard to still rely more on magic than anything else. But he will have some moves *winks*

6. Arian was very fond of Perenelle Flamel, but not necessarily in a romantic way. But there is surely a history behind them.

7. Patricide is definitely a very common theme in Orion's life, in true medieval Kings and Machiavellian eras style. I imagine the dark pureblood world like a mix of both eras, founded on those ancient rules of protocol, morally-lacking principles and devious ways. The rule of the fittest, the most ruthless and the most powerful.

8. Draco only received a vial of Lezander's blood, true, but he was affected so much –acquiring vampiric traits in one go- because he was on the brink of death. Voldemort had truly been about to finish him off, having already tortured Draco for ages, when Orion saved him. On the other hand, Orion was perfectly healthy the two times he took Lezander's blood in the past. So in a way, Draco was closer to being turned than Orion ever was.

9. Oh, Lucius will rant, fume and deviously plot to break Draco and Lez apart if those two get together. But about Draco deciding in the future to not mate with Lez just to please his father, well, Draco is maturing against his will, want it or not, his priorities will change given his new circumstances. He will not remain daddy's boy forever.

I hope I managed to ellucidate some matters!

**PICTURES: **Loads of pics have been posted on the yahoo group. You'll find the majority in the last 3 pages of the Characters Photo Album. There are pics for Morgana, The Argonaut, Morticia Mortimer, a new one for Patrick Connolly, an amazing new one for Lezander which is just as I pictured him in my mind now that he's the young Rege, and for Tom Riddle –check him out in a towel! *grins*- (courtesy of Aciarium), among many others.

In the Manor & Houses photo album there are two new pics for Sdravkul Castle and town.

I hope you give them a glance.

**Read, enjoy and review, please!**

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**Chapter 38  
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Orion didn't quite know what to make of things as he stared at Morticia Mortimer. Emotions were warring inside him and his mind was still buzzing from the meeting. Not to mention that he felt exhausted after it, since it had lasted over three hours without a break.

Regarding the meeting, he felt thoroughly satisfied with how it had proceeded. They had gone through every single detail, all matters regarding the attacks of August the first had been decided upon, everyone knew what they had to do, and all parties were to further plot their part in the attacks during the following two weeks that led to it.

Alistair Armitage, the English Dark Ally with political connections all over Britain, had done his part. He had planted one of the vanishing cabinets in the Scottish Ministry of Magic, and the other one had been given to Lezander, since it had been agreed that the Zraven force would take charge of taking that Ministry.

Furthermore, the old wizard had delivered, as promised, magical layouts and blueprints of the Irish and Scottish Ministries of Magic, while the Death Eater Augustus Rookwood, a former Unspeakable, had handed out the maps for the English Ministry.

Orion had been very satisfied with the amount of information they held, since the parchments were rather like his own Marauders' Map, with the difference that they did not only contain information regarding the wards around the buildings and in all levels, but also since the magical maps became three-dimensional once unfolded. This property had allowed them to precisely plot the movements of how to successfully take over the Ministries, know which ward-breaking spells had to be used, and thus help them to further coordinate the timings of the attacks.

All leaders had been given copies of such maps. Orion himself now had the maps of all three Ministries in his pocket, whilst the Inner Circle had the one for the English Ministry of Magic, Lezander for the Scottish, and the Alphas of the Irish.

Given that Patrick Connolly thoroughly knew his way around wizarding Dublin, having been from a dark pureblood Irish family before being bitten, it had been decided that the Beta would be of use in helping Remus and all the other Alphas to plot the werewolf attack on the Irish Ministry. Moreover, the Alphas had been given crates containing countless vials of the potion once promised to them by Voldemort.

Snape had been busy brewing such potion, apparently. And as part of Voldemort's Inner Circle, the Potions Master had participated in the meeting. Orion had seen that Snape was back to his usual self, merely succinctly explaining the properties of the potion he had created when ordered to do so by Voldemort. For that, Orion had felt a modicum of relief, but it hadn't allayed his suspicions regarding the spell the Illuminati must have cast on Snape through the issue of Le Monde Magique.

Nevertheless, the Alphas and Orion himself had been pleased that Voldemort had kept his end of the bargain. The potion would allow the packs to change into their werewolf forms during the non-full-moon day, whilst retaining their own human mind. Thus, giving the werewolves a great physical advantage over the wizards they would encounter in the Irish Ministry, also allowing their muggle members to participate in the attack, increasing the number of their force.

Muggle werewolves were a minority in most of the packs, but Amadine and Wulfric, Alphas of packs in France and Russia, respectively, did have quite a number of them in their midst, since the packs in those countries were quite large.

Orion didn't know what muggles bitten and turned into werewolves did if they never crossed paths with a pack. They had it tougher than a wizard in their situation, since they didn't know about the magical world, and thus must have a hard time understanding and coping with what happened to them. But he did know that most of the Alphas were on the lookout to find such muggle werewolves bitten by some rogue or other, to incorporate them to their packs and explain matters, since having muggle werewolves roaming about muggle cities during full moons threatened to disclose their existence to muggles – it represented a serious breach of security.

And he also knew that the Alphas wanted their muggle pack members to feel more integrated and safe, thus the potion would be very helpful in that endeavor, since it would allow them to transform into werewolves painlessly, keeping their minds, and whenever they wanted to do so by imbibing it. It would certainly make them start seeing their werewolf condition not as a curse but as a gift – exactly what the Alphas wanted.

Besides the crates with the potion vials, Snape had given the Alphas a copy of his notes with the brewing instructions, so that the werewolves would be able to produce the potion on their own. And Orion had seen the surprise and pleased satisfaction in the Alphas when the Potions Master had done so. It was clear to him that Snape had been ordered to do so by Voldemort, since Snape wasn't one to freely share the secrets behind his hard work.

Though, Orion knew that it wasn't out of any generosity from Voldemort's part, but a sly move. An evident gesture to ingratiate himself with the Alphas, who wouldn't be supporting the Dark at all if it wasn't for Orion. Yes, Voldemort knew that the Alphas considered only Orion as their Ally, and was now trying to make them see that he wasn't so bad.

Still, Orion didn't fear that the Alphas would shift their direct alliance from him to Voldemort. Voldemort's views about muggles were known, as well as his devious ways. And the werewolves were no idiots, they knew that the Dark Lord only saw them as creatures to be used in the war. He, on the other hand, had spurred Remus into creating Lycaon, funding it, and giving the other Alphas the same amount to do the same in their countries – something Voldemort would have never done, since the wizard couldn't care less about their welfare.

Indeed, it had been the founding of Lycaon, and Orion's backing and part in it, which had made the other Alphas agree to become his allies, since Remus –at Orion's instruction- had long ago contacted them to tell them about his new werewolf community. And the Alphas had visited Lycaon and instantly desired to have the same for their packs.

It was that, and the promise of equal civil rights for their kind and Orion's known positive views about werewolves, which made the Alphas staunchly support him. And he didn't think that any amount of miracle potions provided by Voldemort would sway the Alpha's regard for him. Though he didn't doubt that Voldemort would continue to attempt to steal the werewolves from him – the wizard still held a grudge after losing the Dementors' support, which, granted, had been Orion's fault. Not that he regretted it. He had gained his father back and made Voldemort lose those ghastly creatures. In his opinion, it couldn't have turned out better.

After the talks about the potion, it had been decided that during the next two weeks before the day of the attacks, the werewolves would covertly scout wizarding Dublin. And the vampires were to do the same in wizarding Edinburgh, to learn their way around the cities and monitor from the outside the comings and goings in the respective Ministries, to have first-hand information to avail them in the further plotting of their respective attacks.

During those discussions, Orion had participated much, along with Lezander and Cyprian, and Wulfric, Amadine, Remus and Greyback, as they came to an agreement of what the vampire and werewolf roles in the attacks would be.

Once that aspect had been decided, Voldemort had merely imperiously stated how his Death Eaters would stage the coup in the English Ministry of Magic, quite clearly without welcoming anyone's opinion about the matter.

Then it had been Orion's turn to relate everything he had gleaned from Hermione Granger's mind, particularly about the wards surrounding the Burrow. And with his Elite, they had threshed out the details of their own attack on Bill Weasley's and Fleur Delacour's wedding celebration.

Furthermore, Orion had instructed Remus about what he wanted his father to do during the attack. Remus would be informing Sirius of his part in the affair the next time the wizard popped into Lycaon to visit his friend without it being noticed by the Order.

Nevertheless, Orion had had to yield to Voldemort on one point. He would be in communication with Lezander, Remus and Wulfric during the attacks –as was agreed by them, since he was their ally and overseer- and he would be personally leading his Elite in the attack on the Burrow. But also, after Voldemort's curt and commanding insistence, he would have to take along with him a small group of Death Eaters.

Orion hadn't been pleased when he had been informed that Bellatrix would be leading that group – and the witch hadn't either, clearly preferring to stay by her Lord's side. But Orion had relented in the end, since they would be joining Voldemort and his forces in the English Ministry of Magic once they were done in the Burrow, and they were meant to do it swiftly.

His attack would take place before all others, and much depended on it, since most of the Order members would be in the Burrow and it was his mission to incapacitate them so that they couldn't aid the wizards in the English Ministry of Magic. And it was also clear that it would be the most troublesome and dangerous attack, given that there was no doubt that Arian would be there.

Orion had the certainty that it was due to this that Voldemort had decided to send some of his Death Eaters with him. And he also knew that the Dark Lord would be secretly giving Bellatrix his own instructions about what to do. What he didn't know was what, precisely, those would be, since Voldemort had ignored his hissed demands to be informed about it.

Regardless, what was certain was that it was his mission to deal with Arian and to drag the light wizard to the English Ministry of Magic, where he and Voldemort wanted to trap him. Though, Orion wondered what would indeed happen with Arian.

His idea was to capture the light wizard, since there was much information he wanted to glean from Arian. On the other hand, he was quite sure that Voldemort wanted to kill the wizard, as one killed a bothersome fly regarded to be of no consequence but still annoying. And that was what irked Orion the most, since Voldemort clearly still didn't consider Arian a serious threat and since he didn't want to kill the light wizard – he wasn't prepared for that yet.

Currently, Orion had a hard time in considering Arian his 'nemesis', though he knew he should. But it was difficult, given how Arian had been helping him, in a way, with all the dropped hints which had led him to discover so much.

Nevertheless, even if Orion had to yield on the matter of taking with him Bellatrix and her team, he had persuaded Voldemort to yield on another point. He had finally convinced the Dark Lord to send a small group of his Death Eaters to take over St. Mungo's while the other attacks took place, since it wouldn't be hard to take control of the wizarding hospital and since they would be needing healers for the final battle. Better have all healers in England under their control, than have them helping light wizards when the time came to crush the remaining light forces.

By the end of the meeting, everyone seemed to be satisfied with the outcome as well as rather occupied with the further planning each party would need to undertake by their own.

As the assembly had broken into small groups, some of them leaving, others remaining to chat about some matters between themselves, one thing had happened which Orion hadn't expected.

Indeed, during the meeting, he had quite forgotten about Jezabel Zabini's presence.

As usual, at the very beginning, the Seer had taken a seat at one corner, her eyes had glazed over and turned white, and a sheet of magic had immediately seemed to encompass the attendants. No one had taken much notice of it, or of her, since everyone knew by then what her task consisted of, and since she never beeped a word.

It was due to her inconspicuousness, that when the meeting ended and some started to leave the Manor, Orion had been caught by surprise when he had sensed someone's gaze intensely fixed on him. He had been chatting with his Elite and Lezander, but in the next second, after that feeling, he had caught sight of Jezabel Zabini's covert gaze on him. With a subtle, slight duck of her chin, she had let him know she wanted a word with him.

Seeing Voldemort surrounded by his Inner Circle, occupied in giving them some instructions or other, Orion had surreptitiously made his way towards the door, since she was headed in that direction, the witch appearing, by all means, as if she was simply leaving after having done her task.

And as she slowly and calmly passed by him, Jezabel's arm had brushed against his, and Orion had felt fingers climbing under his sleeve, placing something there, as she murmured, "From my son, to Draco."

It had taken Orion a fraction of a second to understand that she had slipped a miniaturized letter under his sleeve, and he had given her a slight nod, not at all surprised that she knew that Draco was with him, given that she was a Seer, after all.

Though, before she took her last step to cross the threshold, she had shot him a covert, yet grim and urgent glance, as she whispered under her breath, "I and others of my kind have Seen many things. Troubling. Come to me when the time comes. You will know when."

And with that, the dark witch had continued on her way and left the room, to promptly disapparate from Malfoy Manor, leaving Orion feeling mystified, befuddled, and then apprehensive. But he had instantly masked it, and returned to his friends, glancing around and detecting that no one, Voldemort included, had noticed his brief interaction with the witch.

He had certainly been glad that her infamous reputation made others simply disregard her as a fortune hunter and little else. Indeed, he had begun thinking that it could be on purpose from her part, since it much availed her to be overlooked, no matter if her Seers powers were known. It surely gave her rein to act behind the scenes without anyone thinking she could be doing something important or threatening to other's plans.

Nevertheless, Orion had no delusions about Jezabel Zabini acting for his benefit. He knew little about her, but enough to know that she was on no one's side but her own. Yet, he could be sure about her regard for Draco, given her son's close friendship with him.

After that incident with Jezabel Zabini, just when everyone remaining started leaving as well, Voldemort had instantly grabbed Orion's arm when he was following Lezander and Calypso out of the room with the rest of the Elite.

Remembering what Voldemort had said to him in their private meeting, Orion shot Lezander an urgent glance, seeing how the vampire was pulling Calypso along with him, certainly without giving her the chance to disapparate away and flee from the 'chat' they were going to have.

Thankfully, the vampire caught sight of his glance, and even if Lezander's lips thinned when seeing that Voldemort was dragging Orion along the hallway, the young Rege nodded at him.

Nonetheless, Orion frowned when he saw Lezander disapparating with Calypso, knowing they would start having 'the conversation' without him. But there was little he could do, so he simply gestured at his Elite, giving them permission to leave Malfoy Manor, and he resignedly followed Voldemort into the parlor he was being led into, displeased that he had to stay behind to see the demonstration with the Mayan Stone instead of leaving right away to be with Lezander and Calypso.

But when Orion entered the parlor, he didn't see the Mayan Stone on a table ready to be used by Voldemort. Instead, he encountered Morticia Mortimer and Narcissa Malfoy, elegantly seated on a couch, not at all looking as if they had become bosom friends during the three hours they had been together. It was clear that the conversation between them had been stilted and scarce, since they promptly turned silent at his and Voldemort's entry.

Furthermore, Narcissa's dislike for the other witch could be noticed in imperceptible things – subtle indicators in her posture which Orion, knowing her well, picked up instantly. It wasn't at all surprising, since Morticia Mortimer was, of all things, smoking.

Orion almost gaped – pureblood witches simply didn't smoke. That was a muggle habit if there ever was a more blatant one, and the witch was indulging in it, in a dark pureblood manor – Malfoy ancestors had to be rolling in the underground pantheon. And there was no doubt that Morticia hadn't asked Narcissa for permission, but rather had done as she pleased with the self-confidence of one who knew well who had the power and most status.

Oh, wizards smoked too, the older ones mainly, but they used pipes and dried herbs. And by the smell and smoke lingering in the room, Morticia Mortimer was smoking chemically processed tobacco – muggle tobacco. Yet, she wasn't smoking a mere cigarette. She had between her fingers a very long, thin, black cigarette-holder, with a small cigarette peeking at its tip, as she elegantly took a slow draw from the tiny flat mouthpiece of the long holder, exactly like he had once seen in the telly, when his Aunt Petunia had been watching enraptured a movie about a the love life woes of a Russian countess or something of the sort.

And all the while, as Morticia placidly took another draw, Narcissa Malfoy had the pinched expression of one being choked by disgusting fumes, and masking her revulsion and contempt with a cold expression on her beautiful face, her nose high in the air, as if attempting to escape the pungent puffs of smoke.

The pureblood witch had certainly looked relieved at their entrance. Though she had merely fluidly stood up, uttered a proper yet stiff farewell to Morticia Mortimer, bowed to Voldemort, and then left the parlor, without a second glance towards Orion. Not that he held it against her, she was playing her part well.

Voldemort didn't seem pleased by Morticia's habit either, since the wizard promptly waved a hand and the air in the room cleared. But Morticia's lips merely tilted upwards, as if amused by the Dark Lord's reaction, and Voldemort merely arched a curt eyebrow at her, as if chiding a misbehaving child.

It elicited a spark of intense jealously in Orion, so sudden and encompassing that he was surprised by it.

He would be blasted into nothingness if he dared smoke in front of Voldemort's nose, or did anything which could be considered so disrespectful. It was evident that Voldemort's and Morticia's interaction was one to be found if not in friends, then in close acquaintances with common interests and who knew each other well. He didn't like it at all.

He might not be Voldemort's spouse anymore, but he still considered the wizard to be his, and he certainly disliked seeing him so chummy with another when Voldemort was such an utter bastard with him, still. He liked it even less when Voldemort gallantly poised an elbow as if offering his arm to her, which Morticia calmly took as she snuffed out her cigarette and stood up.

Now, Orion was presently staring at the mysterious witch, who took the steps to reach him, offering him her hand. And he knew, jealousies aside, that he simply didn't like her. It was a visceral feeling, something crawling in his guts, a mix of odd attraction to something about her surmounted by immense aversion. It was a strange feeling, but his first instincts and perceptions about people were rarely wrong.

"Allow me to introduce you to Lady Mortimer," said Voldemort pleasantly, who stood by their side as if overseeing a delicate first encounter which had to be utterly controlled by him, lest it didn't turn out how he had plotted.

Orion stared at the witch's proffered hand with a slight frown on his face. It was being held for him to take to his lips, as he had seen Voldemort do before, and as was proper and expected of him since she was a pureblooded witch.

He repressed a scathing, snide snort. He was in no mood to play the part of gallant pureblood, no matter if she was the richest woman on the planet. Therefore, he grabbed her hand, turned it, pulled it down and shook it, pasting a wide smile on his face. If his smile was sharp and nasty, he certainly didn't care.

Then, he saw it in her eyes, and he quickly reassessed Viktor's evaluation of her. Morticia was furious by his discourtesy, though the witch masked it well with her cold and impassive expression. But it was in her kohl-lined, black eyes - a certain spark of thunderous emotions. It was fury, sparked by such an inconsequential thing as being given a handshake instead of a kiss on her knuckles.

Yes, Viktor had been partially wrong. She was dangerous, undoubtedly, but not cold, no matter her masks and typical pureblood manners. She was passionate – she couldn't veil it in her eyes.

Not passionate in a romantic sense, by any means, but rather, he thought, darkly passionate as Voldemort could be, when he indulged in his sadistic streak, when he cast crucios and thoroughly relished the screams, when he plunged into Dark Arts ancient tomes or plotted whilst madly and obsessively hungering for more power.

And Orion understood, in that second, that it was precisely that type of dangerous, dark passion which Voldemort and Morticia must have recognized in each other, whenever they had met for the first time. They were alike in that sense, and had surely never encountered others like them in that regard. They must have taken to each other like kindred spirits.

Yet, even if she was like Voldemort in that aspect, and even though she seemed like a wild, dangerous animal who had no scruples in fiercely attacking and destroying anyone if she so desired, he didn't feel wary at all. If he could deal with Voldemort, he could certainly deal with this witch, whatever her business with them was.

Furthermore, he detected no great amount of magical power in her. Without casting a spell, he didn't have the ability to assess the precise intensity of a person's magical core, of course, but he could sense it if it was extraordinary. Magical levels like his, Voldemort's , Arian's and Dumbledore's were easy to detect, and Morticia didn't have it.

Thus, she had to be quite more powerful than average, like Calypso or Draco, but nothing breath-taking. Thus, he quickly concluded that if she had Voldemort's respect, and it wasn't due to any spectacular magical powers of hers, then it had to be due to the only other things Voldemort valued – magical knowledge, brilliancy of mind, and ruthless ambition.

Ambition and brilliancy she must certainly have, given the rumors about her genius in finance and business matters and her success in it. It was the magical knowledge part which puzzled him.

What could she know that could interest Voldemort, or that the wizard hadn't taken the time to study himself during the many decades of his existence? It was clear that Morticia had to be skilled in some area of magic, or very knowledgeable in it, when Voldemort wasn't, or the wizard wouldn't have reason to respect her.

"A pleasure to meet you at last, Lord Black," said Morticia, dropping her hand away from Orion's unceremonious handshake, and her tone was cool and polite, her voice deep, not delicately tilted, her accent heavily American. "I have heard, and read, much about you."

Orion cocked his head to a side, and said loftily, his smile widening, "I have never read about you, but I have certainly heard many rumors regarding you today."

"All of them are true," said Morticia, a sharp smile curving her lips, as her black eyes seemed to pierce into his green ones.

Orion grinned at her, not at all amicably, he couldn't help it. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Voldemort clicked his tongue, and Orion shot him a glance, seeing how the wizard was darkly glaring at him, promising retribution, with a hard expression on his face. Dear Voldie wasn't happy with his behavior towards the witch, was he?

Orion smirked at him, and then nonchalantly plopped on an armchair, comfortably stretching out his legs as he said airily, "Could I be informed what I'm doing here?" He glanced at them, a toothy grin on his lips. "Do sit down. Then, you can tell me."

"You're exactly how the Dark Lord described you to me," said Morticia coolly, flouncing the tail of her long, black gown to a side, as she took a seat across from him. "Despite that I was forewarned, I had expected civil and polite manners from someone who is hailed as 'Lord Black'. Someone who, as newspapers articles frantically speculate, is not only feared to become the next Dark Lord but who is also, indisputably, Gellert Grindelwald's true slayer, and more importantly, grandson."

"You must excuse him, Morticia," interjected Voldemort placidly, as if condescendingly discussing a runt having a temper tantrum, while he relaxedly took a seat by her side. "He is but a child and hasn't had the benefit of a pureblood rearing."

Orion bristled, shot him a dirty look, and spat sneeringly, "A 'child' you don't mind fucking into a wall every time the fancy strikes you."

Abruptly, at the same time that his scar flared in pain due to Voldemort's anger, there was a shocked gasp, and then deep, throaty laughter erupted from Morticia Mortimer's lips, her black eyes glinting with dark amusement and appreciation.

"You've made me change my mind about you, Lord Black." She let out a last chuckle, as she pierced him with shrewd eyes. "You have balls and gumption, which is far more important than manners and being respectful to your elder, in my book." Her expression turned devious and slyly assessing. "Yes, you're proof of it, indeed."

Orion eyed her closely, and if it wasn't for his gut-deep dislike of her, some of it would have diminished at her so unlady-like words, but it didn't, and his eyes narrowed in the next second. "I'm proof of what?"

"We owe Morticia much," said Voldemort sharply, utterly ignoring Orion's question as he skewered him with narrowed, angered crimson eyes. "It was thanks to her influence and connections that Conrad, Sormen and Rook were able to get their hands on the Mayan Stone and the documents related to it from the American Unspeakables. It is due to her that we have that tool in our power."

"We? You mean 'you'," retorted Orion curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze flickered between them, his eyes then narrowing to slits. "So this is about the Mayan Stone, then?"

"Not mainly," said Morticia pleasantly, her kohl-lined eyes glinting darkly. "We'll get to that later. I'm interested in knowing more about you." A corner of her lips curved upwards. "Are you not interested in making a better acquaintance of me, Lord Black?"

"Perhaps if I knew the purpose," said Orion flatly, scrutinizing her.

"A suspicious one, are you?" she said with a sharp, low chuckle. "Good for you, I say, for one should always be on guard." Her half-smile widened, as she fixedly gazed at him. "Ask me a question about myself. Something you're curious about. I'm sure you must have plenty."

"Alright," said Orion coolly, straightening up on his seat, welcoming the chance to discover what knowledge she possessed to make Voldemort respect her, if his hypothesis about it was correct. "I'll play your game. Which wizarding school did you attend?"

"Oh, I'm glad you asked that, Lord Black. You must have a sixth sense," said Morticia, her lips curving into a large, sharp smile, and it looked feral to him. "I attended the Instituto Teotihuacan de Magia de las Americas."

Utterly surprised, Orion's eyebrows shot upwards as he muttered, "Teotihuacan, 'The City of the Gods'... yes. I've read that there's a wizarding school in Mexico City named after the archeological site." He quizzically gazed at her, his interest highly piqued. "It is said that the school specializes in the ancient magic of the pre-Colombian era. Aztec, Mayan, Toltec and Olmec magic, to name some from Mexico. And also Incan magic from Peru, with the addition of Shaman magic from the Native American Indian tribes. A very thorough education in that type of ancient magic."

"You're well informed, or I should say, well-read," said Morticia placidly, satisfaction glinting in her cat-shaped, black eyes. "I'm told that you're rather bookish, perhaps on the way of wanting to become an erudite?"

She chuckled low in her breath, and Orion couldn't quite tell if he was being mocked or not. When it came to deviousness and viciousness, Voldemort and she could be siblings, from what he could detect so far. Though, she wasn't openly nasty and cruel like Voldemort could be, at least not yet.

"I've also heard that you're a Necromancer-"

"I'm not full-fledged," interjected Orion curtly, coming out of his musings about her. "I simply learned at Durmstrang-"

"But you do have the ability," interrupted Morticia sharply, all traces of apparent amusement leaving her face, as she intensely pinned him with her gaze. "It was with it that you resurrected your father, after he had been Kissed by a Dementor, was it not? A fine accomplishment. Very laudable and impressive, since it has never been done before. Did you know that Shamanism is similar to Necromancy?"

Orion was momentarily startled by the abrupt question, having been uttered with a demanding and expectant tone of voice. He kept silence, gauging her closely, and then glanced at Voldemort, trying to discern what was up and what they truly wanted with him. In the end, he simply decided to answer and wait for them to disclose the true purpose of their little meeting.

"Similar in that Shamans are believed to be intermediaries between the natural world and the spirit world?" he said coolly, waving a hand dismissively. "That they can mend souls and are able to enter supernatural realms to obtain answers to the problems of their community?" He let out a scoff, and rolled his eyes. "None of it is fully accurate. My Necromancy teacher once covered it in a lesson. There's a vast difference between Shamans and Necromancers."

"Which is?" prompted Morticia, fixedly gazing at him.

Orion shot her a frown. There was no doubt that she knew already, given that she had attended Teotihuacan. He was quite certain, by now, that it had to be precisely her knowledge about such ancient magic which interested Voldemort and had gained his respect.

He knew that Voldemort had travelled extensively, when he had been Tom Riddle between the time he left his job in Borgin and Burkes and then many years later returned to England to launch his so-called First Rise. But as far as he knew, the wizard had never delved deeply into the indigenous magic of the Americas. Voldemort had focused his journeys on Europe and the Middle East, and Asia in a lesser extent.

The wizard's travels in search of magical knowledge had always been something he envied. And now, knowing that Morticia was priced by Voldemort due to her knowledge of a type of ancient magic, he felt it more acutely – what he lacked when compared to Voldemort and the witch.

Sure, he knew other stuff they didn't, and he was only still sixteen and had his whole life ahead of him, but what he wouldn't give to have the luxury to leave it all behind, postpone wars, and simply trot around the world to his heart's and curiosity's content. Visiting countries which held the traces of the most magically powerful ancient civilizations: India, China, Japan, Egypt, Mexico, Greece, Syria, Iraq, Iran... What wonders and secreted magical knowledge he could learn during such travels.

And it depressed him a little, realizing that maybe he would never have the time for it, given that he was going to become the VA and was surely going to be very busy with everything it entailed.

Regardless, it was clear that her question, or his answer, had something to do with the real purpose behind her presence there. And it puzzled him exceedingly.

"Shamans can only communicate with the spirits of their ancestors and can only summon what they call 'guardian spirits'," Orion said at last, reciting from lessons learned, "which are simply animal or magical creature spirits they can force to posses them and thus use some of their physical traits, like vision, speed, strength and such. And truly powerful Shamans can adopt a guardian spirit's physical shape temporarily."

He paused, pondering how much to disclose about Necromancy, and then added dismissively, "Necromancers have no interest in the spirits of animals, only in the souls of humans and magical beings. And as you surely know, Shamanism is an ability carried in light blood, while Necromancy is a trait only found in dark lines." He shot her a calculating glance, scrutinizing her. "Is that what you learned to do in Teotihuacan, become a Shaman?"

"Oh, no. I'm a pureblooded dark witch through and through, not a drop of light blood in me," replied Morticia conversationally, "thus I didn't have the slightest chance to posses the ability, much to my disappointment." She sharply chuckled. "When I was younger I was certain that everything could be accomplished with dark magic."

Abruptly, her chuckles died off, and she speared him with an intense gaze, leaning forward on her seat, something glinting in her eyes, as she whispered in a low tone of voice, "But there are close substitutes, and there's always the other side of the galleon, isn't there? Shamanism and Necromancy are a fine example. A pity I don't posses the Necromantic ability either, although I'm very interested in having it in my line. And I believe you can help me with that, Lord Black."

Orion blinked at her, before his eyes suspiciously narrowed. "How so?"

A large smile curved Morticia's lips, as she stated coolly, "I want to marry your father."

Orion choked on his own tongue, utterly taken aback, feeling as if a Quidditch bludger had slammed against the side of his head out of the blue, leaving him dumb, dizzy and incoherent. When he finally stared at her as if she had grown a second head, he spluttered, "I beg your pardon?"

"I am going to marry Sirius Black," said Morticia matter-of-factly, her eyes glinting darkly, her tone as if informing him about the realities of life. "I'm not getting any younger, I have the duty to continue the Mortimer line, and I want my offspring to be more powerful than I am, and with advantageous magical abilities which my line lacks, at present."

At Orion's still shocked silence, she speared him with her gaze, and added curtly, her tone business-like and imperious, "I am a few years younger than your father, I have read about him in English newspapers, he is a dark pureblood, and I have chosen him to become my husband." She briskly gestured at Orion and his dark aura. "Given your obvious magical power and your Necromantic ability, it is evident your father is of good stock. And I want my children to inherit from their father the same as you have. Is it clear to you now?"

"Are you mad, witch?!" spat Orion, finally coming out from his flabbergasted state. "What on earth are you babbling about regarding my father? What was your hope in seeing me, to convince me to help you in getting your clutches on my dad-"

"I am deeply insulted," interrupted Morticia, her eyes narrowing to slits in anger, a hard and thunderous expression sweeping across her darkly beautiful face. "I assure you, Lord Black, that I need no assistance to conquer any man's heart."

Orion stared at her incredulously for one second, not sure if his leg was being pulled. When he saw that she was being quite serious about the matter, he loudly snorted, and said sneeringly, "Go ahead and try it. He would never pick someone like you in a million years-"

"Because I'm not someone like your deceased mother?" interjected Morticia, her tone sharp, condescending and scathing. "Because I'm not like Lily Potter? A hailed heroine and-"

"You got that right, witch!" spat Orion, bristling with fury, shooting a glare at Voldemort, who remained impassive and silent, but who was surely on the same boat as the witch. "I have heard the rumors about you, and you're the last person I would recommend to my dad as a prospective wife-"

"Because I'm a 'heartless man-eater'?" she prompted with a brief bout of sharp laughter, the sound wasn't pleasant. "Yes, I am. And your father has a reputation for being a womanizer. None of it matters in the production of heirs for my line. He is healthy, in an age considered as the beginning of a wizard's prime, and you're the proof that he can father powerful children-"

Orion wildly shook his head, and bit out with exasperation and boiling anger, "This is not a bloody business deal! And I don't see why you're bringing this up to me. My father chooses his own witches. I am his son, not his-"

"Exactly, you are his son," retorted Morticia with sharp impatience, her expression stern, "and the Lord of Black House, if my information is correct. As such, you can decide and enforce who your family members marry, including your father, since he passed the title and rights to you."

"Enforce?!" spat out Orion, seeing red at the mere idea of her scheme. "I'm not going to force my dad into marrying anyone. I don't know how stuff was done in your line, but I'm not that type of Lord in mine. These are not medieval times, witch. He will marry who he pleases, if he decides to marry at all. And if he does, be sure that it will be out of love, and not thinking about the magical power of his future children."

"He is penniless, is he not?" interjected Morticia sharply, arching a thin, black eyebrow at him. "You hold control over the Black fortune, not him. If you agree with what I want, I'm offering to share my own fortune with him, and you will no longer require to spend anything for his maintenance-"

"Bloody hell, as if I care about that!" snapped Orion crisply, doing his best to gain back his composure and calm down, still feeling as if he had dropped in a crazy alternate dimension. "My father is free to use as much money from the Black vaults as he likes. He isn't 'penniless' and doesn't need a wife to provide him with anything. He has me."

"Very well," said the witch curtly, her jaw clenching tightly. "Then I'm prepared to transfer to you a fraction of my fortune in exchange, which to you will be a considerable amount."

Orion gaped at her disbelievingly, before he bit out impatiently, "I'm not selling my father! Can't you get that through your head? I'm not interested in money, and he isn't either. By Merlin, your business affairs have gone up to your head. You can't buy a husband, at least not when it's my dad." He shook his head, and added caustically, "I repeat, he will marry whom he chooses, and I have nothing to do with it. Go see him and give it a shot if you like, but I'm telling you right now that you're not his type. He would never fall for someone like you-"

"Oh, leave that to me," said Morticia, with a dismissive wave of her hand, her black eyes glinting with satisfaction, as if she had won part of the argument, and with a spark of plotting, feral deviousness which made a shudder crawl down Orion's spine.

Orion held up a hand, gritting his teeth. "I don't want to hear anything more about this matter. Find someone else to marry and have babies with."

"You're being very foolish," interjected Voldemort abruptly, his tone sharp and stern, a glint of anger in his eyes. "Lady Mortimer's proposition is an advantageous one for Black House-"

Orion rounded on him before the wizard could say another word, his eyes narrowing to slits, as he hissed accusingly, _"This was your idea, wasn't it? You've convinced her to do this out of some devious reason of your own."_

Voldemort arched an eyebrow at him, and hissed impassively, _"Indeed not. Morticia has already explained her reasons to you. She wants an heir possessing the Necromantic ability and powerful in magic, and she's certain that your father can provide it, since he sired you."_ His lips curled, as he added in a scathing hiss, _"She has seen pictures of your father in the Daily Prophet, and his looks apparently appeal to her as well."_ He shot him a vicious smirk. _"She's quite set on having him, and you should consider it an honor to join the Black name to the Mortimer one."_

"_What's in it for you?"_ hissed Orion sharply, his eyes narrowing to slits. _"And don't say 'nothing' because I won't believe it. Try honesty for once, and maybe you'll give me a reason to take this seriously."_

Voldemort gauged him closely, piercing him with his crimson gaze, and finally hissed curtly, _"We need her on our side, happy and content, and your father is the ticket. She has expressed a willingness to provide us with funds for the war campaigns in continental Europe. She can afford to supply us with all required funds, the expense would hardly make a dent in her fortune-"_

"_So you basically want me to pimp out my father for it?!"_ hissed Orion disbelievingly, his jaw clenching as fury swept over him. _"You have the fortunes of your Death Eaters! You used them like that during your First Rise – you certainly leeched everything from the Rosier fortune, leaving it dry 'cause Evan Rosier gave you a free hand with it. Do it again with some of your minions."_

"_It is not enough,"_ hissed Voldemort sternly, his eyes narrowing. _"Waging wars is not cheap, boy. And I'm not about to indebt myself with the Goblins or Conrad and his sidekicks."_ His lips curled upwards. _"You, on the other hand, could chip in your fortune if you value your father's freedom from marital shackles more than the Black galleons."_

"_I'm already 'chipping in',"_ hissed Orion crisply, leaning back on his seat as he calmed down, trying to reason with the wizard. _"I'm financing Lycaon and the construction of the other werewolf communities that Wulfric and the continental Alphas have begun building. And that's the extent of my 'investment' in war causes, for the time being. You're not getting a single knut from me. What about Lucius…"_ He trailed off, understanding dawning on him, and he eyed him mockingly. _"Ah, I see, Lucius won't hand over his fortune to you, will he? Bet you threatened to kill him and he refused anyway. Knowing him, he rather die than see the Malfoy fortune disappear in the bat of an eyelash. Well, tough luck. Think of something else."_

"_I have,"_ hissed Voldemort shortly. _"Morticia is the means-"_

"_Absolutely not,"_ snapped Orion heatedly, glancing at the witch, who was gazing at them fixedly, obviously without understanding a word, but still looking fascinated by their hissing, as she observed them with a glint in her kohl-lined, black eyes.

Orion's eyes narrowed to slits as he glanced back at Voldemort. _"You haven't told her that my parseltongue ability comes from the Black line, have you?" _

At the wizard's devious curl of the lips, Orion knew that the man had indeed fed her that lie, and he repressed the impulse to throttle the smug bastard.

He finally speared Voldemort with a hard a gaze, and hissed crisply, _"Make the Dark Allies cover the expenses. The Americans are going to fatten their pockets with the banking rights of the Reconstruction, so it's only fair they provide the funds we'll need for the next wars. If they refuse, threaten to give the rights to the Goblins, and period." _

"_We still need Morticia on our side,"_ hissed Voldemort with angered impatience. _"The Mayan Stone-"_

"_I don't give a fuck about the blood__y Stone,"_ hissed Orion acidly, without caring to hear any more of the wizard's twisted reasons, whichever they were, turning to Morticia the next second. "There's no deal. Find yourself another husband."

A thunderous expression swept across her features, before a cold mask was pulled over her face, as she placidly leaned back on her seat, her gaze swiveling to Voldemort, as she said pleasantly, "Your father is a marked Death Eater, is he not?"

A chill ran down Orion's spine, and his gaze instantly zeroed in on Voldemort. "Don't you dare coerce my father into marrying this one under the threat of torturing him through the mark. Or of doing something to me, or any other thing your fucked up, warped mind has come up with. You touch my father and I'll kill you."

Voldemort eyed him condescendingly, sneering tartly, "I have no need to do anything to your father. Not that you could prevent it, if I wanted to. Mind who you're speaking to, boy."

"It's no use my Lord," said Morticia with a displeased tone of voice. "It's evident Lord Black will not see reason." Her black eyes zeroed in on Orion again, turning hard, as her tone became sharp and incisive, "I wanted to do this the nice way, but you leave me no alternative."

Orion frowned as she plucked out something from an undetectable pocket at one side of her gown, and in the next second she was tapping her wand at it, enlarging it until it was evident that she was holding a scroll in her hands.

With a snap of her wrist, the scroll unrolled, and Morticia presented him with the parchment, her lips curving upwards and with a victorious and nasty glint in her eyes, as she said pleasantly, "This gives me the indisputable right to marry your father, Lord Black."

With a feeling of impending doom, Orion clutched the parchment, and his stomach sickly churned as his gaze scanned the contents, the information reverberating in his mind: a marital magical contract… dated on 1943… unfulfilled… with no expiration date, deadline, or period of time… to be fulfilled by any member of the Mortimer line with a member of Black House… and at the end, two signatures – one of Mauricius Mortimer, the other of Walburga Black.

"I don't believe it," said Orion weakly, feeling ill, before his fingers tightened around the parchment and he pierced Voldemort with his eyes, his voice rising as he hissed, seething, _"You could have forged this. You're able to break magical contracts, so you could be able to create fake ones_-"

"_Check it yourself,"_ hissed Voldermort sharply, dark annoyance sweeping across his face.

And Orion surely did, casting every spell he knew and could think of. But it was no use, all gave the same results. The contract was valid, authentic, and the magical signatures were real.

"No," he croaked out at last, jerkily releasing the parchment, which floated down to his lap, as his gaze flickered from the self-satisfied Morticia to Voldemort, who merely looked impassive if not impatient with the proceedings. "My grandmother signed this? Before she had even graduated from Hogwarts, before being married and having children? What on earth possessed her?!"

"_Walburga wanted an alliance between the Black line and the Mortimer one,"_ hissed Voldemort placidly, his lips curling upwards, eyeing Orion with a viciously amused glint in his eyes, clearly savoring Orion's despair. _"Your grandmother was very ambitious and ruthless, surely you knew that. She couldn't marry Mauricius since she was already betrothed to her Black cousin, but she could still gain the Mortimer fortune for Black House if one of her children married a Mortimer."_ He mockingly clicked his tongue. _"Indeed, I think that when your father ran away and after your uncle was… ah, killed, what pained her the most was that she didn't have any of her boys left to fulfill the contract."_

Orion bristled at the mention of Regulus being 'killed' and the mode in which it was said, as if Voldemort had had nothing to do with it. But he promptly swallowed his fury, and gestured at the parchment on his lap, not wanting to touch it, bizarrely feeling as if he would be tainted if he did, and he hissed sharply, _"Destroy it. You know how. Do it."_

A loud bout of laughter sprung from Voldemort's throat, nasty and vicious - and really, Orion knew he shouldn't have expected anything else. _"Why would I do that, my little serpent? It serves my purposes to have your father bounded by that contract, now that Morticia has claimed who she wants to fulfill it with. As Goblins say, the gold will flow."_

"_I'm going to check this, you know?"_ bit out Orion angrily, briskly carding his fingers through his hair. _"I'll talk with Walburga's portrait-"_

"_By all means, do so,"_ hissed Voldemort dismissively. _"She'll tell you the same as I have."_ His lips curled upwards, his crimson eyes glinting. _"And perhaps she'll try to convince you to marry Morticia yourself, so that 'Lord Black' can get his claws into the Mortimer fortune, instead of being gained by your father, her undeserving son whom she loathes so deeply. But she likes you, doesn't she? Yes, she will tell you to use the contract yourself."_ He tilted his head to a side, eyeing him mockingly. _"Would you, Orion? Would you leave that filthy halfbreed of yours and become Morticia's husband, to save your father from such fate?" _

Orion heatedly glowered at him, but didn't say a word. They both knew the answer. Even if he wasn't bonded with Lezander, even if he loved no one at all, he didn't think he could stomach marrying a witch like Morticia had proven to be.

He eyed her with contempt and deep-rooted aversion. She was beautiful, no doubt, but she was old for him, being in her late thirties, and looked it – not like Voldemort who looked in his prime. But he could overlook her age, even her gender. What he couldn't, was her personality. She was a forked-tongue snake, in the Gryffindor worst sense of the word; a manipulative, devious bitch with no scruples. A kind of female Voldemort without the wizard's amounts of power, wit, or magical prowess and brilliancy to remotely entice him, no matter is she was a finance wiz and brilliant in that regard.

Nevertheless, he wondered for a moment why Morticia hadn't demanded to have him for a husband. He was the extraordinarily powerful one with Necromantic abilities, not his father, even though she was right in expecting Sirius to pass on some of those traits to any other children he could have. But Orion could quickly guess that Voldemort hadn't given her that option and that she had to feel more attraction towards Sirius, a man a bit older than her, than towards him, just about to turn seventeen. She didn't look the type to like wizards much younger than her, and she probably considered him a mere adolescent.

"_Y__ou wouldn't sacrifice yourself for your father, my little serpent?"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, gazing at him tauntingly, the nasty viciousness in his crimson eyes still present. _"Why, such a role model son as yourself. I'm astounded. You resurrected him, saved his soul from eventual obliteration and eternal non-existence, but you wouldn't take his place in a marriage that will break him? And be certain that it will." _His lips curled upwards with relish. _"Morticia will wrap him around her little finger to use him to beget the heir she wants, then she will make him miserable and psychologically torture him and toss him aside, and he will despair until the end of his days, most surely still pinning after her."_

Orion gritted his teeth and stared at him hatefully. The wizard had done nothing but cruelly mock and taunt him whenever he found the chance. Oh, he knew why – it was just the beginning of his punishment for having completed the bond with Lezander. And it would go on, particularly in bed. The wizard would brutally use him, without caring about his pain or pleasure, Merlin knew for how long.

He inwardly scoffed. As if he cared. He was quite used to dealing with Voldemort in the sack when the wizard was in one of his sadistic and cruel moods. He would give as much as he took, that was certain. Though Merlin knew why thinking about it thrilled him. Why, despite what he had initiated with Lezander and Draco, which made him feel so wonderful, wanted and loved, he still felt such a fiery and intense attraction towards Voldemort and still wanted the bastard so much it hurt.

He was a masochist and a sucker for impossibly tough challenges and love-hate thrills, no doubt about it. He had known that about himself for a very long while – it had been Gellert who had pointed it out to him, crookedly smirking and with dark amusement glinting in his hawk-like, hazel eyes. He still remembered the wizard's advice accompanied by his crowing laughter, it had been simple – enjoy your 'twistedness'.

Circe, he missed the man so much.

"_You t__hink it will be my father's downfall," _Orion hissed coolly, pulling out of reminiscences, as he gazed at Voldemort scornfully, _"and you cannot wait for it to happen, to see it pain me. Well, you have another thing coming. And even if I find no way out for him, you underestimate him if you think this bitch-"_ he shot Morticia a venomous glance _"- can make him 'despair'. He's made of much sterner stuff than that. He's survived much worser things, and bounced back on his feet. And he's quite capable of charming and making any witch he wants to fall in love with him. He'll be warned about Morticia, and just wait and see which of them will wrap the other around their little finger."_ He nastily smirked at him. _"And I will persuade him to crush her the moment he does."_ He tilted his head to a side, his smirk widening tauntingly. _"Of course, I'll tell him to wait until the time she has given us the galleons to fund the wars." _

"_I will enjoy hearing from Morticia about __what, __unequivocally, __will be your father's pathetic attempts to control her,"_ hissed Voldemort placidly, vicious relish glinting in his crimson eyes.

"We are in agreement?" said Morticia, more a statement than a question, her black eyes swiveling from Orion to Voldemort and back, satisfaction clearly written on her features.

Orion shot her a poisonous glare, wishing he could wring her neck. Then, his eyes narrowed musingly as he stared at her. Why not? He could indeed kill her. Not at present, not with Voldemort there. But he could find out where she lived, pay her a visit and off her. Or perhaps wait until she married his father and kill her then. A wide smirk spread on his face. Then, Sirius would get the Mortimer fortune and Voldemort wouldn't see a knut of it – it would serve the wizard right. An apt retribution.

"_Do not even consider the possibility, Orion," _hissed Voldemort sharply, his crimson eyes narrowing to slits. _"If you attempt to kill her or dispose of her in any other way, I will kill your father."_

Orion cocked an eyebrow, utterly unruffled, and shot him a nasty grin. _"You know me well. Fear not, the bitch is safe from me - for now." _

He swiftly rolled the contract and tossed it at Morticia, as he added coolly, "I'll tell my father about this and you should go to Grimmauld Place to meet him some day soon. Have Narcissa Malfoy take you there, she knows where it is." He narrowed his eyes at her, and warned threateningly, "Be aware that if you go ahead with your plan, I'll be checking my father for love spells, potions and such. And if I see you that you tried to mess up with him, I'll make you rue the day you were born, witch. There will be no foul play in this, if he decides to have you."

A sharp, wide smile stretched on Morticia's lips. "I require the aid of no spells or potions to make a man mine, Lord Black. I'll let the insult pass, since I'm glad you have come to your senses."

Orion's jaw clenched. Circe, he would have never thought he could hate someone so quickly. But his father could handle a witch like her if worse came to worst, couldn't he? He had faith in Sirius, and he dearly hoped so.

The contract was iron-clad and indestructible, as all magical contracts between purebloods were - they made sure of it. And not for the first time, he wished he knew how Voldemort could break and destroy contracts. He had looked into it once, but he had found no spells for it in books, and when he had asked around –to Calypso, her father, the Elite, Snape, Grindelwald, and even Roman Komorov himself, who had been a famed Curse Breaker- none had known. It was considered impossible.

Merlin knew in which country and from whom Voldemort had picked it up. And it was even more probable that Voldemort had created the spell for it on his own – which made it impossible for him to discover, unless he took months to solely work on researching and testing to create one himself. Even then, he didn't know if he would succeed. Voldemort knew much more than him, in that regard, as in many others.

And the moment a Mortimer –Morticia– wrote down the name of the chosen Black in the blank spot for it in the contract, Sirius would be bounded to marry her, or else die by his own magic. The contract was the sort which could be likened to an Unbreakable Vow, and he had discerned no loopholes in it, and he had indeed looked for them in the contractual terms while testing the document.

Regardless, Morticia hadn't written any name yet, except her own. At least that indicated that she wanted to meet Sirius in person, before sealing the matter. Nonetheless, he didn't think Morticia would be deterred even if he warned Sirius and told his father to act like a total loser, loony or anything else imaginable. Morticia wanted a powerful heir from her husband, and clearly wouldn't care about her future husband's character, only about the magical traits and abilities he could pass on.

Well, he would discuss the matter with Sirius, they would come up with some options and plan for it. He could still kill her at some point without Voldemort knowing he had been behind it. He could use the same trick he had employed with Grindelwald at Nurmengard - create a replica of her body with the Necromantic spell, and then make it look as if she had died in an accident. He could push the replica down some stairs, while he killed the real witch and disposed of her body. Or something of the sort. And even if Voldemort already knew about the Necromantic spell he had used at Nurmengard on Gellert, the wizard wouldn't be able to find any proof of it if he employed that trick again.

Yes, there were many ways. Orion started to cheer up, the horizon of possibilities not looking so grim anymore but quite bright.

He glanced at them, and swiftly rose to his feet as he said nonchalantly, "Well, I can't say it has been a pleasure but at least our present business together is over." He shot Morticia a sharp grin, tilting his head to a side. "Perhaps I won't mind calling you 'mum' in the future, after all."

The witch suspiciously narrowed her black eyes at him, clearly not liking his current unflappable, calm attitude. In the next second, a half-smile stretched on her lips as she said coolly, "It would be an honor if you regarded me as your own mother once I'm joined with your father." Her smile widened as her eyes gleamed darkly. "Indeed, I will provide you with a sibling in a year or two. I'm sure you'll make an excellent older brother."

A muscle in Orion's jaw twitched, but he didn't beep a word, he merely turned around and headed for the door.

"_Where do you think you're going?__ I haven't given you permission to leave, my little serpent. There's the demonstration-_"

"Ah, yes," said Orion as he swirled around to face Voldemort, frowning. "Well, I have to see to some business elsewhere right now. So that will have to wait." He waved a hand dismissively. "Give me thirty minutes or so. I'm sure you can use the time to prepare stuff or whatever."

He was out of the room before he gave the wizard a chance to stop him, pausing for a moment at the hall, as he closed his eyes and concentrated, dissapparating in the next second.

* * *

"What on earth…" muttered Orion with alarm the moment he landed in his bedroom in Zraven Citadel, seeing all his things upturned as if a pack of crazed leprechauns had raided his room in search of a golden galleon.

His books, which he kept neatly stacked on the desk, were all over the place, littering the bed, some having been dropped to the floor, as if discarded as uninteresting. His trunk, which he didn't keep warded in the Citadel, was open, with the Invisibility Cloak dangling from one edge, clearly having been pawed all over. Countless parchments, his perfect notes for his PRIMEs, along with quills, robes and several of his other possessions, were all scattered about. Even his wardrobe, closet and dresser looked as if they had withstood a rabid assault.

And there, amidst the mess, was Draco, comfortably seated on an armchair, placidly reading, with his nose stuck in a Dark Arts tome – one of Orion's books, at that.

"Oi, Malfoy! What's the meaning of this?" snapped Orion with annoyance, glowering at the young wizard.

"Oh, it's you," drawled Draco, looking up from the book and snapping it shut the next second. He calmly stood up, and then shot Orion a scowl. "I was bloody bored, Potter. You've been gone for ages and I have none of my stuff here. What was I supposed to do in this darned place? Watch the thestrals pasture? Commune with the outdoor nature?"

"So you decided to ransack my bedroom?" said Orion disbelievingly, eyeing his room appalled, with horror at the sheer mess. "You went through my things? Bloody hell, Draco, there's a huge library in the Citadel. You could have entertained yourself there."

He started waving his wand, making things fly back into their proper place, as he shot the boy a glare, snapping crisply, "Or you could have gone to the barracks to get to know the Zraven fighters, or to the courtyard to make some friends, or you could have sought out Mireilla so that she could introduce you around, or you could have just simply taken a stroll around the bloody Citadel and interact with the people here!"

Draco shrugged his shoulders unrepentantly, as he drawled coolly, "Going through your stuff sounded more interesting to me." He shot him a smirk and took two steps to grab the Invisibility Cloak, eyeing it closely, clicking his tongue with dissatisfaction. "It doesn't look like much. Quite disappointing."

"Give me that," snapped Orion, swiftly yanking it away from Draco's clutches to then fold it and place it back into his trunk, with much tenderness and care. "You've already seen it before. It's nothing new to you."

Draco scowled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, but I didn't know then that it was a Hallow, did I?" He shot the Cloak a miffed glare, as if it had mortally insulted him in some way. "I tried to make it do something, and it just laid there, as any other ordinary invisibility cloak."

Orion snorted, rolling his eyes. "What did you expected it to do? Throw you a party and sing you a sonnet?"

"How are you supposed to join it with the other Hallows, then, if it does nothing, eh?" bit out Draco bristling, glowering at him. "I was trying to figure that out, Potter."

"Well, I appreciate the effort, but keep your paws away from my stuff, next time," grumbled Orion, continuing to arrange his possessions with flicks of his wand.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, little kitten," drawled Draco, shooting him a wide, taunting smirk.

"Don't call me that," snapped Orion shortly, throwing him a glower over his shoulder.

"The vampire does," said Draco impassively, his smirk widening as his silvery eyes gleamed. "With your pointy little fangs and all, you do look like a cute little kitten, like Zraven says."

Orion turned pink to the tips of his ears. "Shut up. It's different when Lez calls me that." He shot him a dark glare. "You can stick to 'Potter', Malfoy."

Draco sniggered loudly and Orion shot him a baleful glower, but he paused in mid flick of his wand when he caught sight of Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait out of its usual place inside his trunk, unshrunk and tottering against a corner of a window.

He made his way towards it, shooting Draco a quizzical glance over his shoulder. "You spoke to Phineas?"

"Our ancestor wasn't very pleased with me," said Draco dourly, darkly scowling. He sniffed disdainfully. "Don't know why I bothered. He asked me where I was and he started shouting at me the next second, about a Malfoy and a Black cavorting with halfbreeds. Turned up his nose at me, he did, the pompous git, and then just vanished into the frame and never came back." He kicked the foot of the bed with a crossed expression on his face, then adding with a caustic sneer, "Only spoke to him because I was bored, you know. Didn't entertain me much in the end."

Orion chuckled under his breath, imagining the conversation between the two purebloods. Poor Draco, he did pity him for having been subjected to one of Phineas' righteous rants about what Blacks were and weren't allowed to do and proper pureblood behavior and lifestyle choices.

When he had gotten hold of the portrait, he sat down on the bed and swiftly tapped the frame with his wand, as he called out loudly, "Phineas, come out – I have something to ask you!"

In the next moment, the old wizard appeared in the portrait, sourly glaring at him as he took a seat in the room illustrated at his back. "You have finally decided to face me, have you, boy? Now I understand why you haven't spoken to me for so long. No wonder, the shame you have brought to Black House by your actions alone…" He trailed off, glancing at Orion's surroundings, his lips twisting and contorting. "Residing and mingling with halfbreeds-"

"Zip it and mind your own business," snapped Orion crisply, then rolling his eyes. "I need you to visit Walburga's portrait in Grimmauld Place." He pierced the old wizard in the portrait with a stern gaze. "Ask her if she ever signed a marital contract in behalf of Black line with Mauricius Mortimer. The wizard's grandniece now has one and wants to use it to marry my father."

Phineas' eyebrows climbed upwards, and before the man could beep another word, Orion pressed on curtly, "Just go, and come back with her answer as quickly as possible. If it's true, then she can tell you about it."

"Very well," said the portrait gruffly, shooting him a reprehensive glower before he disappeared into the frame.

Draco immediately sat by Orion's side on the bed, staring at him fixedly. "A marriage contract with a Mortimer? What's this about?"

Orion quickly related to him what had happened during the meeting with Morticia Mortimer and Draco's eyebrows shot upwards. "I heard a lot about her from my father in the past. And she wants to marry your dad?"

"Apparently," groused out Orion shortly.

Draco musingly stared at him, a calculating sparkle in his silvery eyes. "A union between Mortimer and Black House is very advantageous, Potter-"

"Don't want to hear it," snapped Orion gruffly.

"It's true," abruptly proclaimed Phineas, practically chirping as he suddenly popped into his portrait. He shot Orion a wide, content smirk. "Well, Walburga has surpassed herself this time. Never breathed a word to anybody about it, the sly witch." He closely peered at Orion and whispered conspiratorially, "No matter what she says, I think she never thought the contract would come up after Regulus died and your father ran away and was later imprisoned. She's gloating now, quite satisfied with herself that a Mortimer has appeared wanting to fulfill the contract. But she thinks it's best if you were the one instead of you father, boy." He pensively stared at Orion, a musingly devious expression on his face. "And I think she's right. That father of yours is no proper Black-"

"Don't care about your opinions," interrupted Orion tartly, quite angered and annoyed by the whole thing as he glared at Phineas. "And Walburga will be hearing me some day, next time I pop into Grimmauld Place. She should have never have signed anything. She's caused quite a mess." He gritted his teeth, and added shortly, "Tell her to inform my dad about it and to tell him that I want to see him in Potter Manor tomorrow morning, to discuss it."

Phineas harrumphed and made a move to disappear into the frame, shooting Orion one last censuring and displeased glower.

"Oi, wait!" said Orion quickly. "Before you leave, what news is there from the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts?"

"Headmistress' office now, boy," said Phineas coolly, turning back to gaze at him. "The Board of Governors have chosen Minerva McGoganall to stand as the interim Headmistress." He brushed nonexistent lint from his robes, and drawled disinterestedly, "Hogwarts is to reopen for the next school year after the summer holidays. They have decided it's for the best. Seems that Minister Scrimgeour wants to allay worries about how their side is faring in the war by keeping business as usual. Light wizards would pitch a fit and would be very concerned if Hogwarts didn't operate." He paused, and then closely gazed at Orion. "Many strange and foreign wizards have been coming and going to the office, discussing many things."

Orion shot him a frown. "With McGonagall – about what?"

"You, mainly. A Grindelwald, eh?" murmured Phineas, leaning forward, his face occupying the whole expanse of the portrait as he intensely peered at Orion, a large smirk curving his thin lips. "I knew you couldn't be a halfblood, boy. I knew you couldn't be so powerful without a sensible explanation behind it. No Lord of Black House could possibly be a halfblood." A dark scowl abruptly crossed his features, and he grumbled, "I wonder if Arcturus' portrait had an inkling. Crafty old buzzard, could have told me. He has some explaining to do, he has."

And with that, Phineas disappeared from his portrait without so much as a by your leave, obviously on his way to pester the stern, curt and solemnly tight-lipped Arcturus.

"He didn't shout at you," complained Draco sourly, crossing his arms over his chest as he darkly glared at the empty portrait in Orion's hands. "He screamed at me for being in a vampire citadel, and he didn't even raise his voice at you. And he knows that you're Zraven's lifemate, to boot."

Orion shot him a smirk as he stood up, flicking his wand to shrink the portrait and place it inside his trunk. "I'm the Lord of Black House, of course he didn't dare shout at me. Phineas knows better than to do that."

Draco shot him an irked scowl and Orion merely grinned at him, as he waved his wand and finished arranging his room. It was done in a mere few seconds, while he shot Draco a stern glance clearly conveying he didn't want to discuss the marital contract matter when the young wizard attempted to do so.

With a last flick of his wand finally settling everything in the room, Orion sighed, carded his fingers through his hair and glanced up at the young wizard. "Have you seen Lezander? I'm looking for him-"

"He's in his room," scoffed Draco, looking highly miffed. "He's locked himself up with Calypso there. Kicked me out, they did. Apparently they had some things to discuss and my presence wasn't welcomed. They've been there, arguing and bickering, for ages. Hell if I know what's going on, not that I care-"

"I told them to wait for me," groused out Orion crossly. "I knew they wouldn't. I took too long with that damned witch…"

He was about to turn around and head for Lezander's room, when he remembered something.

"Oh, this is for you," he said, as he plucked out the tiny letter from under his sleeve, giving it a tap with his wand and handing it over when it was back to its normal size. "It's from Blaise. His mum gave it to me to pass it along."

"From Blaise?" said Draco joyously, his face brightening as he eagerly tore up the envelope, then swiftly unfolding the parchment.

His silvery gaze quickly roved over the contents, so many different expressions crossing his features that Orion's interest was highly piqued.

Orion peered at him, and asked with deep curiosity, "What does it say?"

Draco's fingers clenched around the letter. He looked up at Orion, his face an emotionless mask, as he drawled coolly, "It's true about Hogwarts. Blaise received a letter from McGonagall, informing him about the books and stuff he'll need for his seventh year. And he…" His jaw clenched, and then he bore his piercing eyes into Orion's. "He warns me about those who have taken the Dark mark. Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore Nott… many older Slytherins too, that have already graduated, Adrian Pucey, Marcus Flint… He reckons that if they see me, they'll take me to Voldemort." He glanced away from Orion and shrugged with seeming indifference. "I wouldn't expect anything else. For them it's either take me to Voldemort or be killed in punishment." His expression hardened, and he added irked, "The Greengrass sisters apparently want nothing to do with me either."

Orion tilted his head to a side, regarding him closely. "It was to be expected after what's happened. Surely you're not lamenting that the Greengrass family has broken the negotiations with your mother. I never thought you had any real interest in Astoria Greengrass."

"She would have made a proper wife, a proper Lady Malfoy," said Draco curtly. He shook his head, his grim expression vanishing, and shot him a smirk. "Better than Pansy would have, anyway. Thankfully _that_ marriage contract was never signed when we were younger."

Orion chuckled under his breath, remembering the pandemonium Draco had caused when finally firmly informing his parents that he would rather break his wand and flee to the muggle world than take Pansy for a wife. The Malfoys had quickly relinquished the idea of that union, though the girl certainly never had.

Up until a month ago, Pansy was still acting around Hogwarts as if she had every claim to Draco, poisonously glaring at little Astoria Greengrass in her fourth year in Ravenclaw House, and wrapping herself around Draco every chance she found. And given her infatuation, clearly besotted and in love with Draco since they were ten years old, he wondered if Pansy would really take Draco to Voldemort if she had the chance. Even if she was marked, Orion had the suspicion that she wouldn't have it in her to do so. Pansy was a shallow, conceited nuisance, they had always disliked each other, but he had to concede that she had always been good to Draco, in her proprietary and pampering way.

"You made sure of that," quipped Orion amusedly, pulling out of his musings, "by throwing so many temper tantrums that your parents had to yield and look for someone else."

Draco intensely pierced him with his silvery eyes. "Yes, and my father then made the contract for our union, signing in your behalf as your guardian. And I signed it too." His lips twisted into a grimace. "We all know how that turned out." A disgusted expression swept over his face, as he briskly gestured at the room. "And now, here I am, amidst halfbreeds."

"Now, here _we_ are, amidst _vampires_," said Orion calmly, then shooting him a rakish grin. "And I certainly didn't hear you complain about it last night, Drakey, if your loud throaty moans were anything to go by."

"Stuff it, Potter," bit out Draco, darkly glowering at him. "If I did make some small sounds it certainly wasn't due to your incompetence and fumbling attempts in the sack." He lifted his chin up, and said stiffly, "It was your bloody dark magic swirling all around-"

"Please," snorted Orion, eyeing him with amusement, "I'm freaking fantastic in bed and you know it. I vastly proved it last night."

Draco disdainfully scoffed but didn't say anything, and in the next second, he shot him a smug smirk, dangling the letter in front of Orion's nose. "But I might not be stuck here, after all. Blaise tells me that I can stay in his villa, if I want."

"You can't," interjected Orion instantly, his voice curt and firm. "This is the safest place for you. And the Zabini Villa in Italy is the first place that Death Eaters must be monitoring, looking for you."

"It's heavily warded," snapped Draco vehemently, scowling at him. "And if Blaise says it's safe, then I believe it. He would never betray me. He's neutral in the war-"

"But not his mum," interrupted Orion sternly, pinning him with his green gaze. "I told you what she's doing for us, because Voldemort threatened to mark Blaise if she didn't comply. Sure, she gave me the letter for you, but it doesn't mean she's prepared to risk her life and her son's just to hide you in her home."

The moment the young wizard opened his mouth again, Orion held up a hand, and said sharply, "You know you can't go, Draco, so there's no point in discussing it further. Just keep in contact with him through letters."

"Fine," groused out Draco, with a moody expression on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. He shot him a dirty look, and sneered caustically, "How do I that, Potter? I haven't seen an owlerly-"

"Ravens," interjected Orion calmly. "They use ravens here. You can find them at the bird house by the courtyard." He gestured at his desk. "I'll let you get on with it. You can use my parchments and quills. And do try not to make a mess of things again."

He gave Draco one last stern glance and then quickly headed for the door.

"Are you coming back tonight?"

Orion halted mid step at the threshold, and shot him a glance over his shoulder. "Probably not."

He saw Draco's lips thinning, an angered, grim and dissatisfied expression on his handsome patrician features, but he simply ignored it. He had told him that he would still be with Voldemort, and the young pureblood would just have to come to terms with it.

In a flash, Orion was across the hallway, in front of Lezander's room and about to slam the door open. But with a hand on doorknob, he stilled when he heard the arguing, fired voices coming from within and his ears perked up.

"… you must tell him, Scaly! I don't want to keep this from him. He has a right to know, it affects him too-"

"No, it doesn't. It's solely my business, Lez-"

"It's not! How many times must we go through this? You're the closest one to him and it can be used against him because he would do anything for you and everyone knows it. Just think what would happen if some of his enemies… Merlin, even Voldemort himself – think what would happen then, if they used it to force him into something, if they threatened to-"

"I can deal with anything that happens. And are you trying to imply that I'm betraying Orion? That I'm a traitor because I don't want to tell him?"

"If you put it that way, then yes, Scaly. What do you want me to say? You're keeping something from him that affects him greatly, whether you like to admit it or not-"

"I am no traitor! I would never do anything to truly betray him in any way-"

"You are right now by not telling him, Scaly! I don't understand it. Why haven't you told him? It's not something you can 'fix', you must see that. And you clearly cannot manage on your own. I think you need help and protection, and Orion would give it to you. I would too-"

"I don't need anyone's help! I repeat for the umpteenth time that I can indeed manage on my own perfectly well-"

"What do you fear, Calypso? Do you think he will hold it against you? He won't, once you explain what happened and what you did-"

"I'm not telling, and that's it. And you better keep your mouth shut, Lez."

"I don't have a choice now, do I?"

Their voices died off, leaving fuming silence behind, and Orion decided it was time to get his answers, since what he had overheard had certainly not elucidated matters to him. On the contrary, he was even more puzzled and befuddled than before.

He calmly turned the knob, parted the door wide open, and strolled into the room, instantly zeroing in his gaze on them. Lezander looked exasperated and angered, with arms crossed over his chest, while Calypso had a mutinous and stubborn expression on her face.

They both looked up at him, and while Lezander barely changed his expression, not looking at all surprised by his entry, Calypso, on the other hand, looked worried about the possibility of him having heard them.

"So…" said Orion slowly, his gaze flickering from one to the other. "What's up? Are you going to finally tell me, Scaly?"

Calypso's lips thinned and she crossed her arms, turning her head to a side, without looking at him. Well, tempers were still riding high, it seemed. He could even feel the tension in the air.

Orion arched an eyebrow and then shot Lezander a glance, but the vampire didn't look at him either, the pale blue eyes were fixed on Calypso.

He cleared his throat, and said pointedly, "If you won't, Lez will. So it's preferable if you just come out with it."

"See if he dares," bit out Calypso, snapping her head around to glower at Lezander.

Orion frowned, but before he could get in another word, the vampire rounded on her.

"You know what, Calypso," said Lezander sharply with a hard expression on his face, "I may not be able to tell Orion anything but I sure as hell can do something about it." In the next second, he turned his head to a side and hollered, "Cyprian!"

Orion nearly jumped out of his skin at the abrupt shout. And while he still didn't understand what was going on, he saw that Calypso was looking confused as well, now.

In the next bat of the eyelash, the Zraven Commander seemed to come out from the shadows at one corner of the room, and the vampire was by Lezander's side in a flash, clearly expectantly awaiting for some order or other.

"Take her to a guest quarter," said Lezander curtly, jutting his chin in Calypso's direction. "She is not to leave the Citadel."

With a nod, Cyprian was instantly standing behind Calypso, swiftly plucking out her wand from her robes' pocket whilst firmly taking a hold of her shoulders, and he started to frogmarch her forward, headed for the corner.

"What?!" said Calypso in a disbelieving and stunned high-pitch, roaring with anger in the next second, struggling against the hold on her. "You cannot do this, Lez! You have no right-"

"You're going to stay here," snapped Lezander briskly, "and you'll take the time to think matters over. Time spent in solitude and isolation will certainly help in that. It will do you some good. And you are not going to participate in the attacks of August the first. That's final."

"Orion!" said Calypso loudly, her voice beseeching, her expression pleading, as Cyprian kept dragging her and she uselessly struggled against him. "Orion, you cannot let him do this, imprison me here – do something – stop it!"

Orion anxiously glanced at her, Lezander, and back, biting his lower lip. He didn't know what to do. He didn't like seeing her like that, so frantic, with teary eyes, being dragged against her will, and much less forced into staying in a room, as some sort of prisoner. But when he glanced at Lezander, he saw firm conviction there and he couldn't believe that the vampire would do anything this drastic if it wasn't required. Lezander knew Calypso's secret, so he must be acting for her sake.

But it tore him nonetheless, when Cyprian finally pulled her into the corner, kicking and screaming, because he saw the hurt expression on her face as she gazed at him, before they both disappeared as if swallowed by the shadows.

The moment they were gone, silence reigned in the room, and Orion warily glanced at Lezander, feeling apprehensive and also guilty because in a way he had betrayed her by not helping her – he had seen she thought that, in her eyes.

"What on earth is going on, Lez?" he asked quietly, fixedly staring at the vampire.

"You overheard what we were saying," said Lezander with a weary sigh, distractedly rubbing his cheek, "I felt you were there, standing behind the door. For that I'm glad, since I cannot tell you about Calypso." He shot Orion a grimace. "She made me take an Oath."

"What?" said Orion gaping at him, momentarily struck dumb. Then he understood his words and saw red, shouting with fury, "Merlin's great balls of fire, how could you have been so stupid?! You let her trick you into giving a Wizard's Oath about not telling her secret? Why the hell did you-"

"You would have given her the Oath too," snapped Lezander angrily, "if she had started sobbing on your shoulder, Orion!"

"I wouldn't have been as soft-hearted as you evidently were!" spat Orion seething, gritting his teeth and balling his hands.

"No, you would have been worse," bit out Lezander crisply. "You've always been much softer and gentle to her than I ever was."

Orion clenched his jaw, knowing he was right, but that didn't make it any better and he started pacing the room angrily. "So you cannot tell me anything, not even a hint, or you'll lose your magic. So what I am supposed to do now to find out? I was counting on you! She won't tell me, that's evident."

He darkly glared at the vampire over his shoulder, without pausing his strides around the room. "Then what? Must I rip her clothes off her, to check every inch of her body for brands, to see if she has joined some group? What, the Aux, the Death Eaters, the Order, Arian?! To help me on her own behind the scenes? And now she's in trouble with them? But marks can be glamoured and even I couldn't cancel such spell if it was a blood-glamour. Or a mark can be invisible to those without one, I know that well, like the Aux's VA mark and my very own Black mark which she created... So did you see a mark on her through a blood-glamour, with that vampire vision of yours, and I which can't?"

He shot Lezander a glance, but the vampire remained silent with a grim expression on his face, and Orion clenched his jaw and then muttered with a frown, "It could be, because she doesn't want me to mark her with my own brand. And she doesn't allow anyone to touch her or be physically close to her, so maybe she's hiding a mark with magic and doesn't allow anyone to sense it by keeping herself apart. Or did you detect something else? Is she doing something for Morgana? Are the Spirits behind it? It could be, because she started acting strangely at the beginning of the year at Durmstrang."

He finally shook his head, throwing up a hand with angered exasperation, and snapped caustically, "I don't have the foggiest idea about what it could be, Lez. Maybe it has nothing to do with joining anybody. So should I legilimize her forcibly-"

"No," interrupted Lezander firmly, shaking his head. "Don't do that. She would never forgive you."

The young vampire Rege deeply sighed and then reached Orion, placing his hands on Orion's shoulders, stilling him from his brisk pacing. "Don't do anything. She will tell you, in time. She simply needs some time to think and some time to herself. She's overtaxed." He pointedly pierced him with his eyes. "And you weren't helping in that regard either. You've given her too much to do. You depend on her too much. You need to start delegating tasks to the other members of the Elite instead of always counting on Calypso."

Orion wearily rubbed his forehead, his shoulders slumping as he muttered quietly, "I see your point, but I wasn't doing it on purpose. Titania has been working with her. And it's simply that Calypso is the one I trust the most and she's brilliant. She knows everything and she's always been there for me, through thick and thin."

He shook his head, and then looked up at the vampire with a frown on his face. "That's why you want her to stay here? So that she's not stressed about the war – to pull her away from all that or to protect her from someone she's gotten in trouble with?"

"I want her to be isolated for a while. It's for the best, trust me," said Lezander calmly, skirting around the subject. "But she should still be involved with what's happening, though not directly." He smiled gently. "She would go mad without anything to do and she would be furious if she was left out. So let her continue with the research she was working on, and discuss the war plans with her and ask for her advice and opinion, as always. Just don't let her participate in the attacks." He pinned him with an intense gaze. "Believe me, you don't want her there."

"Fine," mumbled Orion, slowly carding his fingers through his hair. "I trust that you know what's best for her." He anxiously gazed up at him. "I have to know - is she in danger, in some kind of deep trouble?"

Lezander remained silent with a pinched expression on his face, and Orion sighed out, "You can't tell me – not even that. Then I'll assume she is." He frowned pensively, and added, "Well, if she's staying here from now on, she'll need her things. Draco has to go to Potter Manor to have his lesson with Romulus, tell him to bring back everything in Calypso's rooms and to inform her father where she is."

Lezander nodded, then eyed him quizzically. "You're leaving? To see the Elite again-"

"No," said Orion succinctly. "Voldemort."

"Ah."

Orion shot him a glance. "I'll see you and Draco tomorrow. I'll be in time for my training, don't worry."

"That's not what I worry about, dragostea mea," said Lezander quietly.

Orion grimaced, before he grinned nonchalantly and said loftily, "You shouldn't be worrying about anything at all, or I'll start thinking that your father is right in thinking that I bring nothing but trouble to you."

He shot him a wink, and with that, he swiftly closed his eyes and apparated away.

* * *

Orion had a bad feeling about it - that he wouldn't like what was going to happen.

Well, it was evident he wouldn't, since there he was in the depths of Malfoy Manor's dungeons, in a vast, dingy, and humid chamber with moss on its stone walls and hardly any light, only that coming from torches. He was amidst the Death Eaters of the Inner Circle, all jittery with anticipation except Lucius and Severus, who had cold, impassive expressions on their faces, as usual in those types of situations.

And many feet before them, having been rounded up against a wall, were people standing in a line. People who Bellatrix had but mere minutes ago brought from the numerous cells in the dungeon. People who, apparently, had been captured during some Death Eater raid and were now going to be used as guinea pigs. They had blindfolds on their eyes, gags on their mouths, and shackles on wrists and ankles, and by the looks of their worn and disheveled clothes, they had to be muggles.

Orion's stomach gave a sickly churn. He wasn't going to like this at all.

To make it worse, as he had made his way through the dungeons along with the Death Eaters, he had caught sight of Ollivander, looking disheveled and a bit malnourished, dozing tiredly in a cramped cot inside a cell.

He had known that Voldemort had ordered his Death Eaters to capture the wandmaker a while back, and he had seen the man's empty and ominously ransacked store in Diagon Alley. He also knew that Voldemort had interrogated Ollivander about the Elder Wand. It was what had pointed Voldemort in Gregorovitch's direction, and then ended in that wandmaker's death and in Voldemort going to Nurmengard to see Grindelwald just moments after he and his Elite escaped from the prison with the wizard.

Having seen Ollivander, and in such a state - clearly still kept for the time when Voldemort would get his hands on the Elder Wand, as the wizard undoubtedly planned to do - made Orion vouch that he would rescue the wandmaker if he got the chance.

He wasn't worried about Ollivander saying anything about the Wand to Voldemort, since it was clear that the wandmaker didn't know much about it. But he certainly thought that Ollivander would be killed the instant Voldemort obtained the Wand and realized Ollivander was of no use, and it would be a waste.

It would be much better if he managed to send Ollivander to Lycaon, to make wands for the werewolves. They would certainly need more of them and it would be easier for them to have them for free instead of keep going into wizarding communities and buying ones of lesser quality in the black market, and cheated at it since the current laws around Europe didn't allow werewolves to have wands.

And to make matters even worse, Morticia Mortimer was also present and the witch had had the gall to take a place right beside him, with a sharp half-smile curving her lips when she had glanced at him. At least he had the Lestrange brothers on his other side – he had always liked them, and he particularly got along very well with Rodolphus.

After all, following Voldemort's orders the wizard had been his Dark Arts tutor, years ago, during a summer holiday, and he had seen the wizard frequently during the year, when the man had been polyjuiced as Slughorn. Not to mention that he had shagged the younger Lestrange once, not that it had changed things in the way they interacted since Rabastan had never breathed a word about what had happened, surely because he had seen Orion crucioing Voldemort and had wisely decided to keep his mouth shut, even if now the man addressed him as 'Lord Black' with a conspiratorial smirk on his face and a gleam of respect in his eyes.

Orion finally peeled his gaze away from the prisoners and shot a glance at Voldemort. The wizard was in front of them with his back to the muggles, holding the Mayan Stone with one hand under it and the other spread over its large, strange gem.

The man had given a little speech, the usual drivel to his Death Eaters, and was now apparently prepared to show them something which would amaze and astound, and which would undoubtedly make his minions worship the ground he walked on even more. It was to be, in Voldemort's words, a demonstration of his power and how it would be used to subjugate light wizards and mudbloods, and which would show how muggles could be easily disposed of.

"Bella," said Voldemort commandingly. "Proceed."

"Yes, My Lord," gushed Bellatrix sycophantically, quickly stepping forward from the throng of Death Eaters, approaching the muggles.

She raised her wand and swiftly drew a pattern in the air, beams of light instantly shooting out to strike the prisoners' chest. Orion saw large, bright red letters starting to appear on their clothed torsos.

"F for 'filthy muggle', V for 'vile mudblood'," said Bellatrix in a singsong, cackling loudly, "and D for 'disgusting halfblood'."

Orion's face lost all its color, utterly paling. Mudbloods? … Halfbloods?! He glanced at those marked with the D. They were wearing muggles clothes, he hadn't been mistaken in that assessment. Then they must have been living in the muggle town that the Death Eaters raided to capture test subjects. Muggleborns, he should have realized they were going to be taken for this, but he hadn't expected for there to be any halfbloods.

He was alarmed by it, and then he bristled since not so long ago, as far as Bellatrix had known, he had been considered to be a halfblood. Oh, and someday he would truly relish when the Death Eaters found out that their hailed Dark Lord was a halfblood himself. How he would enjoy Bellatrix's expression and reaction then.

He flared with anger when he saw that Voldemort was smiling at Bellatrix, as one indulging an endearing little girl. The nerve of the man, standing there about to do something to his own kind…

Orion's mind paused in mid thought and he shifted uneasily on his feet, frowning worriedly. Voldemort _was_ a halfblood, and Severus as well. Wouldn't they be affected too? Perhaps he was thinking the worse, perhaps he was wrong in his suspicious about how the Mayan Stone was going to be used or how Voldemort could make it work.

"Should I mark my little, bitty, baby nephew with a D as well, My Lord?" said Bellatrix with a high-pitched chuckle, shooting Orion a nasty glance, a sneering smirk on her face. Her gaze then flickered to someone else, turning snide and hateful. "And Snape should have one too, My Lord-"

"Now, now, Bella, behave," said Voldemort, his tone pleasantly chiding. "Leave poor Severus alone. And as you know by now, Orion is not a halfblood."

"I still don't believe it!" spat Bellatrix seething, her breathing becoming heavy as she venomously glared at Orion. "His mother was a filthy mudblood, nothing else. He is no grandson of Grindelwald. He lies! The Daily Prophet lies, false speculations nothing more-"

"We will see today if it's true or not, won't we?" piped in Amycus Carrow, letting out a nasty, wheezing chuckle.

Some sniggered, particularly the wizard's twin sister, Alecto, while others just kept gazing at Voldemort and the prisoners with fervent, giddy anticipation. It was palpable in the air, the Death Eaters' mounting hunger to sadistically enjoy seeing the 'lesser, filthy beings' writhe and scream.

Orion's throat dried and his hands fisted as he gazed at the prisoners marked with the V or D, the muggleborns and halfbloods. Should he stop it before it began? He shot a glance at Voldemort who had his eyes narrowed in concentration, the man's lips murmuring something, chanting, as a glow of light started to emanate from the wizard's hand spread on the Mayan Stone's gem.

No, he couldn't do anything. If he interfered, Voldemort would just continue and make it worse in retribution. And a part of him wanted to see, wanted to know, what the wizard had come up with, what he could do with the Mayan Stone.

The air seemed to thicken and become eerily dense, some of the Death Eaters shifted nervously on their feet, and then the Stone's gem was glowing with a blinding white light, looking as if it was bursting with the magic Voldemort had poured into it.

In the next bat of the eyelash, as Voldemort muttered something under his breath, huge hand-like shapes spilled out from the Stone's gem, with numerous fingers hovering for one second above their heads. Then the tentacle-like foggy grey things shot into everyone present. Many Death Eaters jumped in startlement or let out a faint high-pitch, while one of the large 'fingers' of magic plunged into Orion's chest, as happened to everyone else, Death Eaters and prisoners alike.

Orion clenched his jaw but remained still, feeling as if a large yet thin needle was piercing him. The sensation wasn't painful, per se, but it was very awkward and uncomfortable, it made goosebumps creep on his skin and an eerie shudder crawl down his spine. And he frowned as the finger in his chest plunged deeper into him, still connected to the gem of the Mayan Stone, like all other tentacles. He felt as if the finger was moving inside him, swirling in his veins and tickling in his magical core, as if it was being explored by alien magic.

Abruptly, the finger shot out from him, and he saw that the tentacle-like things were now only spearing the chests of the prisoners marked with the D –the halfbloods- and to his dismay and concern, Severus was also connected to the Stone's gem with one of the fingers still plunged into him.

Orion's eyes widened, and he took a step forward, a cry of alarm on his lips.

"Don't interfere," whispered Rodolphus sharply by his side, clutching Orion's forearm in a vise-like grip and swiftly pulling him back in line with the rest of the Death Eaters. "You cannot help him and he can withstand whatever happens. He always does."

Orion's throat dried, knowing the wizard was right. Yet he still apprehensively glanced at Severus, doing his best to mask his worry. The wizard wasn't looking at anyone at all, he was gazing straight ahead, with an impassive expression on his face, but he could see the man's jaw slightly clenching.

"Crucio," said Voldemort softly, caressingly, with a gleam in his crimson eyes, and immediately, the red beam of light of the curse glowed from the wizard's spread hand hovering on top of the Mayan Stone and sunk into the gem.

Magic seemed to instantly multiply and expand inside the gem, and a second later, bright, red beams shot out and travelled through the fingers of magic connected to Severus and the halfblood prisoners.

The pain caused had to be more agonizing than normal for the curse, since Severus, who was used to such spell and had acquired a certain degree of tolerance to it, was screaming his lungs out on the floor, wildly convulsing, his black eyes rolling up into his head, his limbs cracking against the stone floor, and his mouth frothing. The gagged and shackled halfbloods prisoners were faring even worse, their cries muffled but still echoing loudly in the dungeon vast chamber, the iron cuffs tearing into the skin of their ankles and wrists, breaking bones, as they violently writhed on the floor.

And when he saw that, of course, Voldemort didn't have a finger plunged into him and thus wasn't being affected by the curse, he just knew that the wizard had intentionally done nothing to prevent Snape from being a target. Just for sports and the entertainment of his Death Eaters, since some were sniggering and maliciously gazing at the tortured Potions Master, ridiculing him. Many others were jeering and clapping, their gazes fixed on the halfblood prisoners.

Orion felt utterly disgusted and tainted by the whole scene. Thankfully, it was over in the next second. Voldemort muttered something and the now red fingers vanished into thin air.

But he shouldn't have counted on his luck so soon.

With a wave of his hand, the Dark Lord vanished the gags, shackles and blindfolds on the prisoners marked with a V, and he chanted under his breath again.

The foggy grey, phantom-like huge hands shot from the gem once more, their tentacles now spearing the prisoners the wizard had released from their bounds, the muggleborns.

They only had a second to glance at their surroundings wildly, screaming with terror whilst flailing hands at the fingers of magic piercing their chest, while some of them attempted to make a run for it.

But none succeed in anything, since in the next instant, Voldemort said pleasantly, "Imperio."

Again, the wizard's magic for the curse passed through the gem before it multiplied and shot out through the fingers, injecting the curse into the muggleborns. It soon became clear what Voldemort had thought when wandlessly casting the Imperius Curse into the gem, since all the muggleborns, even those who had frantically ran towards the door of the chamber, now turned against each other.

With eyes glazed over and unfocused, the muggleborns attacked each other like rabid dogs, throwing punches, kicking, biting and tearing flesh. It was a mad display of utter primal, animalistic, and mindless violence, of utter gore, since eyes were gouged out, throats were tore apart, necks were snapped, jaws were cracked wide open and slammed into skull, and limbs were crushed, as they assailed each other wildly and insanely.

The Death Eaters were cheering loudly now, utterly fascinated and thrilled with the spectacle, enjoying every splash of blood and ripping of flesh.

Orion couldn't take it anymore. He could withstand much, but not this – it was just plain sadistic cruelty. Voldemort had already made his point.

"_STOP IT, Tom!"_ he yelled in a hiss, without moving from his place or whipping out his wand, since he didn't want to give the wizard reason to make it worse, but his hands still clenched into fists, shaking in fury.

Voldemort snapped his gaze away from the 'show', his crimson eyes narrowing at Orion. _"You still care about mudbloods? Your mother was not a mudblood, by your own account. What ties and loyalties do you still have to them? None."_

Orion gritted his teeth, fixedly staring at the man, not wanting to see anymore what the muggleborns were doing to each other, ignoring their animalistic grunts and cries of pain. _"It's not about that. You've proved what you can do already. Just stop it. There's no need for-"_

"_There is much need,__ this is a demonstration,"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, his eyes narrowing to slits. Suddenly, his eyes gleamed darkly and his lips deviously curved upwards. _"I will kill the muggles after I play with them. And I was planning on killing the halfbloods and mudbloods as well. But I'll give you a choice. Choose whom to spare - mudbloods or halfbloods."_

Orion stiffened, glancing at the imperioed muggleborns still ravaging each other, some already dead, others so mangled that they could barely stand, just cower on the floor from the brutal kicks and assaults from others, with bodies torn and limbs dangling limply. Then he saw the halfbloods, alive but laying unconscious on the floor, still twitching from the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse. Snape was slowly standing on shaking legs, trembling with the after effects, his lips a contorted rictus of intense pain.

He knew Voldemort wouldn't include the wizard in the killing of halfbloods, since the man still needed his Potion Masters. And even more importantly, the wizard wouldn't kill Snape until he obtained the Elder Wald, since he thought that either Snape or Draco had become the Wand's master after the happenings at Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower.

"_Cancel the imperio first," _hissed Orion curtly, his jaw clenching_, "and I'll give you my choice."_

Voldemort's lips stretched into a smirk, his eyes glinting with vicious relish, apparently enjoying the despair he would cause by making Orion make a decision which would tear him with anguish. With a flick of his wrist, the finger-like tentacles glowing with the tint of the Imperius Curse, that were still sunk into the muggleborns' chests, disappeared into thin air. And the remaining muggleborns dropped to the floor, like puppets whose strings had been abruptly snapped.

Orion felt ill, and he glowered at Voldemort. But the wizard was mistaken if he thought he was going to feel guilty about his choice. The decision was an easy one to make, given the state of the prisoners. His choice was a practical one, to help those less injured, those who would survive after being dropped back into the wizarding world.

"_Spare the halfbloods."_ Orion shot him a poisonous, seething glare. _"Your own kind, Tom, you sick fuck."_

Fury flashed in Voldemort's crimson eyes, a thunderous expression briefly crossing his darkly handsome features, but in the next second the wizard just shot him sneer, and returned his focus back on the Mayan Stone he held.

The Death Eaters looked disappointed that the show had suddenly ended, and some shot Orion scathing glares, conjecturing that it was his fault, but none said a word to him. Orion thought it had to be due to the expression on his face, one that indicated he would blast into nothingness anyone who dared beep a sound to him.

Before anyone could hitch another breath, the enormous gray hands flowed once more out of the Mayan Stone's gem, as Voldemort muttered again under his breath, and Orion resignedly prepared himself for the next, and hopefully last, stage in the demonstration. The finger-like tendrils of the hands instantly plunged into the remaining prisoners left standing, gagged, shackled and blindfolded – those marked with the F, the muggles.

Orion didn't know which curse Voldemort then funneled into the gem. From what his keen hearing picked up when the wizard murmured it, he had never heard it before. But he soon witnessed what the curse did when violet magic flashed through the phantasmagorical fingers sprouting from the gem and into the muggles.

It was the most gruesome, grotesque, spine-chilling and gut-coiling thing he had ever seen. His stomach churned and plummeted, vile rose to his throat, and Orion had to make an excruciating effort to remain stiffly in place and with an impassive mask on his face, for he knew that if he interfered once more, Voldemort would surely go back on his deal about sparing the halfbloods.

If what had happened to the muggleborns had been a sadistic spectacle of gore, what happened to the muggles was even more and worse. The gags on the muggles' mouths couldn't muffle their endless screams, their shackles couldn't restrain the way they contorted in pure agony, as flesh and bones morphed. For that was exactly what was happening, spines crawled out from bodies, bones crept from arms and legs, and ribs from torsos, spiking out and fusing with those of the next muggle by their side. Flesh rippled, tore and ripped apart, merging with other's, guts spilled, organs twisted, rolled and fused, until the muggles were nothing but an amorphus enormous mass of twisting bones, glistening fat, pulsing flesh and bits of clothes, covering the whole expanse of the stone wall they had once stood against, a large pool of blood and other clumps of matter on the floor.

And the Death Eaters watched, with wide eyes, fascinated, fervently breathless. And Voldemort smirked, a dark feverish gleam in his crimson eyes, the wizard's hand spread on the gem twitching and still glowing with the magic pouring into it. And the Mayan Stone seemed to thrum and vibrate with contained, dark power, infusing the room with eerie, swirling, heavy magic, with an ominous feeling to it – vengeful, threatening, primeval, wild, it seemed to Orion, and it made him blanch and it made a chill run down his spine.

Orion looked away, feeling ill, revolted, disgusted, horrified, his stomach churning, something heavy on his chest, and he felt Rodolphus gripping his shoulder. He shot the wizard a glance, and saw that the man was looking straight ahead at the scene, impassively and calmly, just a smirk on his lips.

With a jerk of his head, Orion shrugged off the wizard's hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to be cautioned, restrained or in any way soothed by a gesture.

Finally, Voldemort said the two words Orion held his breath for. "Avada Kedavra."

The tentacles piercing the mass of blobs flashed green, and the thing splat on the floor with a squelching sound. In the next bat of the eyelash, the wizard said the words again when the fingers had sunk into the few muggleborns who had survived the brutal fight amongst themselves.

The next thing he saw, after a placid order given by Voldemort, was Bellatrix going around the only prisoners left alive, kicking the unconscious halfbloods as she casted obliviating spells at them, while Alecto Carrow vanished dismissively the enormous mass which had once been muggles. The rest of the Death Eaters broke into loud applause as they eagerly talked to each other, discussing the 'wonders' of what they had seen, giddily, fascinated and with a sense of victory - for what couldn't they do with such a weapon?

"You ain't a halfblood after all, eh?" said Amycus Carrow, out of the blue by Orion's side, grinning as he patted Orion on the shoulder. "Good to know." The short, plump wizard with a barrel for a stomach, peered at him intensely, his forehead scrunching. "So you are Grindelwald's grandson." He twistedly smiled at him, showing yellow, rotten teeth, sign of his long years in Azkaban. "Then I've decided to address you as 'Lord Black', like the others do. You merit it, now."

Orion shot him a disdainful, dismissive glance, and jerked away from the wizard's pats, moving towards Voldemort.

His mind was spinning, his breath was stuck in his dried and lumpy throat. But he focused on what was important, pushing to the deepest recesses of his mind all the gore he had witnessed, wishing he would simply just forget. And he deeply mused about the spell he had seen, raking his brain, thinking hard and fast, to understand all the implications.

When he reached Voldemort, he saw that Morticia Mortimer was with him, both gazing at the Mayan Stone in Voldemort's hands, murmuring among themselves.

Orion's jaw clenched, and then he loudly cleared his throat. They both shot him a glance, and Voldemort waved a hand in the next instant, suspending the Mayan Stone in mid air, encased in a bubble of shimmering magic. Being now so close to it, Orion felt it – something pulling him towards it, a rushing in his ears, a soft murmur which enticed with promised power and greatness, and he shivered as his gaze was inexorably fixedly drawn to it.

"Compelling, is it not?" whispered Morticia in a low, deep voice, knowingly gazing at him. "It has been the downfall of civilizations before – wiping them out. And it can mean the rising of a new world order, if it's mastered."

Orion peeled his gaze away from the Stone, and his eyes flickered from her to Voldemort and back, as he said stiffly, "Is that what you have been doing? Giving information to the Dark Lord about how it can be mastered? Information the American Unspeakables didn't have and which you learned at Teotihuacan?" He scrutinized her closely, and added in a mutter, "The ancient city of Teotihuacan, the name sake of your alma mater, was the center of the Mayan civilization and it was even later used by the Aztecs. You did learn about the Stone there, didn't you?"

Morticia's lips curved into a sharp half-smile, tilting down her head in a brief, subtle nod. Suddenly, she grabbed his forearm, pulling him closer to the Stone and she released him before he could brusquely yank away from her clutch.

She shot him a glance and sunk her hands through the veil of magic surrounding the Mayan Stone, trailing long fingernails across the carved figures and symbols at its base of white stone, as she murmured low in her breath with a feral, hungry glint in her kohl-lined eyes, "It contains the power of Them in its very core. Historians think they were just mythical Mayan Gods, imaginary, but they were not. They were magical beings, captured by the Mayan priests with great effort, costing many lives, and they were sacrificed to imbue the gem with their power. They were all ancient, unimaginably powerful magical creatures, the likes of which have not existed since time immemorial."

Morticia caressingly trailed a fingertip over one of the figures carved on the base of the Stone. "Chac, the 'God of Fertility, Rain and Lightning', he could control weather and nature, his appearance was reptile-like and he was the only one left of his species. Kinich-Ahau, the 'Sun God', he was an elemental creature, he could create and manipulate light and fire. It is believed that it was he who created the first Phoenix, for a companion and pet. Ixchel, the 'Moon Goddess', she was Kinich-Ahua's mate, an elemental magical being like him, yet her powers resided in the manipulation of water, controlling all its forms and thus the tides, like the moon itself. And while her mate had a Phoenix, she had a snake for a familiar." She gestured at a figure on the Stone. "This is why she is depicted as having serpents for hair."

The witch shot Orion an intense glance, as she pointed at another figure. "And finally, Ah-Puch, the 'God of Death', the 'Ruler of the Ninth Level of the Underworld'. The most extraordinary of them all. He was the most powerful of his kind, a kind that was also in the ways of extinction since they didn't have enough females. It was this magical creature who decided to mate with a female human, Lord Black. She was a Mayan girl, a 'dark witch' since all Mayas had dark magic, though they didn't use those terms back then."

Morticia paused and fixedly stared at him, as she murmured in a low, deep voice, "It is due to Ah-Puch that Necromancers exist, Lord Black. He passed on his magical traits to the child the Mayan girl bore – a boy half-human, half-creature, who the priests made reproduce with more girls to not lose Ah-Puch's powers after they killed the creature to imbue the Mayan Stone with his magic. That's how the Necromantic trait was injected in dark magical lines. And how, ages before the European conquerors 'discovered' the Americas, it also surfaced in European dark wizarding lines, because Ah-Puch's son escaped his controlled life and gilded cage."

Her eyes sparkled with fervor, as she added passionately, "What a fascinating halfbreed he must have been, Lord Black! He had wings, like his father, and he flew until he reached the first land across the Great Ocean." She sharply smiled at him. "Can you guess where Ah-Puch's son found his haven, away from the clutches of the Mayan priests? It was Britain, Lord Black, back then an island without a name, with some tribes scattered here and there, some muggle, some magical – who would much later be called 'Druids'. And Ah-Puch's son settled with them, Lord Black. He was welcomed, he found freedom and he found love with a witch, and thus Ah-Puch's great magical trait was spread over continents. And Necromancers were born."

She heavily paused, and speared him with her gaze as she said vehemently, "I want Ah-Puch's power in my heir. I've always had, since I was an eleven-year-old girl and I was first told the stories by my school teachers. Do you understand now, why it's so important to me? Why I must marry your father, since he sired you, the only Necromancer who has ever defeated Death. The only one who has proved that Necromancy is not diluted and weak in him." She briskly waved a hand. "The others are nothing compared to you! I know about the Guild – only unemotional, stagnated beings who have lost their humanity, who could have never rescued a person from a Necromancer's Gate or rescued a Kissed soul from the entrails of a Dementor, as you did both. Do you understand why the contract must be fulfilled, why I won't rest until it is?"

"Yes, I understand," muttered Orion, his mind spinning with everything he had learned, feeling almost breathless, his heart loudly pumping fast, as he eyed the witch under a whole new set of lenses. He sighed, and then squared his shoulder as he said quietly, "But it changes little. I know my father would not find happiness with you and that is all _I_ care about." He shot her a stern glance. "But I'm willing to yield to some degree. If you want him, then make him want you back and give him what he needs to be happy." His lips twisted into a grimace. "I'm sure a witch like you can manage that, if you so desire."

Morticia widely smiled at him, and for the first time, it was true and honest. "I believe we understand each other now, Lord Black, at last. I think you know what it is to want and do anything for it and to have it." She solemnly nodded at him. "I agree to your terms and I vouch to do everything in my power to keep my end of the bargain."

Orion mutely nodded at her, still apprehensive, still worried, but he would simply wait and see. His plans concerning what to do with her hadn't changed if worse came to worst.

Morticia pierced Orion with her cat-shaped, kohl-lined black eyes, as she gestured at the Mayan Stone. "These beings lived, they were real not myths, as many other legendary creatures who once upon a time roamed this earth. And their power is in this Stone, awaiting to be unleashed once more. But so is their ire, for as I told you, they were captured and killed in sacrifice by the Mayan priests. It was this ire which caused the destruction of the Mayan civilization when the High Priest, in his arrogance and greed for power, used the Stone for the first time. That is the danger of the Mayan Stone."

The witch paused to sharply smile at him. "And it is why it has to be mastered, to overrule the ire and use the power within, for the benefit of our kind, Lord Black. This is what the Dark Lord has showed us today, in a small measure. And it is what he is prepared to do." She tilted her head to a side, staring fixedly at him. "Are you?"

Orion stared back at her, and he thickly swallowed, not really knowing what to reply. The Illuminati and their mad schemes were at the forefront of his mind. But was he willing to use such a dangerous tool? Something that could so easily fire back at them?

She had said it herself, it had wiped out a civilization before – the Mayas, the very creators of the artifact, even if their priests had apparently deserved what happened. But still, the so-called 'ire' infused in the power of the Mayan Stone had killed everyone, priests and non-priests alike. Who was to say that it wouldn't happen again? Who was to say that Voldemort could control such thing?

Though, when it came to dark emotions like ire, the wizard was certainly someone who would relate and understand. Could that kind of empathy be used to control the artifact? Because he knew that it had to be controlled, because now he knew that what Voldemort had demonstrated was only just a fraction of what could be done with the Mayan Stone.

Orion eyed the artifact warily, and then his gaze met the wizard's in question himself.

Voldemort slowly caressed the large, strange, hexagonal gem of the Mayan Stone, as he bore his crimson eyes into Orion's emerald ones, his lips tilting upwards. _"There is nothing to fear. I do control it. And I wish you would learn to do so as well. It is magnificent, Orion. The power, the feeling… Do you remember, my little serpent? What it felt like when we used it jointly, that first time?"_

Orion shot him a baleful glower, but it lacked the necessary ill-will to make it meaningful. He remembered indeed. It had been after their marital bonding ceremony. Voldemort had apparated them to the Lestrange's winter castle in the Swiss Alps and all he could say was that it had felt like eternal hours spent in pure bliss and consuming passion.

Orion felt his face getting hot at Voldemort's knowing smirk and at the intense, heated gleam in his crimson eyes. The manipulating little bastard.

_"I cannot fiddle but I can make a great state from a little city,"_ hissed Voldemort, his smirk widening.

Orion flushed beet red. He had said that to Voldemort, quoting Themistocles, the ancient Athenian politician and general who had been a wizard unbeknownst to muggles. They had been indolently and placidly swinging on the hammock, bodies entangled, by the large pond under a dome of glass panels, with snow all around yet shielded from the cold winter by the warming charms in the place. Their one-day honeymoon, or just 'respite' since Voldemort never admitted that he had partaken in something so muggle, maudlin and sentimental as a 'honeymoon', had been utterly perfect in every sense of the word.

They had made love, and they had shagged, and they had made love again, and then Voldemort had made him use the Mayan Stone and then the two of them had shagged again with refueled fervor, need and devouring passion and hunger for each other, affected so wonderfully by the power trip caused by the Stone.

With burning cheeks, Orion glanced away from the wizard, clearing his throat and shifting awkwardly on his feet. In the next second, he forced his reluctant and devilishly rebellious mind out of naughty thoughts and plunged it back on track to the matter-at-hand.

"_So you want me to learn how to use and control it, because if used jointly by both of us, it would be much more powerful?"_ hissed Orion, his voice a bit hoarse and husky, and he scowled at himself.

"_Precisely,"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, his eyes gleaming darkly. _"We would be unstoppable."_

Orion frowned deeply. He didn't think he wanted to learn how to use the bloody thing. It was calling to him, still, the pull strong, his own dark magical core reacting to it, animatedly, hungrily, coveting it. And that was something he simply didn't like. It would be addictive to the point of mad obsession. He had had a taste of that, the first and only time he had used it with Voldemort.

A wizard should know his limits, and he knew his. It was not the first time he encountered something with emotions imbued in its magic. He still remembered how greatly Cadmus Peverell's journal had affected him, how he had been sucked into it, feeling everything the Necromancer had when writing it. Feeling the pain, the hunger, the wanting, the crazed obsession. He was susceptible to those kinds of things. As Grindelwald had once said, he was too empathetic.

So what would happen if he got sucked into the Mayan Stone and the ire contained there tied to its magic? If the artifact got a hold on him, and controlled him instead of him controlling it, then he paled imagining what would happen. Someone as powerful as Voldemort falling into the artifact's control was terrible, but someone as powerful as him was catastrophic. It could be Armageddon.

No, he certainly didn't need temptations and more troubles.

Orion shook his head and opted to skirt around the subject and get some of his initial questions answered. He glanced up at Voldemort, and hissed curiously, _"What's the radius of its power? How far can a spell reach through it?"_

"_An entire city, if I want__,_" hissed Voldemort, smirking at him to then pointedly pierce him with his crimson eyes. _"An entire large country, if you use the Mayan Stone with me, jointly, together."_

Orion nodded with a wary frown, and then gazed up, scrutinizing him. _"The fingers thing spell, it can differentiate between types of wizards, between types of magic and degrees of blood purity, can it?"_

"_Yes,"_ hissed Voldemort placidly, looking very pleased with himself.

Orion grimaced before he eyed him closely. _"It overlooked you when looking for halfbloods, why?"_

"_I can exclude anyone I __want from being noticed by the spell."_

"_With a t__hought?"_ hissed Orion breathlessly, his mind spinning as he stared at him with wide eyes.

"_Precisely__,"_ hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes gleaming while a self-satisfied smirk curled his lips.

Orion gawked at him with fascination and sheer admiration. Voldemort had reason to be smug, indeed. It must have been an impossibly complex spell to create. Spells controlled by the caster's mind were no easy matter, they were the hardest to create. And this one went beyond that, since it clearly assessed blood and magical core. It was mindboggling that the wizard had managed to create such spell in such a short period of time, even if he had always known that Voldemort was astoundingly brilliant and a genius when it came to the manipulation of magic.

By Merlin, Voldemort was not a wizard he could lose, not to another or death. Such mind was priceless, unique, not ever would there be one like it or as bright. If the wizard would just simply apply it to worthier endeavors…

"_The Mayan Stone is the tool we were looking for, my little serpent,"_ hissed Voldemort in a silky, caressing tone, intensely gazing into Orion's eyes, his lips curving upwards. _"It is a tool to counter the muggles' most lethal ones. And to kill them easily, in one swipe, before they can kill us-"_

"_Yes, it's a tool,"_ interrupted Orion curtly. _"I'm not stupid, I can see the advantages of having it in our power. But it's not to be used against light wizards, halfbloods or muggleborns." _He pinned the wizard with a firm, stern gaze. _"We won't use it to do anything to wizarding kind. And it's to be used against muggles if we see that a war with them is eminent at some point in the future. If we see that the Illuminati are about to disclose our world to them. Those are my terms to accept the Stone as a tool to be used. To accept learning how to control it when, and if, the time comes to defend wizarding kind. If you want me to use it with you in that eventuality, then you must decide now if you accept my conditions. Take it or leave it."_

Voldemort pierced him with narrowed crimson eyes, remaining silent. The silence seemed to spread and stretch indefinitely, when finally the wizard hissed coolly, _"Very well. I accept." _His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes darkly gleaming. _"It will be wizarding kind's Weapon."_

Orion shot a glance at the Mayan Stone and gazed back at the wizard, nodding solemnly. _"It will."_

Voldemort's smirk widened triumphantly, and Orion's eyes widened and he felt his body responding and growing hot when he saw the glint in the wizard's crimson eyes - sudden hunger, desire and sheer want in them, meshed with a feverish gleam which Orion recognized as a sign that the wizard was still in a power trip from having used the Mayan Stone. Oh, he knew what was coming and he couldn't lie to himself and say that he didn't want it just as much as the wizard did.

And before he could blink, arms tightly wrapped around him and he was plunged into an apparition, Morticia Mortimer left behind without a second thought.


	39. New visions, the proposal & the Fair

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

It's implied that the halfblood prisoners were light wizards. The Death Eathers –all being purebloods except only Snape- thus enjoyed watching their torture, since they consider halfbloods to be below them and they see light wizards as enemies in the current war. Otherwise, they wouldn't have gone to such lengths. They despise those of lesser purity of blood, but halfbloods are tolerated –just like in canon. Obviously, muggleborns aren't, and they are despised even more.

As covered throughout the fics, the dark purebloods' prejudices against 'mudbloods' are founded in the knowledge that muggleborns weaken the magic in the lines if they marry into wizarding families, and in the breach of security the muggleborns represent because their muggle families are told about the magical world when the muggleborn children receive their Hogwarts letters and Ministry Muggle-Liasion officials go to their homes to explain matters.

Muggleborns are also despised by dark purebloods because they bring muggle culture into the wizarding world, which clashes with pureblood tradition, ideals and etc, and threatens to taint such things, in their view. And because the acceptance of muggleborns into the wizarding world also represent many troubles and nuisances for the purebloods, since the law against underage use of magic, among other things, was established (in my fic) due to muggleborns, so that muggleborn children wouldn't go around using magic during their holidays around their families and other muggles. For purebloods, it means that their own underage children cannot further develop their magic through practice when they are out of school, and it galls them.

These things are mentioned a lot through the fics so I won't go into them further, they are covered in Orion's discussions with Calypso, Snape, Sirius, Remus and Voldemort, mainly.

Besides discussions, the blood purity issue was also covered in Slytherin's journals and Albus' Treatise which Dumbledore had been working on when he was young and met Grindelwald. Particularly in the Treatise, we saw how Albus classified human kind, discerning that wizarding kind was a human species in their own right apart from muggles, and that dark and light wizards can be considered as different 'subspecies' in that species.

Muggleborns –the real ones, those who truly don't have a single wizarding ancestor- were classified by Albus as being a subspecies within the muggles, the result of mutation and the sudden appearance of the magical trait in their blood. As you must remember, wizards talk about 'blood' in these matters since they don't know about genes, and given that genetics has been recently discovered in the muggle world, since I'm following canon timeline and it's 1997 at present. So speaking about blood is speaking about genetics, in essence.

To make it short, halfbloods were included in the demonstration not because Voldemort makes his Death Eaters go around killing them – he doesn't- but because he was making a point: that he had created a spell that allowed him to select halfbloods, muggleborns and/or muggles within any radius he wished, as he could as well select light wizards from any crowd. And that through that spell, and with the Mayan Stone, he is able to cast any curse or spell and have it instantly multiply and strike at those selected. Meaning that whenever he casts one single Avada Kedavra, it shoots out not one curse but countless, striking those the previous 'fingers' spell had selected. None of this can be done with a wand, hence the uniqueness and 'magnificence' of the Mayan Stone.

Thus, as Voldemort implied, he can stand at the top of London Tower and use the Mayan Stone to select every single muggle in London and kill them instantly with the Avada Kedavra curse.

Why isn't he doing it already given his hatred for muggles? Because he knows that he needs Orion, and the alliance with werewolves and vampires through Orion, to win the wars in Europe. That's why he was willing to strike a bargain with Orion regarding the use of the Mayan Stone.

The Voldemort in this fic, even though he hates muggles given his ideals and childhood (orphanage and the whole issue with his muggle father) is still a bit crazed but he's much more mentally stable than the Voldemort in canon.

You have to remember that Voldemort is the result of Tom Riddle physically coming to life out of the diary by using Ginny's life and sacrificing it, and by then joining Voldemort's soul that was roaming about. And years later, Voldemort merged with the piece of soul in the locket. So he has two pieces of soul in him –he made a horcrux with the diary piece of soul afterwards, using the Slytherin wedding ring he gave to Orion and which Orion later returned to him when Voldemort broke their marital bond.

So at present, Voldemort has the piece of soul of locket Tom joined with his master soul, and thus is much more sane than in canon. And he has also been affected by his long acquaintanceship with Orion, through Orion's close friendship with locket Tom –Voldemort has those memories since he has that piece of soul in him- and since Orion met Voldemort ages ago and they have been in some type of relationship or other –at the beginning not intimate at all- since then.

**Note: **All discussions and mentions between characters about religions, prophets, and etc, are to be taken in the context of the fic. Meaning, it's just fiction. I mean no disrespect to any religion, belief or historical figure. And my own beliefs and opinions are not those of the characters. So no flames, please. If the idea of such fictional twists bothers you, then skip the scenes. This applies for all future chapters.

**Warning:** Slash scene content.

Action coming up in the next chapter, at long last! *winks* The last very brief scene is there on purpose, the gap in between will be filled in the next chapter. Also, what Orion says to Calypso in this chapter has a point, besides the obvious one. And we'll learn Calypso's secret in two or three chapters, at the most, I think.

* * *

**Chapter 39****  
**

Orion woke up gasping for breath, disoriented and with fear coiling in his stomach. For a moment, he simply sat up bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, his body curling up into a small ball as he heavily panted, trying to make some sense of what he had dreamt about.

Meanwhile, he slowly started remembering where he was and what had happened. His body was still aching from the thorough use that Voldemort had made of him. And he quickly glanced around, ascertaining that he was still in the wizard's bedroom in Malfoy Manor, entangled in sheets on the man's bed. He took a deep breath, calming himself down, and shot the wizard beside him a hard glance.

Voldemort was asleep, with a satisfied and placidly relaxed expression on his face, the bed covers over his nude form up to the wizard's waist.

Orion had half a mind to crucio him right then and there. He should have know that Voldemort would be brutal, being in a power trip from the Mayan Stone or not. He should have realized that the wizard would use the opportunity to punish him for completing the bond with Lezander.

Orion had been ravaged. Voldemort had used him for his own pleasure disregarding Orion's own pleasure and pain. And it had been so savage, forceful and fast that Orion hadn't been able to do anything to halt it. He might have a measure of vampiric strength in him, but Voldemort certainly had his own, due to the blood-rituals the man had undoubtedly undergone at some point to strengthen his own body.

Furthermore, it had been his decision not to stop the man with the use of his dark magic. Orion had known that if he had done that, the both of them would have ended up fighting, dueling and shouting at each other. And that was something he simply could do without.

What happened made him angry, but not as furious as he would have once been in the past. He could take it and easily cope, since he had known it would happen at some point and since his body hardly felt the consequences. His rear and muscles ached a bit, but all bruises, fingernail marks and pain had vanished long ago due to his vampiric healing ability.

However, if it wasn't for the new visions in his dreams, he would have woken up from his exhausted sleep to make Voldemort pay for his actions - that was certain. But he honestly couldn't bring himself to care much about it now. He could only think about the two new visions.

Orion had expected to have new ones, since his visions about the Kraljica Mati and Lezander had been fulfilled. But he hadn't expected that they would be so strange, foggy and frightening.

He nibbled on his lower lip as he relaxed his grip on his knees, and jerkily carded his fingers through his messy hair while he reviewed in his mind what he had seen, over and over again.

The first new vision had felt as if he was seeing it through layers of foggy incoherence. It had been like flashes of unclear images, perceptions and feelings. There had been pain, a lot, and fear, apprehension, fury, but also gnawing impotence. He had seen himself tied by something, bounded, stretched on some horizontal surface or other, but with things spearing through him, along with something piercing his arms.

He didn't understand. The whole thing had been brief and very unclear. He had seen the red of blood and the pristine whiteness of his surroundings, and the distorted images of faces, of people being there, looking at him, doing something to him.

The second vision was even stranger and more bizarre. It was like seeing something from a great, unfathomable distance. His surroundings had been very unfamiliar and strange and there had been a creature there with him, eating him - devouring him, creepily enough.

There had been pain, even agony, but he hadn't felt fury or fear, but firm determination. But the vision didn't show him clearly what was happening to him or what the creature was or looked like. There had been simply smoke, shadows and fire, and blood and ripping of flesh and jaws. And it made him pale and a shudder run down his spine.

He had dreamt the two new visions amidst all the others which hadn't happened yet, with the voice, which he now knew was Gaia's, softly and enticingly calling to him, urging him, as always. But he didn't know what the two new visions meant – if the Dark Source was cautioning him through them or if he was being shown what the Source wanted to happen and thus he shouldn't do anything to prevent it.

Orion was getting quite fed up with the whole visions thing. How he envied Arian's post-cognitive ability! He would trade with him without a second thought. The past was fixed, clear, like an open book. Arian could go through it and learn all he liked from it. He, on the other hand, was stuck with strange visions sent to him by Gaia. With brief visions about the future, which was ever-changing and thus quite impossible to piece together and make out something useful of it.

And he still didn't know if the visions served as a way for him to change them and prevent them from happening or if they were sent to him so that the knowledge of them alone would make him act in a manner that would result in them becoming true – as they had so far.

Orion grunted moodily, a scowl on his face. The visions of futures was a messy affair, no doubt about it. And how on earth was he going to end up in the sticky situations the two new visions had showed him? Oh, he had his suspicions, inklings and theories about what they meant, but what on earth was going to happen to possibly result in that?

Abruptly, a startled yelp escaped from his lips when he was suddenly grabbed and pulled against a warm, hard body.

Voldemort was gazing at him with half-lidded crimson eyes, a smirk tugging his lips and his intentions clearly written on his darkly handsome face, as he started roving his hands over Orion's body with soft, possessive caresses.

"You're not shagging me again, you asshole!" snapped Orion angrily, glowering at him as he brusquely jerked free and scooted away from the wizard, his legs halfway to dangling out of bed. "I'm leaving, and see if I let you touch me again after-"

"_Hush, my little serpent,"_ hissed Voldemort silkily, instantly shooting out an arm and wrapping it around Orion's waist, pulling him back against his chest. _"I will give you pleasure this time."_

Orion snapped his head around to darkly glare at the wizard, since he was being trapped by Voldemort's arms caging him against the wizard's front, as the man molded and draped himself against Orion's back.

"_How very magnanimous of you,"_ he hissed acidly, narrowing his eyes at Voldemort, regarding him closely. Then he scathingly scoffed and added sharply, _"Fine, make it up to me, then."_

"_You can never say 'no' to me, can you?"_ hissed Voldemort, his smirk widening smugly as he tightened his arm around Orion's waist and wrapped the other across Orion's chest, pressing them closer together while he trailed biting kisses along the back of Orion's neck and shoulder. _"Oh, you bicker and complain much, but your body never refuses, does it? So responsive always, so ready and eager to take me in and sheath me completely, no matter the way I take you."_

"_Stuff it and zip it, Tom," _bit out Orion caustically over his shoulder, feeling his cheeks burning and his body responding to the man's hissed words, to his dismay._ "Just get on with it and make it good, or I'll leave and you'll find yourself in a very dry spell for a very long time."_

"_Empty threats, as we both know," _hissed Voldemort silkily, with a smirk of overbearing arrogance and self-confidence, which highly miffed and irked Orion. _"You couldn't go through a week without begging me to take you."_

Orion was about to give him a piece of his mind, but his snarled words choked in his throat and meshed into a groan when the wizard swiftly plunged into him from behind, without any further ado.

Their bodies soon seemed to merge together with the ease of long familiarity, as Orion's muscles clung then relaxed around the unyielding hardness, a gentle rippling that elicited a low hiss of pleasure from Voldemort's throat.

He tightly grabbed the bed poster over his head, using it as a point of counterforce to buck backwards into Voldemort's slow, deep thrusts, trying to make the man go faster. But he was halted in his attempts when Voldemort tightly grasped his hips, slowing the cadence of their rhythm, and Orion had to swallow a groan of exasperation.

A hiss that sounded very much like an amused chuckle reached his ears, before he heard Voldemort say silkily against his neck, _"Slow down, my little serpent, we have the rest of the night." _His tone turned mocking, as he added, _"And you're in no condition to exert yourself after the previous rough use that I made of you, so follow my lead in this, as in everything else."_

Orion didn't dignify the quip with a nasty retort, and quite frankly, the last thing he wanted to do was talk. So he simply adjusted his undulations to Voldemort's slow motions. And then he inwardly smirked when the wizard soon wasn't able to keep controlling himself. He had Voldemort thrusting into him and speeding, in no time.

He eagerly matched the rhythm of the wizard's plunges and of the hand stroking his arousal, shifting his hips back and forth into both sources of spiraling pleasure, feeling Voldemort plunging deep inside him, sliding out as Orion moved his hips forward into the wizard's hand, only to slide in as Orion bucked backwards.

And as Voldemort hissed with pleasure and attacked his shoulders and neck, Orion panted with flushed cheeks and heated, glittering emerald eyes, as he savored the dual stimulations, intoxicating and maddening when he felt both of their dark magic seemingly explode around them and envelop them in a cocoon of enticing power, warmth and crests of rolling pleasure.

It left him breathless, as he also felt the familiar pull between them, the piece of soul rising within him as if attempting to touch Voldemort's master one. And Orion felt he wanted more, that he needed more or would go mad.

With his arms outstretched he kept clinging to the bed post for support, as Voldemort's thrusts into him from behind became more demanding, frenzied and ravaging, the wizard's short nails sinking into Orion's hips, pulling him backwards as the wizard slammed forward.

Soon, their cries and hisses of pleasure filled the room along with their ragged breath, and Orion's eyes glazed over and he deeply moaned when Voldemort lifted one of his legs to open him further and began to ram into him in earnest, picking up the speed and voracity of the plunges.

The escalation of erotic sensations made Orion chokingly gasp with thick passion, as tension built in his arousal, so deliciously fisted by Voldemort in time with the man's thrusts, as the wizard's arms tightened around him, pressing him closer against the man's chest.

Finally, when he felt Voldemort exploding inside him, Orion was pushed to his peak by the myriad of sensations blazing through him, like cascades of pleasure which seemed to flood his entire being with scorching heat. And he moaned loudly and his body trembled under the onslaught, spilling himself in the wizard's pumping hand.

Orion was released from Voldemort's arms when he felt a cleaning charm tingling over him, and as his breathing calmed down, he rolled over to glance at the wizard, seeing the man stretching languidly like a self-satisfied cat under the sun.

It was then when he finally noticed what Voldemort's chest was lacking and he had to clear his throat repeatedly before he asked with a still hoarse voice, "You aren't wearing the Black necklace."

"_I'm not,"_ hissed Voldemort impassively, merely briefly glancing at him through half-lidded crimson eyes.

Orion frowned but didn't press the matter. He simply snuggled against the wizard when Voldemort held up an arm for him to duck under, and he was soon yawning with satiated exhaustion and sleepiness, falling into a deep slumber as the wizard's arm wrapped around his waist, pulling them together.

His last thought was that there was no doubt now that Voldemort was preparing himself for any eventuality. Why else stop wearing the Black heirloom horcrux he had made for the wizard if not to hide it away in some place unknown to him?

Nevertheless, he didn't care about that evident lack of trust in him. He knew Voldemort would never change his ways. And admittedly, given what the Aux Atrum wanted him to do, the wizard was being smart.

* * *

"Don't plan to kill her, pup. I don't like hearing you speaking about murdering people so nonchalantly. Being a killer was not part of the life I had hoped for you, you know?"

Sirius had popped into Potter Manor and waltzed into the main parlor in which Orion had been awaiting, grinning and with amusement gleaming in his bluish grey eyes, saying loftily, "I'm about to have my first wife, I've been told. Witches around the world are going to cry rivers when the news reaches them that Sirius Black is not on the market anymore! The Witch Weekly is going to have a field day, that's for sure." The wizard had shot him a wink. "I'm their Heartthrob of the Year, after all."

Evidently, Walburga's portrait had informed the wizard about the contract, but Orion had frowned at his father, since he had expected Sirius to come in fuming, angry, and cursing his mother under his breath to the deepest pits of hell.

Even after he had told the wizard everything about the matter and about Morticia Mortimer, Sirius was still looking entertained and amused by the whole thing.

Now they were partaking of the bountiful and mouth-watering breakfast that Daisy had brought in for them, after Titania had briefly peeked into the parlor to inform Orion that the Elite were going to Rosier Manor to conduct the DA practice session and battle simulations of the day, as had become usual for them.

The Dark Army members were all still staying at Calypso's vast manor for the entirety of their summer holidays, and Orion had decided that now that Calypso wouldn't be directly involving herself, he would need to start popping by Rosier Manor to supervise and lead some of the DA sessions. It was of the utmost importance since even though only the Elite was going to participate in the attacks of August the first, the DA had to be prepared for the final battle that Orion knew would take place some short time after the attacks.

He had quickly informed Titania about that decision and the young witch had nodded at him, looking satisfied, and then glancing at Orion, Sirius and back, with a curious and quizzical expression on her face. But she had promptly left them to their own, and seconds later Orion had heard some of the soft 'crack' sounds indicating the disapparation of the Elite.

Thus, at present, they were alone in Potter Manor, with copious dishes of pastries, pudding, French toasts, eggs and sausages, muffins and assorted scones covering the whole expanse of the low table before them, along with a steaming teapot and several pitchers of different juices.

"I do know, you've told me often enough," said Orion with an aggravated scowl on his face, resting back on his couch. "But that's beside the point. You're not taking this marriage contract issue seriously, Dad. Morticia Mortimer is-"

"You've told me already," interrupted Sirius, pausing as he finished munching down a scone. He then waved a hand dismissively. "She's dangerous, ruthless, devious and all that jazz. A Voldemort in skirts." He shot him an amused, lopsided grin. "And she wants to have little baby Necromancers with me."

Orion briskly grabbed his glass of pumpkin juice from the low table between them, while he pierced his father with a stern gaze. "I must know if you're truly fine with going forth and fulfilling the contract or if you're just being your usual self by goofing around and acting as if it doesn't matter to you."

Sirius' eyebrows shot upwards, holding up his hands as if in self-defense. "Whoa, son. Someone is in a tetchy mood today, I see." He peered at Orion closely. "What happened, things not going well with that vampire of yours? Come, you can tell your old man."

"I'm in a perfectly jolly good mood," interjected Orion flatly, pausing to briskly take a brief sip from his glass. "All is peachy and sparkly in my life. This is not about me, but about you. We're discussing a very serious matter that will change your life permanently. And I simply wish for you to tell me if you're truly fine with marrying Mortimer." He shot him a frown. "Because I can't understand how you can be so blasé about the perspective of marrying someone like her, after everything I've told you about the damned witch."

"It's no use to cry over spilt potion," said Sirius nonchalantly as he eyed the dish of French toasts and swiftly grabbed his chosen one to chomp on it. "There's nothing we can do to destroy the contract…" He finished munching down the toast and shot him a pointed and stern glance. "And I don't want you to do anything foolish that will bring you serious repercussions and troubles, just to get me out of a marriage. Besides, Morticia seemed to me to be very agreeable and honest-"

"Honest? Morticia Mortimer doesn't have an honest bone in her body!" snapped Orion heatedly, before he paused as his father's words fully sank into his mind. He stared at the wizard with wide, appalled eyes, as he said slowly, "What do you mean that she seemed to be agreeable? You've never met her-"

"Of course I have," interrupted Sirius, frowning at him. "I met her last night."

"What?!" Pumpkin juice spewed out from Orion's mouth when he was taking a sip from his glass, his expression becoming horrified. With a brisk flick of his wrist, he cleared the stains on his robes and then skewered his father with a piercing gaze, as he snapped demandingly, "What on earth do you mean that you've 'met' her?"

Sirius' frown deepened as a puzzled expression swept over his features. "Just that. Narcissa popped into Grimmauld Place last night, bringing a witch with her. After the introductions were made, Narcissa left and Morticia and I talked. My mother's portrait had already told me about the contract so I wasn't surprised by the visit." He shook his head confusedly and stared back at Orion. "Why are you? You told Morticia to go see me, didn't you? That's what she told me."

Orion gaped at him for a second before a thunderous expression crossed his face, and he bit out furiously as his slammed his pumpkin juice glass on the low table, "That devious, conniving bitch! Oh, I should have known, I should have seen it coming! No wonder Voldemort left her behind so unconcernedly. He must have known what Morticia would do – that she would get to you before I did, before I could warn you about her!"

He gritted his teeth, and snapped crisply, "I told her to see you at some point, but I meant in a month or so, and she knew it. But it's my fault, I should have realized that she wouldn't waste any time and go behind my back…"

Orion trailed off as a sudden suspicion crept in his mind, remembering his father's cheerful attitude and good mood when he had popped into the manor. He stared at Sirius with a horrified expression on his face, and croaked out faintly, "You shagged her, didn't you? Please tell me you didn't."

Sirius' handsome face darkened as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't care for your accusing tone, pup. What if I did?"

The wizard shook his head and then let out a humorless bark of laughter. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had witty and intelligent conversation with a beautiful and attractive witch? Ages, pup, ages. Oh, I've had my dalliances here and there after I reentered pureblood society but I haven't had a witch in my bed since that bloody Dementor sucked my soul, son!" He shuddered and a haunted expression briefly swept over his features. "You can do the math. I've been in a very dry spell and that's not easy for a hot-blooded wizard like myself, pup."

At Orion's still horrified expression and silence, Sirius shot him a pointed glance and added coolly, "A beautiful witch threw herself at me last night and I wasn't going to refuse her. And I don't regret it." A rakish grin flashed on his face as he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "There's a feline, exotic quality to her, oozing dangerous seduction which is very appealing. And she's a tiger in bed, pup. I'm not one to shag and boast, and much less to my own son, but I must admit that I hadn't enjoyed myself so much in a very long time."

"You were duped, father," said Orion dismayed when he found his voice, as he jerkily carded his fingers through his hair. "Did you cast a contraceptive charm on her?" He wildly shook his head. "No, of course you didn't-"

"I didn't, but she did," interjected Sirius curtly, scowling at him with affronted indignation. "I don't go around bedding witches without worrying about getting them knocked up, son. I'm not a fool-"

"Right, she cast it on herself, did she?" gritted out Orion, his eyes narrowing to slits as he stared at his father, his voice turning crisp. "She went through the motions, undoubtedly, but did you check?"

"I saw the beam of the charm striking her, son!" said Sirius impatiently, his scowl darkening with irritation.

"But you evidently didn't make sure!" bellowed Orion angrily. He gritted his teeth and briskly waved a hand, as he took a deep breath to calm down. "I'm not blaming you – you had no reason to doubt that she had indeed cast the charm on herself. You didn't know what kind of witch she is. It's my fault for not having suspected that she would do something like this…"

He trailed off as his hands balled into fists, while his jaw clenched as he spat out acidly, "She was going to give me a sibling in a year or two, was she?" He shot his father a dark look. "Well, Dad, expect to have a new son or daughter in nine months, because I'm sure that Morticia had it all planned out. It must have been fairly easy for her – take a fertility potion, go see you, give you 'witty and intelligent conversation', as you said, then seduce you and pretend to cover all the bases."

Sirius stared at him with his jaw hanging slack, before he clicked his mouth shut, a musing expression sweeping over his face. Then, quite out of the blue, a bark of laughter erupted from his throat. "She tricked me?"

The wizard shook his head and then widely grinned. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised now, after what you've told me about her. But you shouldn't blame her, pup. She did tell me that she wanted to marry me because she wanted an heir with the Necromantic ability. She was honest, pup, as I've been trying to make you see-"

"If she was 'honest' it was merely a pretense to make you like her," interrupted Orion sharply, piercing his father with a narrowed gaze. "And why the hell aren't you angry? Don't you care that it's highly probable that she's carrying your child already?"

"I cannot do anything about it if you're right, can I?" said Sirius nonchalantly. His expression softened and he added candidly, "And I don't mind, pup. I rather like the idea of having another son or a daughter." He sighed and slowly carded his fingers through his long, black hair. "Of course that I would have liked to choose for myself my wife and the mother of my future children, but the existence of the contract has taken that choice out of my hands. And I think it's best if I just go along with it given the circumstances, since I don't want you to kill anyone."

The wizard intensely gazed at Orion as he leaned forward on his seat, adding in a soft mutter, "I've always wanted a family, pup. Merlin knows that I haven't been a good father to you, that I haven't been there when you needed me the most, but I'm trying to make it up to you. And I would like to have another chance to truly form a family of my own. It doesn't mean that you'll be excluded, of course you won't if that's what you fear! I want us all to be together-"

"That's not what troubles me, Dad," interrupted Orion quietly, a mild frown on his face. "I told you once that I wouldn't mind if you got married to some witch and decided to have more children. Remember that I told you that, the first time I took you to Lycaon?" He shot him a stern glance and gritted his teeth. "It's just that I don't like Morticia and that she has tricked us both. Surely you can see that!"

"I do, and she certainly wouldn't have been my choice for a wife, but I can fight my own battles, pup," interjected Sirius curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know you don't think much of me-"

"That's not true!" gasped out Orion taken aback, his eyes round.

"Yes, it is," said Sirius gruffly with a jerk of his head. "You think I need to be looked after and saved from troubles. You're always the one getting me out of sticky situations – rescuing me, when it should be the other way around, since I'm the father and you're the son-"

"And brother," interjected Orion in a low mutter.

Sirius reeled back as if he had been punched, his bluish grey eyes widening. But he composed himself in the next second and growled under his breath, "I see. Are you going to use the fact that you were Regulus to manipulate me through guilt?"

"That's not – I didn't," stuttered Orion, staring at him with round eyes. He adamantly shook his head, and mumbled quietly, "I didn't mean it that way, father. I know you don't like it when I bring it up, that it makes you feel uncomfortable-"

"Only a bit," interrupted Sirius, deeply sighing. "But it's not really your fault but my own." He intensely gazed at Orion and said vehemently, "Don't you see that it's exactly because I failed you in that life as well as in this one, that I don't want you to keep doing things for me?"

"You haven't failed me-"

"I won't discuss that with you," interrupted Sirius sternly, holding up a hand. "I'm perfectly aware of what my own failures and inadequacies, as first a brother and then a father, have been. My point is that my marriage to Morticia Mortimer is one problem I don't want you to solve for me."

The wizard paused to shoot Orion a wide grin full of self-confidence. "I can manage that witch perfectly well on my own. That I don't often use sly wiles and devious manipulations doesn't mean that I don't know how to roll the ball and play the game like the best of them. I was raised a Black, pup. I know how to best any dark pureblood in their own sneakiness."

A lopsided grin spread on Sirius' face and he shot him a wink, as he continued proudly, "And I'm a Marauder, never forget. Along with James, I was the top student in all our years in Hogwarts. That I never went around with my nose stuck in a book, like you, doesn't mean I'm stupid."

The wizard flashed him with a cheeky smile and tapped his forehead. "Even if I don't appear like it, given my good looks and charms, I've got the smarts, pup. Didn't I fool everyone when I cavorted with dark purebloods and when I became a Death Eater?" A serious expression swept over his face, and he added in a low voice with a slight grimace, "Aren't I fooling light wizards now by being in the Order and spying for you?"

Orion stared at him musingly, and then nodded, warmly smiling. "True. You can fool people when you want to." He shifted on his seat with uneasiness and shot him a quizzical and wary gaze. "So you want to deal with Morticia on your own?"

"I do," replied Sirius, a wolfish grin on his face. "Believe me, I can handle her." He let out a low bark of laughter under his breath. "She'll soon see that I'm not a wizard whose strings can be pulled by anyone, no matter how seductive and attractive she is." His eyes gleamed with a sparkle of challenge in them. "She will marry me, even if she's already pregnant, as you believe. There's nothing else she can do. Having a baby without being married would mean social suicide for her, since dark purebloods frown and look down at single mothers. Thus, it will mean that even though I can do nothing but accept her as my wife, I'll still be the one in control, pup."

The wizard paused and then shot him a stern glance. "I might never develop feelings for her but it's the children who matter, son. And she will not be able to take them away from me, if that's what she's planning once she has them. They'll be mine and they are what I care about the most."

"Alright, I understand," said Orion quietly, briefly nodding at him. "I'll leave it to you then." He grimaced and added in a low mutter, "You'll marry her, she'll have the baby, and we'll see from there on. If it works out for you, then I promise to do nothing. I won't stick my nose in your affairs."

Abruptly, Sirius had moved around the low table between them to crouch in front of Orion, grabbing his hands while he intensely peered up at him, as he said vehemently, "It will not be my affair, pup, you'll be a part of it too. After she has the child, then we'll form a family. You and I and your sibling, and her as well, if she turns out to be a good mother and wife, as she promised to you. I see this as a blessing in disguise, son. I was never able to give you a stable home life but this time I will. This time I won't mess up and leave you alone. Would you like that?"

Orion awkwardly shifted on his seat, not quite knowing what to respond. True, he had always wanted to be part of a loving and united family, but he thought that the ship had sailed a long time ago. He no longer felt he needed a father to always be there for him, or a mother, and he sure as hell would never see Morticia as his mother-figure.

Furthermore, even if the idea of having siblings appealed to him, since he had always yearned for one, he found himself to be in an altogether different stage in his life, given that he was considering to have his own children in the near future – his own family.

Yet, he wouldn't deny his father to have that which he wanted for himself, so he simply warmly smiled and gave the wizard a nod.

Sirius grinned, looking pleased, cheerful and happy at the perspective of soon having another kid. And Orion found himself grinning back at him, finding his father's joy infectious and truly believing now that the man could deal with the witch and that everything would turn out for the best for his dad. Merlin knew that the man deserved it after everything he had gone through.

Orion popped into his mouth a tiny cream pastry with a small cherry on top, indulging his sweet tooth and relaxing further in his couch, shooting his father a soft smile. "Then congratulations are in order, Dad."

Sirius' bluish grey eyes sparkled contently as he copied his son and gobbled down a pastry of his own. "Cheers for us both, pup."

When he had finished savoring the sweetness in his palate, Orion checked his wristwatch and then fluidly stood up, masking his face with nonchalance. "You're going to Lycaon tomorrow, right?"

Sirius peeled his gaze away from the pastries he had been eyeing again and shot him a glance. "Yes. You told me Remus would apprise me of what I had to do and how I had to act when you attacked the Burrow." He gazed at him suspiciously. "Why? You aren't going to go back on your promise of not hurting the Weasleys, are you?"

Orion waved a hand dismissively. "I would never break my word to you." He shot his father a wide smirk. "I mentioned it to give you the heads up. Remus and Greyback are officially the Alpha couple now. They have mated."

"WHAT-"

Orion was gone in the blink of an eye, snickering under his breath as he apparated away before he caught the rest of his father's furious roar. Oh, what he wouldn't give to see the encounter between his father and Greyback. Poor Remus was going to have quite an eventful day, with those two going for each other's throats.

* * *

"Arian was spouting metaphors," said Calypso with firm conviction, as she paced around the guest quarters in Zraven Citadel in which she had been cloistered.

Orion wearily rubbed his forehead, doing his best to follow her musings even though he was exhausted. The two weeks after his chat with his father had been tiring indeed.

Cyprian had raised several notches the frequency and intensity of his vampire training. After the Zraven Commander decided that sword-fighting was simply not Orion's thing, he had started teaching him how to use daggers. Thankfully, Orion displayed abilities in wielding daggers and short knives, to the immense reassurance and satisfaction of Cyprian.

Orion, for his part, thought that it wasn't truly fair to be considered an awful sword-fighter. How was he supposed to coordinately wield a heavy sword with his left hand while using a wand with his right? Cyprian and the other vampire fighters excelled at it, but it wasn't surprising given their experience, their body types and bulging muscles. Orion simply didn't have the constitution for wagging around heavy swords, and they just got in the way of his spell casting.

His lean body, after weeks of intense exercise, had taut and defined muscles but he would never be a heavy-weight lifter, even if he had a modicum of vampire strength. And he found that swords were altogether too much trouble, too big and encumbering to be carrying around while dueling and fighting.

Even after Cyprian had inspected Gryffindor's sword at Orion's insistence, and had figured out the spell to break the charms on it that had made the sword unshrinkable, Orion had still never become proficient at carrying it and wielding it at the same time that he cast spells with his wand. But he grumpily thought that he should at least be considered a moderately good sword-fighter, even if Cyprian clearly didn't. He couldn't best vampires at it but he could surely best wizards.

Nevertheless, swords were bothersome in his opinion and he had instantly taken a liking to daggers. Those he could easily carry around and whip out and slash out with them while using his wand. He was very good with them and had made enormous and speedy progress at moving fast and at efficiently using his vampire-like quick reflexes. Lezander was quite proud of him even if Cyprian hardly ever gave him a word of praise.

Added to that training, the Zraven Commander had started giving him lessons in vampire battle tactics. In that, Orion was patently good at absorbing the information quickly and with great perceptiveness, understanding, and brilliancy. After Gellert's lessons on the matter, it was nothing new to Orion even if vampire ways clearly differed from wizards'. But strategies and tactics were something which required a fast, sharp and clever mind, and Orion had it.

Therefore, on the whole, Orion contently thought he was doing very well in his vampire training. But it hadn't been the only thing which had occupied his time.

Now that he was bonded to Lezander as the vampire's lifemate, the whole vampire world seemed to have been opened to him. Things that Lezander had never told him before, the young Rege was now sharing with him – information about vampires and their ways which had always been kept a secret from others.

Orion was vastly enjoying learning about it, and Draco too, since Lezander made it a point to reveal such matters when the three of them were together, usually in bed. Even if Draco wasn't yet the vampire's official mate, Orion understood Lezander's reasons for disclosing such matters to the young pureblood. It was a way to reel him in. And it was working so far.

If there was anything Draco loved, it was court conspiracies, schemes and political plots, and Lezander's narrations about the history of Zraven Citadel and its members were full of those – who had 'dethroned' whom, how the first Zraven had become the Rege, pertinent information about his Advisors and their strengths and weaknesses, how Lezander's Court was composed of vampire 'nobles', considered as such since some had truly held nobiliary titles centuries ago and others were given such when they had been considered worthy by the Rege of the time, and such other matters. And all of it, Draco had absorbed like a sponge, his silvery eyes sparkling with interest and shrewd calculation.

Orion had been fascinated by it too, and also by vampire tradition. How at first, vampires had simply fed from muggles, draining them and without any scruples of leaving them dead. After, during the centuries of superstition when muggles believed that vampires truly existed and thus started hunting them down, vampires were forced to form covens or clans in secret or secluded places, whilst changing tactics and getting 'blood servants', as they were called.

Such were people selected by a vampire and seduced or persuaded to become their blood donor during a period of time. They were given, in exchange, the vampire's own blood to expand the blood servant's life span and free them from possible diseases or ill health. Some of them were either turned into vampires at some point, if the vampire wanted to keep them and if they were considered worthy, or they were just sent back to their former lives after taking an Unbreakable Vow to never disclose any information regarding vampires.

At least, that was how Zraven vampires had gone about such things, since they had the rule of only taking wizards or witches as blood servants, never a muggle. But it had been many decades since the last blood servant had been taken. Nowadays, Zraven vampires simply fed from muggles in surrounding towns, just enough to satiate themselves without killing them, and then just simply obliviating them.

The reason for this was because they didn't want to add more members, who could possibly later be turned into vampires, to their Clan. For some time they had been worried about the unsustainable expansion in their numbers. At present, the only new members in Zraven Clan were the children born from vampire couples and it didn't happen very often given their long lifespans. Indeed, Orion had only seen five little impish vampires running around the Citadel.

Lezander had told him that covens, composed of non-magical vampires, had different traditions and rules of their own, mostly depending on their leader. Some simply fed, killed and disposed of evidence, others still kept blood servants and either ruthlessly used them and killed them in the end, kept them as pets, or truly cared about them and considered them to be members of their coven. On another aspect, some covens openly interacted with muggles, posing like one of them and having businesses and lives in that world, whilst others had a secret location and only ventured out to feed.

Yet, even if covens and clans differed in their laws and traditions, they had several things in common. Firstly, their universal law of never letting muggles become aware of their existence. Secondly, of wiping out any rogue vampire that by their actions threatened to disclose the former. And thirdly, their aversion to werewolves. The latter stemmed from the Vampire-Werewolf Wars of long ago –which werewolves had evidently lost, given their current precarious situation– and Orion had been avid for details since it had been very lightly covered in his history classes at Durmstrang and Hogwarts.

Furthermore, what had also captured his and Draco's attention was the existence of a Vampire Council, composed by the leaders of the most important covens and clans. They only met when serious circumstances required them to come to some decision and plan of action, and it was usually due to some misbehaving coven or other.

Lezander, as the new Rege of Zraven Clan, was now a member of it, and Orion's eyebrows had shot upwards when the vampire had disclosed to him that there would be a meeting of the Council soon.

Orion wasn't told why, and it was evident that lifemate or not, Lezander couldn't reveal such things to him, but he had the inkling that it had to be due to the happenings in the wizarding world and the Zraven Clan's alliance to him.

Nevertheless, he knew that if he had become Lezander's mate officially, then he would have been apprised about it. Indeed, Orion had soon discovered that his extent as Lezander's lifemate was widely known around the Citadel, as well as the particulars of the young Rege's relationship with him and Draco.

It shouldn't have surprised him, since he didn't think that secrets remained such for long in a place like the Citadel. But the differing reactions of the Zraven vampires to him and Draco still startled him a bit. Oh, they weren't by any means confused or censuring – throughout their long lives it was clear that vampires had seen more eyebrow-arching things than a relationship between three people.

However, they clearly understood what it meant. They knew Orion had become their Rege's bonded lifemate but that he wouldn't be so in an official capacity. Thus, they treated him amicably and welcomingly, but they never discussed any internal affairs with him.

On the other hand, they evidently caught the drift in the wind regarding Draco's future role within their Clan, with a patent certainty that their Rege would in the end convince the young wizard to become his official mate. It was evident in the way they had started including a very reluctant Draco in their everyday life.

At first, Orion had felt hurt by that exclusion but those feelings had soon vanished, knowing it had been his own decision which had led to it. He couldn't be what Lezander needed in a mate in an official capacity and there was nothing he could do about it. He had his own duties and goals which would always take him away from Zraven Citadel.

Yet, Orion had still felt a smidgen of pained wistfulness when Draco had been dragged by a very pretty young female vampire to chat with her friends in the courtyard, when the young wizard had been hounded by a scholarly-looking old vampire who took Draco to his quarters to show him his personal library and offer him interesting books to read, when a vampire fighter had pulled Draco into the barracks to get to know his comrades and laugh together, and when Mireilla had introduced the young pureblood to the Advisors, something she had never done with Orion.

After every one of those occasions, Draco had come back scowling, complaining, and peevishly miffed at all those vampires who seemingly couldn't leave him alone. And Orion had simply just wished he could have been in his shoes, so thoroughly being included in the Zraven Clan.

But he found satisfaction in other things. The Zraven fighters, at least, did view him as a comrade-in-arms and he had gained their friendship and respect. And he found further satisfaction in his nights, filled with Draco and Lezander.

And he had indeed spent every single night with them, since Voldemort had never summoned him again. The wizard could have, given that Orion was back to wearing his Black Heir ring and had informed the wizard of it through their mind-connection. He knew Voldemort could feel, through the ring, when he was intimate with someone, but it was hardly something he worried about since the wizard knew him to be with Lezander. And he had decided to wear the ring again in case the wizard needed to quickly get a hold of him given that the time of the attacks was approaching.

But Voldemort had never summoned him or forcibly apparated him to his side by the use of the ring. Even though such disregard and seemingly indifference had slightly worried Orion, he had still vastly enjoyed all of his nights with Draco and Lezander, soon discovering the differences between them when it came to sexual attitudes and bedside manners.

If left to his own devices, Lezander was passionate in the way he took his time, plunging slowly and gently, savoring each thrust, lasting for what seemed like hours, until he made sure that first Orion reached his peak and them himself. Draco, on the other hand, was demanding and took rather than gave, he liked to be rough and slam continuously hard and fast, first seeking his own completion and then pleasuring Orion until he reached his.

Orion liked both ways just as much, and the times in which he topped, his style alternated depending on his mood. So when he felt like being rough, he took Draco, knowing that was what the wizard enjoyed the most. And when he wanted to be gentle and loving, he took Lezander. And they spent their nights like that, jointly, and with Orion always in the middle, since Lezander and Draco still never initiated anything between the two of them.

It was Orion who they each wanted, and thus, it was Orion who by morning time felt so satiated but also so exhausted that he had to make great efforts to crawl out of bed, groaning with tiredness, while Draco smugly smirked at him and Lezander tenderly caressed him, smiling widely.

For his part, Orion usually shot them a baleful glare, secretly wishing those two would someday soon get over their mutual dislike and start shagging each other. It was something he looked forward to, not only because it would give him some respite, but because the two of them, with their contrasting good looks, made a very enticing picture together. And every time Orion imagined them together like that and with him watching or participating, it left him breathless with desire, and also yearning since he knew it would finally cement their relationship and further it.

Besides all that, he had been going to Rosier Manor every day, to supervise and conduct the DA's practice sessions. And Orion was very proud of the eighty-five Durmstrang students who composed his Dark Army – their education in the Dark Arts shone through, as well as the discipline and coordination they had acquired after so many lessons and practices.

He had even seen that Draco had truly fit in with them. And since the young pureblood was considered part of the Elite, Orion had seen promising leadership skills in Draco when each Elite member took command of a battalion for the battle simulations. Furthermore, it was clear that Draco's lessons with Romulus Rosier were baring many fruits, since the young pureblood now displayed a wider array of dark curses than he had previously done with only Lucius' teachings to show for it.

All in all, Orion thought that the DA practices were coming along very well and that they would be ready for any battle to come. And he was also proud in the way they respected and admired him, instantly following all of his orders with much faith and trust in him. Thus, he felt also proud of himself since it was clear that he knew in which way to lead them under every possible simulated circumstances.

Indeed, some of the Elite had remarked on his 'tactics'. There was his sharp, curt or stern tone of voice, brooking no opposition to his orders and making the DA instantly understand that his command had to be followed without any hesitations, no matter what. Viktor Vlonski called it his 'despot-mode'. Then there was his quiet or pensive tone of voice, which indicated to them that opinions and suggestions would be welcomed. And his worried, frazzled or loud tone of voice, which basically meant 'save yourselves!' and 'do anything you can to salvage the situation'.

Orion chuckled under his breath, barely paying attention to the pacing and worried-looking Calypso. He admitted to himself that he had much fun during the DA lessons and that they were all so well acquainted with each other that they formed a tight-knit, united and coordinated group, with each member balancing each other's strengths and weaknesses in spell casting and combat dueling.

Apart from that, he had continued his studies for his PRIMEs and was almost done with his revisions and preparation. And to his surprise, the very same day he had spent a few hours in concentrating to achieve another animagus form, he had succeeded in it.

In retrospective, Orion knew he should have expected that it would be much easier for him than the time when he had attained his Blackwing small eagle form or his Firebreath true wyvern animagus form. He thought it was something like languages, learning the first few was difficult but it became increasingly easier with subsequent ones. And his Human Transformation professor at Durmstrang had once, years ago, told him that his aptitude for the animagus ability, given that his wyvern form was that of a magical creature and thus extremely unusual, had to be due to the Metamorphagi trait in his Black bloodline.

Thus, Orion had effortlessly mastered how to turn into a tiny green lizard that could slip into slits and cracks in stonewalls and that could quickly scamper, climb up any wall and other surfaces, and shoot out like a flash through any terrain. And given that lizards could be found in any country and town, it was his most inconspicuous of forms, ideal for spying or just to turn tail and vanish from any sticky situation.

Draco had sniggered and mockingly laughed at him when Orion had proudly transformed into Tails the lizard, and the young wizard had even stomped on his tail just to see Orion squirm as a new tail sprouted again – it had felt very uncomfortable and painful, as Orion had experienced. In retribution, Orion had climbed up Draco's shoe and chomped down his tiny sharp teeth into the boy's ankle.

Lizards had many resources at their disposal, Draco had soon found out. However, Draco had still taunted him, and when Orion had transformed back and moodily demanded that the boy showed him his own animagus form, the young pureblood had merely smirked at him and high-handedly refused.

Orion still wondered what it could be. He knew it had to be something with wings, from Draco's conversation with Severus at Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower, when Draco had wanted to transform to fly over the battlements after Orion had fallen with Dumbledore. But despite that, Draco was being very secretive about the animagus form which Severus had helped him attain. Undoubtedly, the boy was waiting for some grand occasion in which to reveal it, knowing how Draco just loved to hog the limelight.

Lezander, for his part, had found Greentail to be very endearing and cute, which had earned him a bite as well. Orion was getting quite fed up with the vampire finding him 'cute' at every instance. Nowadays, if he wasn't called 'kitten' he was called 'little Lizzy', Lezander doing it as a form of affection and Draco jeeringly and mockingly, just to annoy the hell out of him.

And finally, on another note, Orion had at last done two things he had felt he needed to do.

Firstly, he had sent Dobby to covertly pop into Spinner's End and find the pertinent issue of Le Monde Magique. And he had sent the house-elf to Durmstrang's Headmaster's office, with the newspaper and with a letter addressed to Roman Komorov explaining what he wanted the former Curse Breaker to do with it. Orion still hadn't received a reply from the Aux leader, but he knew that Komorov would be looking into it, given the importance to thwart any Illuminati scheme.

Secondly, he had started visiting Calypso in her secluded quarters at the other end of the Citadel, by then filled with all her things which Draco had brought back from Potter Manor.

The first few days, he had found her still angry and fuming, while she barely spared him a second glance since she had been solely focused in her work researching into muggle modern weaponry and warfare. Nonetheless, as she had once asked him to do, Orion had taken her notes back with him, to start informing himself with everything she had learned so far.

And by the end of the first week, he had found her in a better mood. Calypso had looked resigned with her fate and had softly told him that she didn't blame him for Lezander's actions or hold it against him that he hadn't done anything to prevent her 'imprisonment', as she still called it. Moreover, she had started brewing healing potions for the Elite to use in the attacks, if required, and she had finished her research into muggle religions and how Arian could use them for his own aims.

It was the latter which they were discussing at present, since Calypso had sent a page boy –one of the little vampire children – to find him and ask him to come to her quarters, given that she was still not allowed to leave them, per Lezander's instructions. Calypso had once set a toe out of her rooms and a vampire had instantly materialized out of shadows to politely escort her back.

Orion pulled out of his recollections of the past two weeks and glanced at the pacing young witch.

"Arian doesn't plan to come out from the skies, blazing in fiery light and with his Veela wings spread," said Calypso, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the idea. "Muggles would think it was a publicity stunt or a show of some kind. The only ones who would know it wasn't, would be the muggle government. And they would think he was the result of some kind of genetic mutation and they would sic their soldiers on him, to bring him down and then cage him in some lab and test him."

She swirled around in her pacing, and shot Orion a glance, her lips thinning. "Not that I think Arian would allow them, mind you. I believe he could easily protect himself and escape, if it came to that. But it won't, because the religious nonsense he spouted to you were simply metaphors. I'm sure now. It was meant to distract us from his true plan of action."

"Which is?" prompted Orion, frowning musingly as he leaned back on his seat.

"To reveal himself to those with true religious power," said Calypso with staunch conviction. "And I'm talking about the kind of power that can move masses, not about religious figureheads whose preachings are simply taken as mellow lifestyle advices."

Orion stared at her with puzzlement, and the young witch gestured with her hand as she said quietly, "Think about it, Orion. You surely know this already given your muggle upbringing. From what I've read in their books, the vast majority of the muggle population, even if they believe in some God or other in their differing ways, are skeptics and practical in their day-to-day life. They wouldn't believe in a messiah if one started to roam about and preach, claiming to be God himself or one of the many prophets the muggles have had, reborn."

Calypso clicked her tongue, waving a hand dismissively. "Well, at least not the sane ones, because the muggles apparently have their weirdos and creepy sects. But the point is that not even ages ago did muggles believe their later hailed Jesus Christ when the man attempted to get his teachings through. They only started believing after the man was tortured, crucified, killed, and made a martyr, and only because his followers staunchly continued with the man's work and because the Peter one wizened up and built a structured institution around their new religion."

She paused, and shot him a pointed glance. "He built the Church, and that gave him power, because it helped spread teachings that appealed to the masses. And the muggles in power, the Romans, later started seeing that it could be used to control the discontented populace. If this hadn't happened, Christianity would have simply faded into nothing, washed away and forgotten, like many other small religions did in the past. So it's evident Arian will not trot around claiming he's a prophet, at least not publicly."

"What do you think he'll do, then?" interjected Orion befuddled, since it was clear to him that she had learned more about religions than he ever knew about.

The Dursleys had never given a fig about his religious education. They had hardly cared about it all, and they had only gone once every blue moon to the protestant church to which all of their neighbors went to. And he was sure that they had only done it to keep up appearances. They had certainly never dragged him along with them.

What he knew was from reading some stuff out of mere curiosity or just knowing what muggle kids his age had been aware of, from hearsay at school or from what he overhead from the telly. And from what he, at present, knew after having read Calypso's notes.

"If I were him, a half-Veela and with his powers and knowledge of the past," said Calypso slowly, as she tapped a finger on her chin, "then I would go to the main leaders of several religions and only speak to them, as I said before. But I wouldn't bother going to the Catholics' Pope or any other figurehead like that. I would go to the leaders of the zealous and radical ones – the Opus Dei extremists, the Muslim Ayatollahs, and such. Those who hold direct power over their subjects. Those who if they said 'go there and kill yourself kamikaze style and you'll be rewarded in heaven', their followers would do so without a second thought. That is true religious power when it comes down to control over subjects."

"You mean for the gaining of an army of zealots?" interjected Orion, his eyebrows shooting upwards, a frisson of dread and worry coiling in his stomach. "You think that's what Arian wants?"

"It could be, if he's preparing for a war between our world and the muggles'," said Calypso gravely. "But even if he's not, since we are not sure about it or about to which lengths he's prepared to go, it would still be advantageous for him to make such connections. Those types of religious leaders would be tempted by the power that Arian could offer to them – by the mere idea of the existence of magic. And to reveal himself and our world to them, would be a way to start that campaign."

She frowned musingly, and added slowly, "In other countries, he would find it even easier. Particularly in India, since they are predominantly Hindus and thus believe in what muggles consider to be the supernatural, like spirits and such. And by correctly believing in the rebirth of souls, it would only mean a very small leap for them to believe in magic, which is so thoroughly linked to it. The same applies to several Asian countries. The Japanese believe in a mix of Buddhism and Shintoism, and the latter is all about the gods or spirits of nature and those of their ancestors. The Chinese, even though they've been under an atheist regime for decades, have a millenary culture based on supernatural beliefs as well."

She shot him a piercing glance. "I don't think it would take much for Arian to convince any Asian country about the existence of magic if he presented some evidence to them. And he could take hold of the Middle East through the Ayatollahs and he can grasp the western countries by promising power to their leaders. And he can do the latter either directly or through his Illuminati, who apparently have positions of influence within the muggle world."

"Right," said Orion shortly, as he jerkily carded his fingers through his hair. "And I can prevent all of this, how?"

"I don't think you can prevent it at all," muttered Calypso worriedly, eyeing him warily. "You're outmatched by Arian, at present, Orion. He has his solid base of followers, warring factions within the Illuminati or not." She let out a long, deep sigh and continued quietly, "I think the only thing you can do is the same as you've been doing so far - wait and see what he does and then react to it as best as you can."

She shot him a piercing glance, and added firmly, "But what you can and should do is start disclosing that you were Mordred. You need to start gaining more followers, and dark wizards would flock to you if they knew. They would be ready to fight for you till the end. Mordred is an icon for all of us, you should use this."

Orion tiredly rubbed his forehead and nodded at her. "I will at some point, Scaly." He shot her a resigned glance. "At least I'll tell the Elite when I mark them. I'll see about telling others later."

"It's a start," conceded Calypso, though she didn't look thoroughly satisfied that he wasn't prepared to go all the way in his revelations to dark wizarding kind. But she didn't press him for more, and then suddenly eyed him with some hesitation. "There's something else. Something I suspect."

Orion pierced her with his gaze, his curiosity and interest piqued. "What is it?"

"I don't think he was referring to Mordred when he spoke to you about your first life," said Calypso quietly. She frowned and briefly shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. From what we know of Mordred's life, from textbooks and what the Lady of the Lake told you, he had no love interest. He only later married some dark pureblood witch to have his heirs and start the Peverell line. And Arian affirms that the both of you were intimately involved which each other during your first lives." She waved a hand dismissively, as she added shortly, "Oh, he could have been someone when you were Mordred, but I don't think he was referring to those times at all."

"Then who do you think he and I were in our first lives?" interjected Orion, staring at her with widening eyes.

"I don't know," said Calypso with a sigh. "I don't have the faintest idea, but you should discover it as soon as you can." She gazed at him gravely. "Your first life, what you had with him and who you were, it's what drives him, that's certain. And the sooner you know about it, the sooner you can use it to control him. I think that's the only power you will ever have over him."

"Great. Fantastic," grumbled Orion sourly, darkly scowling at her. "So that's your advice? Very useful, Scaly." He scoffed sarcastically, his voice turning crisp and caustic. "Honestly, you wanted to see me to tell me stuff that is totally useless to me? What was the point? You've said it yourself, I can't do anything about none of it."

"I'm trying to help," snapped Calypso briskly, a hurt expression briefly sweeping over her face. "I'm sorry if nothing of what I've said is of any utility to you, but I thought it would be."

Orion shot her a careful glance and carded his fingers through his hair, as he mumbled quietly, "It's I who apologizes, Scaly." He sighed and eyed her tiredly. "I appreciate the information and your opinions, and I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you."

Then he suddenly threw up a hand with angered exasperation. "But all I see are problems, Calypso! I'm sure we will win the war in England, but after that, everything is uncertain and troubles just keep piling up. I never fathomed that it would be this hard, even if Gellert warned me that it would just keep getting tougher." He grimaced, and added grimly, "And I don't see how I'll be able to succeed. As you said, Arian outmatches me, I can't even control Voldemort, and now there's the Illuminati to think of."

"You can control Voldemort," interjected Calypso firmly and reassuringly. "You know what he wants – you. And you know what he secretly desires-"

"My love?" shot out Orion sneeringly, then letting out a mocking snort.

Calypso arched an impassive eyebrow at him. "Yes." She waved a hand dismissively as she said solemnly, "Choose to believe it or not, I won't keep trying to convince you of it. But my point is that you can succeed. You have him to support and aid you, as long as you want, if you keep giving him what he desires."

She shot him a pointed and stern glance. "And you should keep doing it because you need him and will never find a greater or more powerful ally. On the other hand, you have the Elite, the DA, Lezander and his Clan, the werewolves, and you will have the Aux." She widely smiled at him as she whispered softly, "So you see, you aren't alone."

Orion grunted as a form of acceptance while he crossed his arms over his chest, looking away from her. "And do I have you?"

He glanced back at her to see her eyebrows shooting upwards, as she said vehemently, "Of course you do!" She shot him an apprehensive and worried glance, nibbling on her lower lip. "Surely you don't think that I've deserted you, just because I don't want to tell you about… um, well, my secret." She peered at him anxiously. "I haven't. You can still count on me for anything."

"How honestly do you mean that?" said Orion carefully, regarding her closely.

Calypso frowned at him with concern and puzzlement. "Anything, Orion. You know I would do anything you asked of me."

"Good." Orion leaned back on his seat and widely smiled at her with satisfaction. "Then agree to marry me."

Calypso's eyes popped out as she choked, looking like a grindylow out of water having an apoplexy. With a last frantic gasp for air, recovering her breath and voice, she croaked out faintly, "What?"

Orion flashed her with a roguish grin. "What you heard, Scaly. I've just proposed to you." He chuckled under his breath, amused at her reaction. "Oh, my mode of declaration isn't romantic, I know. But I thought it was best to just skip the rubbish and get to the point."

"I don't understand," said Calypso weakly, her face as pale as a ghost's, as she gazed at him searchingly with eyes round as saucers. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No jokes," said Orion, devilishly grinning at her. "The idea has been floating in my mind ever since my last conversation with the Kraljica Mati. And my father's recent decision to walk down the nuptial path, and his reason for it, made me determine that my idea is the wisest one." His grin widened. "It's all about the children, he said, referring to his own. And I completely agree, thinking of mine."

Calypso frenetically shook her head. "I still don't understand."

"Family, Scaly," said Orion with an impatient roll of his eyes. "I'm talking about forming a family with your help."

"But your children will have families," interjected Calypso confusedly, staring at him as if he had lost all his marbles. "They will have you and their respective other fathers - Voldemort, Lezander, and Draco."

"Quite. And that's exactly the problem," said Orion coolly, arching an eyebrow at her. "What kind of stable home life can they have coming from different fathers who will want to raise them in their ways? None at all, since I won't be able to provide them with one by myself."

He pierced her with a pointed gaze, as he continued to make matters plain to her, "My son with Lezander will be raised in Zraven Citadel, since the Kraljica Mati said the boy will be born a vampire. My daughter with Draco will be raised there as well for most of the time, if by then Draco and Lezander are together. But if they are not, then Draco will want to fully raise her in the wizarding world, like a Malfoy. And here begins the problem. Then, my oldest, my son with Voldemort, will be raised as a dark wizard, under the direct influence of him if I do nothing to counterbalance it. And we know what it could mean – another jaded Tom Riddle in our hands, who can possibly turn out as messed up as Voldemort and end up killing me."

Calypso blinked at him repeatedly, perplexed and flabbergasted, with a pink blush spreading on her cheeks as she said slowly, "You mean that you want to provide them with a stable home life by creating one with me and marrying me?"

"Exactly!" said Orion, grinning at her triumphantly. "I want them to have a good childhood, one I didn't have. They must have unity and some place they can call their own, in which to be together as frequently as possible since I don't want them to be apart from each other for long periods of time. Siblings should be raised together as much as possible - I want them to be united. And I can give them that, if I have a home with a wife, with someone who could be their mother figure." He sighed grimly and briskly carded his fingers through his hair. "Merlin knows that they will need a mother, since I'll try my best but I doubt I'll be able to spend much time with them."

He paused and then intensely gazed into her eyes. "I want you to be their mother, Scaly. There's no one else I would trust with something like this. And there's no one better to counterbalance Voldemort's influence on my oldest son." He gestured at her and added stoically, "You and I think alike. Sure, you go ahead with your dark pureblood ideals further than I do, but not to the extent that Voldemort does. You're very moderate in comparison. But besides that, we agree on all other matters. I can think of no one better to be a positive influence on my children or to be in charge of raising them when they are not with their fathers."

Calypso remained silent, still flushed and eyeing him if he had suddenly sprouted another head, and Orion finally pinned her with a grave gaze, as he said softly, "I know I'm asking a lot from you, but I'll be completely fair to you, Scaly. The place I want them to call their home is Rosier Manor, since you'll be comfortable there. It's vast and can easily house the three children, and Lezander and Draco if they agree to spend some time there, all together when they are not in their respective homes."

Calypso frowned at him, looking flustered as she jerkily tugged at the cuffs of her robes. "I see what you want. A marriage of convenience."

"It's not a marriage of convenience when it's between friends who deeply care for each other, like we do," interjected Orion calmly, shooting her a warm smile. "I love you as I would love the dearest of sisters, and I know you love me too. I'm proposing a union, like the Malfoy's." He shot her a pointed glance. "They form a team together, supporting each other through thick and thin, like the best of allies, while giving each other the freedom to discreetly be with other love interests. I would give you that as well. You'll find me to be the most agreeable and generous of husbands, Scaly. I promise you that."

He paused to pierce her with his eyes, and added vehemently, "Anything you want, you'll have. The funds to refurbish Rosier Manor and bring it back to its former glory, as you've always dreamt about. The liberty to have lovers and even to break our marriage if you want to marry someone else in the future. I would never deny you that. I know you'll want children of your own at some point, to carry the Rosier line. And you'll be free to do so."

Orion waved a hand all-encompassingly. "I only ask that you remain with me until my children reach their majority. After that, you'll still be young and you'll still be able to form your own family with some other wizard. And if you want your own kids before that, I would welcome them with open arms. I would acknowledge them as my own, if you wanted. I can do anything you like. I'm very flexible with this."

"I don't think I can do it," breathed out Calypso, her voice a thin, faint thread. "I'm not ready to be a mother for any child, Orion, as much as I would like to help you."

Orion leaned forward to grab her hands, and warmly smiled at her as he bore his emerald eyes into her frantic black ones. "Just think about it. I don't require an immediate answer. Take as long as you like. Take a year! I can wait. There's no hurry."

Calypso weakly nodded at him, and then whispered hesitatingly, "Alright. I will think about it. But I give no promises."

"It's all I ask for," said Orion contently, widely grinning her.

"They will not like this, you know?" muttered Calypso, eyeing him with apprehension.

Orion quirked an eyebrow. "You mean Lez and Draco?"

"And Voldemort, particularly," said Calypso, anxiously biting her lower lip.

Orion scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. "He has no say in whom I marry or what I do. Besides, none of them would think I was starting a romantic relationship with you. They would know and come to understand why I married you."

"If you say so," murmured Calypso, not sounding sure at all. She heavily sighed as if a heavy burden had been unloaded on her shoulders. "But I will consider it. And I'll try not to take long to make up my mind."

Orion flashed a wide, satisfied smile at her, and he stood up and pecked her on her forehead. "Good. I'll wait for your decision with abated breath. I hope to call you soon my fiancé." He rakishly grinned at her. "I'll be the best and most charming of husbands, and you'll be envied by all other witches, you'll see, if you agree."

He shot her a wink, and then strolled out of her room, feeling as if he had tucked a great accomplishment under his belt.

He had started defining that aspect of his life, and amidst all the other uncertainties of the future, it brought him a deep sense of surety and reassurance, since he knew that Calypso would never let him down. She was his pillar of strength, always a solid fixture in his life, of comfort, of solace, of companionship, of mutual understanding and deep regard, no matter the ups and downs, his or hers. She was always there, steadfastly by his side, and he always wanted her to remain so.

She was, indeed, precious to him. There could be no better mother for his future children.

* * *

The next day he would be turning seventeen. And in two days, the attacks of August the first would be launched, but Orion was vastly enjoying himself at present, with no concerns about the attacks since everything and everyone was ready.

Thus, he was strolling around Zraven Citadel's courtyard, with moonlight shinning on him, stars sparkling from the dark skies, and a buzz of activity all around him. He had never seen something quite like it and his breath caught in his throat at the sheer beauty of it.

He was in the midst of the Midnight Summer Fair. It was held every year in a different location, be it muggle, hosted by a coven, or magical, hosted by a clan. Yet no matter where, it was always carried with much secrecy from the outside world of non-vampires.

Orion had heard much about it from Lezander and he had the suspicion that it was being held in Zraven Citadel that year for his very own benefit. The young Rege must have planned it and pulled some strings to change the venue at a very short notice, and Orion couldn't think of a better coming of age present. The Fair was fascinating - never had he imagined or thought about the things vampires did for a living or mere hobby.

Now, as he gazed at the Fair, it was no wonder that Lezander had been so busy the last three days. Orion and Draco had only seen the vampire at bedtime.

The whole vast expanse of the courtyard was filled with tents of velvety fabric, each displaying different colors: violets, ocean blues, emerald greens, moon silvers, crimson reds or sunlight yellows. And each holding within their magically expanded space, stands and shelves, whole stores to sell or simply show their wares.

They displayed antiques of every sort, made by vampires, exquisite examples of fine artisan sorcery or hand-made works of art. There were pieces of furniture styled as those of every conceivable past century. There were musical instruments, some so old-fashioned and unique that Orion didn't know the names for them, along with pianolas, violins, harps, mandolins and such. There was a tent filled with clothes after the fashion of Medieval, Byzantine, Renaissance, Baroque or Victorian times. There were ancient weapons of every sort, varied and from several countries, jeweled swords, precious millenary katanas, archery bows, Turkish curved long knives and the like.

There were decorative artisan pieces, sculptures, mirrors, portraits, landscapes, vases, lamps, chandeliers, clocks, ceramics and porcelains, of different centuries and regions. There was a tent filled with sparkling jewels and gems, with priceless necklaces, earrings, bracelets, crowns and tiaras. There were books, tomes so ancient and unique that only magic was binding the pages together. Books written in Sanskrit, old Greek, Latin, and some in modern day languages which Orion had never learned, tomes about every field of magic and many about muggle subjects or just simply ancient novels, treatises or journals. One other tent had all sorts of vanity accesories, unique and enticingly scented perfumes, beauty potions to correct or glamour imperfections or to change eye or hair color, cosmetics such as powders and rouges, bath salts to soothe the body and smoothen skin to make it creamy and silky, hand-made soaps with varying properties, love potions and the like. And there were many other tents displaying every imaginable sorts of other things.

It was like an immense bazaar, and every time Orion stepped into a tent, he felt as if he was plunged into a different world of a past century and civilization. It was magnificent, like a journey through time and cultures.

He was being accompanied by Draco, since Merlin knew where Lezander was, and since Calypso, having permission to attend the Fair, had quickly left his side after meeting them at the courtyard.

She had been acting very strangely towards him since the previous night, when he had 'proposed' to her. The young witch behaved awkwardly around him, and blushed and flustered every time their gazes met.

Orion wasn't quite sure what it meant. Either she was seriously considering marrying him and it made her nervous to take such a huge step, or it was something else altogether.

Briefly, he had considered the possibility that he could have unwittingly stirred things within her. He knew she had had a crush on him when they were younger – she had once mentioned it with much good-humor. But he couldn't believe that she still had any kind of romantic feelings or interest in him - surely not.

Yet, it worried him a bit, because it hadn't been his intention to use that to make her agree to what he had proposed. But he had, in the end, dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Calypso had always fancied men like Snape, older and with more experience, and she had often remarked that he was just too immature for her tastes.

Orion shook his head, pulling out of his musing, and grinned as he glanced at Draco. The young wizard looked fascinated by all the things the Fair's tents were displaying, his silvery eyes sparkling. And Orion chuckled under his breath when he saw that the boy was holding, as usual nowadays, a book in his hands.

One of Draco's dirty little secrets was that he was a bookworm at heart. It wouldn't do for the Slytherin Prince to trot around Hogwarts with his pointy nose stuck in a book, but the young wizard did indulge in it whenever he was alone or with people he trusted.

And Draco could be seen with a book in hand around the Citadel ever since Orion had dragged him, scowling and bickering, to the huge library that could be found in the depths of the carved out Carpathian Mountains. The vast library was at the very heart of the Citadel, connecting several hallways, tunnels, and small castles of minor nobles of the Zraven Court.

It not only held countless books about magic, same as could be found in the library of a pureblood's manor, but also tomes about vampires written by vampires – thus holding true accounts and information that could be found nowhere in the wizarding world. It was those tomes which had captured Draco's attention, interest, and fascination.

It had taken Orion five minutes of reading out loud a book about the varying lifespans of the different types of vampires and their mates, and Draco had halted all grumbles and complaints for being dragged there, had yanked the book from Orion's hands with a sniff, and then had instantly sat down to lose himself in the book.

From then onwards, Draco always had a vampire tome in hand. It made Orion triumphantly grin - inwardly that was, because if Draco saw it, then the boy would never again pick up a book about vampires.

Orion shot the young wizard another glance. Draco's fingers were practically twitching as they inspected a wide selection of jeweled brooches, just the kind that purebloods like Draco loved, with intertwined silver figures of snakes, thorny vines, or the like. And Orion inwardly smiled with amusement, knowing what was in Draco's mind.

"My galleons are your galleons until we have restored you as the Malfoy Heir, you know that," he said impassively, untying his money pouch from his belt and tossing it to Draco, along with a grin. "Go buy me a coming of age present, Drakey. I expect it to be good."

The young wizard's silvery eyes gleamed as he clutched the velvet pouch and gazed at the countless glittering tents of the Fair. Draco's other dirty little secret was that, like his mother, he was a compulsive buyer. If the boy saw something he liked or which remotely piqued his interest, he had to have it, or he would throw a fit that would put a banshee itself to shame.

Orion knew that his money pouch would lose significant weight by the end of the night and that Draco would be buying 'presents' for himself as well, undoubtedly. The young pureblood would probably buy the whole Fair if he had the galleons for it. Thankfully, he hadn't given the boy a bottomless pouch linked to his vaults in Gringotts.

Draco was gone in the next bat of the eyelash, and Orion, during the next few hours, just caught brief sightings of a platinum head bobbing and peeking here and there from amidst the crowd.

Meanwhile, Orion just strolled about, halting at some of the tents, eyeing their merchandise and asking about the spells used when interested, or just striking up a casual conversation with the vendor about his hobby and art, if the vampire wasn't busy with some customer.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Draco rushed to his side, loaded with shrunk parcels and with an utterly self-satisfied and content expression on his face.

"Open it - open it now!" said Draco eagerly, pushing a package into Orion's chest as he struggled with his numerous carrying bags.

Orion grabbed it before it dropped to the floor, and shot him an amused glance. "If it's my present, shouldn't I wait for tomorrow? You know, for my actual birthday?"

Draco scoffed and instantly whipped out his wand, casting a tempus charm. Three seconds later, when the golden numbers ticked from 23:59 to 24:01, the young wizard shot him a smug smirk. "Happy birthday, Potter, welcome to adulthood – took you long enough, shrimp. Now open it!"

"I'm not a 'shrimp', I'm as tall as you are," snapped Orion crisply, shooting him an irked glare since the young wizard had always, for as long as he remembered, taunted him about his height or about his age, when Draco was only a couple of months older than him, though the boy never let him forget who was the oldest or who had had their growth spurts sooner.

"For now," drawled Draco, smugly smirking at him. "Malfoys have always been taller than Blacks. You'll see."

"Then it's a good thing that I have Potter and Grindelwald blood too, isn't it?" countered Orion with a pointed smirk of his own.

Draco merely scoffed disdainfully and then imperiously commanded, "Open the bloody thing, Potter, and stop wasting my valuable time or I'll just keep it for myself."

Orion snorted but quickly did as asked, his curiosity piqued. He soon found out what his present was: a pair of twin daggers, with mounted gems. There were beautiful, made of wrought silver, their handles smooth without many adornments, so that they could be grasped and wielded easily, and their blades curvy like the tail of a slithering viper.

"If you press this," said Draco excitedly, dropping his cool façade as he pointed at the round ruby just above the handle of one of the daggers, "then their blades will blaze with fire. And if you press the emerald, they will be imbued with poison that will slow down your enemy. It affects the muscles and nervous system through any wound made by the blade."

Orion gazed at the daggers in his hands with wide eyes, caressing them appreciatively as a large smile spread on his face. "Sounds great, Draco. Thanks." He then shot him a glance and muttered under his breath, "I will not ask how much they've cost."

Draco smirked at him, and drawled coolly, "All good things are expensive, Potter. Let's just say I'm glad I bought them with your galleons and not mine."

"You didn't wait, Draco – I told you to wait for me before you gave him your present!"

With raised eyebrows, Orion turned around to see a peeved Calypso reaching them and shooting Draco a very dark glower.

"You're a foul git, Draco," she snapped crossly, before she widely smiled at Orion, pushing a package into his arms. "This is my present for you. It's for the daggers."

"You shouldn't have bought me anything, Scaly-"

"I'm not a complete pauper, you know?" said Calypso, turning pink to the tip of her ears, before she huffed indignantly. "I can afford to buy a coming of age present for my best friend."

Orion nodded, letting the issue drop, and then widely grinned at her when he unraveled two dragonhide scabbards made in the exact measure for the daggers, with loops to be tied to a belt. He instantly sheathed the daggers in them, and then linked them to his own belt, gazing down and admiring them.

"It's perfect, Scaly," he said warmly, widely smiling as he kissed her on the cheek in gratitude. "I'll be sure to carry them to battle."

"What, I get no kiss and she does?" quipped Draco, looking miffed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You shag him on a daily basis," remarked Calypso caustically, rolling her eyes. "What else do you want?"

Draco shot her a smirk and mockingly pouted out his lips. "A smooch from little kitten."

"Don't call him that," snapped Calypso, scowling at the boy, "you know Orion doesn't like it-"

Orion loudly cleared his throat, holding up a hand to stop them from launching full verbal assaults at each other. He had forgotten how the two of them loved to bicker with each other. Merlin, they could go on for ages if no one interceded. And he suspected that they secretly enjoyed very much to ruffle each other's feathers.

"I thank you both for the presents, they are fantastic," said Orion with a smile, before he frowned and searchingly glanced at the crowd milling about the Fair. "But have either of you seen Lezander?"

"Actually – no," said Calypso with puzzlement, while she also scanned the vampires coming and going from tents.

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes as he drawled impassively, "He's at the Vampire Council meeting."

Orion's head snapped around to stare at him. "That was today? How do you know?"

"Because I saw them when I was on my way to meet you here, Potter."

"You saw who, exactly?" piped in Calypso, gazing at Draco with interest.

"Zraven and his parents, of course," drawled Draco coolly, brushing imaginary lint from his robes, "and Cyprian was also with them, accompanying a bunch of other vampires into one of the meeting rooms at one side of the Throne Hall."

"And?" said Calypso impatiently, shooting him an irritated scowl.

Draco arched an eyebrow, tauntingly smirking at her. "And what, Rosier?"

"For Merlin's sake, Draco," snapped Orion shortly, "we want to know what the vampires looked like! So spill and stop milking it for all it's worth."

Draco loudly sighed, as if he was being pestered by bothersome lower beings. "I haven't much to tell, Potter." He shot him a sneer. "I wasn't introduced to them, you see. I only saw them from afar. There were five, without counting the Zravens and the retinues. Two male vampires in expensive muggle suits, two others wearing robes, and there was a female vampire who looked to be Egyptian or from those parts." He snidely scoffed. "And all five looked as if they thought they were above everyone else."

The young wizard paused and then shot Orion a jeering smirk. "And all five had retinues consisting of catamites or concubines - blood servants, I would say, or just fuck toys. How do you think they'll classify you, eh, Potter? As Zraven's catamite or-"

"As his bonded lifemate," interjected Calypso sharply, glaring at the young wizard. She mockingly arched an eyebrow at him. "And that leaves you to be what, do you think?"

"An unwilling pureblood amongst halfbreeds," hissed out Draco, his silvery eyes narrowing to slits.

Calypso let out a caustic bout of laughter. "Oh, please! Pretend as much as you like, but you've come to love it here, Draco. I'm the one who's being held against her will, not you-"

"Both of you, just shut up!" snapped Orion with annoyed exasperation. "Let's just try to have a pleasant night, shall we?" He shot them stern glowers. "It's my bloody birthday, you could make an effort to be nice to each other for one day, couldn't you?" He pointedly glanced at Draco. "And to me as well, regardless of grudges."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, sniffing disdainfully. "Fine, Potter." A pinched expression spread over his face as he pushed out unfamiliar words from his lips, "I apologize."

Calypso, for her part, shot Orion a contrite look before she brightly smiled and grabbed the hands of both young wizards, as she chirped enthusiastically, "Let's go to the Throne Hall, to catch a glimpse of them when they leave. Perhaps Lezander or Mireilla will tell you what was discussed during the Council meeting, Orion. It must be important."

"I doubt I'll be told," muttered Orion as he was pulled along. "Draco has better chances at that."

Suddenly, he gasped and halted, automatically jerking his hand away from Calypso's grasp as he felt one of his fingers burning.

Both she and Draco turned around to stare at him, the first with worry and the second with an impatient and miffed scowl.

"What is it, Potter?" said Draco, then frowning when he saw Orion's expression. "You look-"

"Voldemort-"

And that was the only word Orion had time to gasp out before his Black Heir ring was triggered and he was portkeyed away.

* * *

"You mean the Grail, the so-called Holy Grail?" Orion blinked at him, utterly perplexed, his mind spinning. "So you were him, Jesus of Nazareth?"

"Oh no, I was his best friend. A light wizard like him." Arian dazzlingly smiled at him, his cerulean eyes gleaming. "I was Judas."

Orion stared at him, not quite knowing what to make of things. And to think that just the previous day everything had gone so well, and now he found himself in the midst of Bill Weasleys' and Fleur Delacour's wedding celebration, in what was undoubtedly an attack gone awry, given his current situation.


	40. L&L, the Marking & the Betrayer's story

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Orion's attitude during the demonstration with the Mayan Stone isn't because he's naïve or wants to protect all possible 'innocents'. Even though he's a dark wizard through and through and has seen many 'horrible' things during Death Eater meetings along the years, he still doesn't like mindless torture. No matter how much he changed through the years under the influence of Voldemort and dark wizards, Orion still has some of his scruples and principles. He kills and tortures when he feels it's required, but not just for the fun or for the enjoyment of it. That, and his worry for Snape, were the reasons why he attempted to intercede and why what happened was so distasteful to him. But as you saw, in the end, he did accept the Mayan Stone as a tool to be used. He can be ruthless when required.

About his reaction to the marriage contract, what Morticia wants and to Sirius having slept with the witch, it wasn't because such things were unheard of to him or because he was taking a moral high ground or due to naiveté or anything like that, but because he wanted to protect his father. Evidently, if Sirius had shagged any other witch except Morticia, Orion wouldn't have said a word about it. But he saw it as part of Morticia's plan to use his father, so of course he wasn't happy about it.

As for Orion's future-seeing abilities, it's not a power like Arian's in the way that he can use it. They come as visions in his dreams, something unconscious and uncontrollable. Arian, on the other hand, can clearly direct his post-cognitry ability however he likes. But we have to keep in mind that he's already the Vindico Lumen, so his control over his powers must have much to do with it. Thus, it can be inferred that many things will change for Orion, regarding his powers, if and once he becomes the VA.

As for knowing about past lives, you must remember that no one does. Orion was an exception during the week after his confrontation with the Dementor, because Cadmus Peverell did something to him, unlocked something in Orion's soul, which made him start having memories about some of his past lives. But it only went on during one week, since Vulcan Vagnarok used his Necromantic powers to built a 'block' in Orion's mind to halt the influx of memories.

Certainly, if Orion destroyed this block, then he would start remembering again and about all the other past lives he didn't have time to remember during that week. But he doesn't want this to happen since it was confusing and painful enough when it happened during a week, imagine what it would be if it happened endlessly. He fears losing his own current identity under the onslaught of memories of all his past lives, so he isn't taking the easy way out of destroying the block just to know who he was in his first live.

Arian does know about all his own past lives and is certainly affected by it. Orion once remarked that the light wizard seemed to be somewhat unstable sometimes, due to it. But Orion doesn't know why or how Arian remembers his soul's past lives. Such things are not supposed to happen. And of course, in Arian's case, it would not be due to a Dementor doing what Cadmus did to Orion.

* * *

A super quick new chapter, cookies for me, yay! *grins*

And it's finally now that we'll start seeing Orion in action and thus what he can do after Gellert's lessons and his increased powers.

This chapter will begin covering the gap that was left in the previous one, and then continue from there on, as was mentioned in last chappie's AN.

A reviewer of a couple of chapters back was right about one of Arian's past lives. Cheers for you!

**Hope you like it, enjoy it, and review to let me know how you think it's going so far! *winks***

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**Chapter 40**

Orion had been portkeyed to Voldemort's side to receive his coming of age present. Such 'gift' had been –he should have known- to have bestowed upon himself the Dark Lord's good graces and charms. Meaning, to be shagged into the mattress.

Not that he had complained in the end. He had vastly enjoyed himself. Though, he would make certain that he would spend that night with Lezander and Draco, for the three of them to also celebrate his birthday in that way as well. After all, it could be the last night of peace they would have for a while, given that the attacks were going to take place the following day.

At present, on the morning of his birthday, he was chuckling under his breath, splayed on Voldemort's bed, only wearing a towel around his waist after he had taken a bath, lying on his stomach and with his feet up in the air, as he turned the pages of the Daily Prophet.

Orion shot the wizard a glance as he sniggered. Voldemort was by his side, leaning against the bed's headboard, eyeing him with crimson eyes which held veiled curiosity.

"Rita Skeeter has finally published her book," said Orion as a mode of explanation, gesturing at the article in the Daily Prophet. He shot the wizard a wide, devilish grin. "Its contents have caused quite an uproar among the light wizarding community. Scrimgeour is proclaiming that Dumbledore's intimate association with Grindelwald is a mere falsehood concocted by an attention-seeking journalist, while the rest of light wizards don't truly know what to think of their supposedly deceased and still hailed Albus Dumbledore."

Voldemort simply scoffed snidely, now looking utterly uninterested in the matter.

"It will work to our benefit, you know?" said Orion cheerfully, as he jumped out of the bed and summoned his clothes with a flick of his wrist. "When Dumbledore finally decides to appear in public and let everyone know that he still lives, light wizards will have lost some faith in him."

"_Where do you think you're going?"_ hissed Voldemort impassively, observing how Orion finished dressing as he buckled his daggers-carrying belt.

"Why, Tom, you didn't truly think that I was going to spend my whole birth day with you, did you?" Orion shot him a superior smirk as he fixed his hair to some modicum of order. "I have people to see and places to go, Tommy boy."

"_Such as?"_ hissed Voldemort sharply, gazing at him with suspicious, narrowed crimson eyes.

Orion's smirk widened. "I'm marking my Elite today."

"_You have no mark,"_ hissed Voldemort dismissively, relaxedly leaning back.

"Oh, but I do, and it's very cool," quipped Orion, shooting the wizard a poignant smile over his shoulder, as he tucked his wands under his sleeves, into their wand-holsters. "I call it the Black mark. Not that you'll ever see it. It has this nifty, wonderful property that only allows it to be seen by myself and those who have it. You might start thinking of modifying your own brand to make it like that, too."

Voldemort sat up straight on the bed, all mocking snide having cleared from his expression, as he hissed caustically with piercing, narrowed eyes, _"Have you already marked someone with it?"_

"Not yet," said Orion, the lie smoothly rolling from his lips as he thought about Draco. He shot him a sharp grin. "But I think it's only fair to let you know that I'll be marking my father with it. So expect to be losing a Death Eater."

A thunderous expression spread on Voldemort's darkly handsome face. _"You will do no such thing-"_

"Gotta go, Tom," interrupted Orion, buttoning the last of his robes' buttons. "You've always known that I would someday free my dad from your clutches. And I don't have the time to stay here and argue about it."

He paused to only shoot him a smug smirk. "I'm first dropping into Berlin, you see. I have an inheritance to claim, now that I'm finally seventeen." He loftily waved a hand at him. "See you tomorrow at the English Ministry of Magic!"

And with that, he dissapparated away before the wizard had a chance to crawl out of bed to stop him. For once, it was Orion who had left the wizard exhausted after their nightplay. Much had to do with the surreptitious bites that Orion had given Voldemort in the midst of cresting, mindless pleasure. He hadn't been able to help himself and the taste of the wizard's powerful dark blood had been just so exquisite, re-energizing and empowering. He had no doubt that Voldemort would figure out the reason for his strange tiredness the moment he took a peek at a mirror. But really, the wizard was simply very temptingly tasty, it was the man's own fault.

* * *

Orion gazed up at the painting on the ceiling, a smile on his lips, and then frowning worriedly when he glanced again at who else was depicted in it after he had unveiled it.

"Oh, Luna, what have you gotten yourself into?" he muttered under his breath, as he slowly carded his fingers through his hair.

It was now past noon, though he was very satisfied with everything he had been able to accomplish so far.

As he had told Voldemort, the first thing he had done was to apparate into muggle Berlin. He had only been able to do so because Sirius had once taken him there for a few days, years ago during a summer holiday. During the few holidays they had spent together before Sirius had been captured and sent to Azkaban again, the wizard had taken upon himself to show Orion some of the beauty in the muggle world.

He had to admit now, that he rather liked muggle Berlin. It was quite cosmopolitan nowadays and a sort of capital for culture, especially for youths. It was dynamic but not to the point of having lost its charm. And it was interesting to see, still, the differences between the west and east side of the city.

Though Orion had spent about an hour just walking around and enjoying the sights - as a kind of birthday present to himself- with his clothes transfigured into jeans and T-shirt, he had had to cut short his explorations in order to find the entrance to the wizarding area of the German capital.

He had only once heard from Gellert that the way into it was through a shop called 'Bayern Delikatessen', near where once the Wall had stood. Thankfully, it seemed that the little store which sold Bavarian goods, especially food and drinks like white sausages and beers, was well known around the area. So Orion hadn't lost too much time in finding it.

It had taken one glance at the storekeeper to know that the man was really a wizard. And after giving him a false name and transfiguring his clothes back to his wizarding attire, the old man had led Orion into the back of the store where an archway had materialized from one of the empty shelves.

He had gone through it and soon found himself in the middle of a wizarding commercial area. It was nothing like Diagon Alley of wizarding London. It held many intertwining streets, buoyant with activity, and there was no fear showing in the German wizards' and witches' faces, no looks of wary suspicion or stressed tension.

It was understandable given that they weren't in the middle of a war, since wizarding Germany, as all other European countries, had officially taken a neutral stance in the happenings in England. However, Orion thought that he would have caused quite a havoc if he hadn't glamoured his face into that of a non-descript young wizard.

Nowadays, his face was well-known and he didn't doubt that German Aurors would be pouncing on him if they suspected he could be in their midst, even if their Ministry was Dark-oriented. He was still considered to be the murderer of Albus Dumbledore, so until countries like Germany sided with the English dark wizards when they saw that Britain fell to their control, he would still be hunted down.

Nevertheless, everything had gone relatively smoothly with the Goblins of Gringott's German branch. He had asked to see one of the goblins in private and only then, in a secluded office, had he cancelled the glamour on his features and stated what his business with them was.

Obviously, he was required to give them a drop of his blood to be tested, to support his claims. And after much grumbling from the goblin, he had been acknowledged as a Grindelwald and thus the last and only heir of the line.

When he had been given the key and taken into the depths of Gringotts to see the vault, Orion's eyebrows had shot upwards in puzzlement due to its contents. The Grindelwald vault contained a fortune much larger than that of the Black's, but apart from mountains of glittering golden galleons, it held nothing else – no magical artifacts, no heirlooms of any kind.

He had realized why when he had gone back to the goblin's office and had been given a report about the Grindelwald fortune and estates – of the latter, there was no longer any.

In 1940, Gellert had sold the Grindelwald estate at the outskirts of Berlin, apparently to have the funds to finance the construction of Nurmengard and also the war he launched. In 1945, just two months before Gellert was 'defeated' by Albus in their legendary duel, the wizard had also sold the rest of the Grindelwald properties – a castle in the Austrian Alps, a smaller one in the midst of Bavarian woods, and one other in Switzerland. This explained the current heaps of galleons in the vault.

It also indicated that Gellert had known what was coming. And it had been a very wise move from his part, the goblin had explained to Orion, since once Gellert had been locked up in Nurmengard, the German Ministry of Magic -having already taken possession of the Tower- had also wanted to get their clutches on all the other Grindelwald estates. They had been very angered when the Goblins had informed them that there was none to be had.

Under German law, the Ministry of Magic had the right to take and sell the properties of Grindelwald to use the funds to reconstruct that which Gellert had destroyed in his war and to compensate the wizarding families of the dead, but they couldn't touch the Grindelwald fortune since it was kept by the Goblins.

It seemed that Gellert had used this loophole, quickly selling all properties he had left and funneling the proceeds into his vault, where it would be untouchable. From the Ministry, that was, because the Goblins had certainly been using it all the while to make investments with it, fattening their pockets and making the 'gold flow', as they said.

It didn't surprise Orion, since the Goblins had done the same with the Black fortune when Sirius had been in Azkaban, the first time. It wasn't out of the belief that a Grindelwald heir would pop up after Gellert had been imprisoned that the Goblins had faithfully kept the vault and fortune secure. Orion knew that he had dashed their hopes by claiming it, since if five centuries went by with no one to claim a vault giving valid proof of descendancy, it would then go to the Goblins.

Now, he had claimed it back, the whole fortune and accumulated interests, as once his own father had done with the Black vaults. But it wasn't the fortune itself, though very grand, which interested Orion. It was the lack of heirlooms in the vault.

He had known, at once, what it meant. Gellert had sold all properties and thus must have retrieved all heirlooms and magical artifacts that the Grindelwald line must have accumulated throughout the centuries. And there was only one place which Gellert had kept as his own, before it was taken by the German Ministry: Nurmengard, once Gellert's headquarters and also prison for his rivals and political enemies.

Orion had twitched on his seat as that realization struck him, knowing that there was much more to Nurmengard than he had ever suspected. When he had broken into it with his Elite, to rescue Gellert before Voldemort made an appearance, he certainly hadn't had the time to explore the Tower with all the guards and manticores milling about.

However, there was no doubt in his mind, now, that the place held many secrets. At least, hidden tunnels and rooms, undoubtedly heavily warded, probably with blood-spells so that only a Grindelwald could find them. And in them, they must be holding anything Gellert had considered valuable or precious to him – heirlooms, magical artifacts, books perhaps, and Merlin knew what else.

The old wizard had certainly never broached the subject with him, but the man had to have known that he would someday claim the Grindelwald inheritance and thus realize that there were secrets to be explored in Nurmengard.

Orion would certainly do so, but not in the immediate future, he surmised. Someday, after the wars, when he had the time for it. Perhaps he wouldn't even need to break in again. Maybe, he would by then be able to present his case in a wizarding court of law to claim back Nurmengard Tower as a Grindelwald property.

Therefore, all in all, he had left Berlin feeling very satisfied, and with a new vault key in his pocket.

After that, he had apparated to Lycaon. He was no fool. Orion had felt it was only proper of him to warn Voldemort that Sirius would no longer be sporting the Dark mark, but he wasn't going to wait for the wizard to do something to prevent it. Thus, he had gone with the intention of finally marking his father with the Black brand, therefore ridding him from the Dark mark, as he had once done to an unconscious Draco.

Orion had done so, and his father had seemed grateful to be released from being a Death Eater, but not before he had witnessed the heavy undercurrents breezing through Lycaon.

Apparently, his father had instantly apparated to Lycaon after Orion had informed him of the current events regarding Remus and Greyback. And Sirius had stayed in the werewolf community during the night and for the following day.

Orion didn't have to ask what his father had been up to during that time, since he could see the evidence of it in Remus' frazzled and exasperated expression. The werewolf Alpha hadn't been too happy with him. But Orion had merely chuckled when Remus had pulled him to a side to express that he didn't appreciate that Orion had sic Sirius on him without giving him time to explain matters to his best friend.

Yet, Orion had felt no remorse. He thought that it was best that his father knew about it sooner rather than later, since Sirius would only be angered all the more if not. And he still found the situation amusing.

He hadn't even felt at all concerned by the signs of the fight that had taken place between Sirius and Greyback. His father was sporting a limp now and had three claw gashes on his cheek. On the other hand, part of Greyback's silvery long hair was scorched, and the man had a black eye and split lip. So it was evident that his father could hold his own.

And to Orion's further amusement, he had seen Greyback growling at his father and possessively pulling Remus close to him every chance he found, snarling and narrowing his yellow eyes at Sirius with promised vindictive retribution.

After he had marked his father, Orion had left them like that, chuckling under his breath as Remus tried to appease his mate and attempted to mollify the situation with his friend – given that Sirius was just as possessive over Remus as Greyback was, no matter the different nature of their feelings for him.

Not long after, Orion had settled matters for the Marking Ceremony that he was going to hold that very same day. For that, he had gone to Calypso's quarters in Zraven Citadel and had dressed up in the attire she had long ago prepared for him for the event. Moreover, an eager and rambling Calypso had made him review her notes regarding how the ceremony had to proceed, since she had planned it in detail for him a while ago.

Lezander had granted her permission to go to Potter Manor and had momentarily lowered the wards to allow her to apparate there, dragging a scowling and complaining Draco, since Calypso was making him help her with the preparations. Though, Cyprian had also gone with them, to make sure that the young witch would return to Zraven Citadel once the Ceremony was over. Calypso had huffed and shot an indignant glare at Lezander for that, but she had nevertheless left the Citadel with much excitement.

Thus, Orion had left such matters in Calypso's capable hands and had at last left Potter Manor, disillusioned and flying over Wiltshire on his Firebolt, to seek the one other person besides his Elite who he planned on marking.

Flying at great speed and thoroughly enjoying the experience, it hadn't taken him long to reach Ottery St. Catchpole and the Burrow. And from there, he had quickly caught sight of the Lovegood's house which was nearby. It was a strange-looking house which rose vertically, a great black cylinder against the afternoon sky, like a giant chess rook on top of a hill.

Once he had ascertained that no one was inside, he had shrunk his Firebolt and broken in, to await Luna. He had indolently inspected the very peculiar, cluttered house, going from the circular kitchen which had made him feel as if he was inside a giant pepper pot, up to the higher levels by taking a wrought-iron spiral staircase.

He had soon reached the girl's bedroom and had at once seen what Luna had painted, with great skill, on her ceiling. It had made him fondly smile, since it depicted Luna and him, with one of his arms around her shoulders, in a friendly way. But then he had suddenly frowned when he had felt the tingling of nearby magic, and he had soon whipped out his wand and cancelled the charm that had been cast at the blank side of the Luna of the painting.

It had unraveled before his eyes: a Loki standing at Luna's other side, with a completely uncharacteristically tender smile on his gaunt face and with his fingers intertwined with Luna's in a holding of hands.

Suddenly, he heard voices coming from below, and Orion quickly cast the charm to conceal the Loki of the ceiling, and then noiselessly and surreptitiously made his way downstairs.

"My father will be back home in two hours. We have until then, if you want to hang around."

"I… I wouldn't mind, if that's alright with you. So… are you liking it so far?"

Orion instantly recognized the voices and he carefully peeked around a corner to see into the living room. He inwardly sighed when he saw Loki and Luna taking a seat on a couch, quite close together and solely focused on each other.

"Oh yes! I'm learning many things," said Luna, happily smiling with a dreamy expression on her face. "Necro Master Vresi thinks I'll soon be prepared to do my first summon – that of my mother's spirit. I've always felt her by my side since she died, so I know it will be like talking to her as if we had never parted."

Loki looked visibly awkward and uncomfortable as he uneasily gazed back at her. "Necro Master Vresi has indeed taken an interest in you. She once said that you're very strange and peculiar for a girl with the Necromantic ability but that she thinks you'll make a good one."

"Oh… well…" Luna shrugged, playing with her radish earrings. "Everyone thinks I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people at Hogwarts call me 'Loony' Lovegood, actually. "

Loki cleared his throat, his sunken pale cheeks suddenly having a pink tint to them. "I don't think you're odd. But I mentioned Necro Master Vresi because... er, well, you haven't told her or anyone else in the Guild, have you?"

Luna blinked at him. "About us?"

"Yes," said Loki in a low murmur, looking chagrined and distinctly contrite. "Not that I like to keep it a secret, Luna, but you know how it is in the Guild. We're not supposed to fraternize with each other. We're not supposed to feel or want anything like that at all."

He gazed at her awkwardly and added very quietly, "I never expected to... um, like someone the way I like you. After I became full-fledged I didn't feel those sorts of things… you know? Emotions numbed… But it changed when I met you."

Luna smiled at him, patting his knee. "I like you too, Loki."

An expression of mild frustration swept over Loki's face. "I don't think you understand what I'm trying to say-"

"No one can know. Got it," said Luna cheerfully, nodding and making her radish earrings bob up and down.

"It's more than that." Loki shook his head with exasperation, rubbing his jawline. He abruptly took hold of her hands, and bore his black eyes into her prominent bluish ones, as he said a bit flustered, "Besides keeping it a secret from the Guild, I would like for us to be still… um, close… but maybe you'll have a change of heart." He searchingly gazed at her. "You aren't experiencing the full effects of your Necromantic training yet, because it's too early. But the closer you become to being full-fledged, the more you'll change-"

"I don't think I will," said Luna simply, dreamily gazing into vacant air. A sound came from Loki's throat and she glanced back at him, her expression suddenly turning serious as she said with unsuspected certainty, "Not to the point of being like Necro Master Vresi and all the others." She then shrugged unconcernedly. "And you're not like them either-"

"Only when I'm around you," clarified Loki, frowning at himself as if he didn't fully understand the reason for the way he was affected by the girl.

Luna brightly smiled at him. "Then the same will happen to me." She waved a hand dismissively and dreamily gazed at vacant space. "I don't think we should worry. I think we should just have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up. It always does in the end."

"Alright," said Loki quietly, and it was then evident to Orion that the young Necromancer already knew her well enough to decipher the true meaning behind Luna's odd comments.

As they settled into a comfortable and companionable silence, with Loki inching closer to her, Orion decided to make his presence known.

"Hello there," he said nonchalantly, as he stepped into the room.

Instantly, Loki jumped to his feet, turning beet red before he squared his bony shoulders and darkly scowled at him, as he spat, "What are you doing here, Black?"

"Oh, Orion!" cried Luna joyfully, soon reaching him to grasp him in a tight embrace. "I knew you would come to see me soon." She peered up at him with her large, dreamy eyes. "Do you like my home? Let me show you around. You must see the Snargaluff, it's very interesting-"

"I would love to, but I don't have much time," interjected Orion quickly, then glancing at Loki. "I overheard your conversation, admittedly. I know that you two are a-"

"A couple," stated Luna solemnly nodding at him, before her usual dreamy expression returned to her face. "I never expected to truly fancy anyone or for someone to fancy me. Isn't it wonderful?"

Orion uneasily gazed down at her, not truly knowing what to respond to that. "Er, um-"

"Do you have something to say, Black?" bit out Loki, forbiddingly narrowing his all-black eyes at him as he defensively crossed his arms over his chest.

Orion glanced at the young Necromancer, and then sighed as he carded his fingers through his hair. "Not really, no. It's your business."

"Got that right, Black," said Loki sharply, slightly relaxing his stance.

Orion shot him a mildly irritated look before he glanced back at Luna, sincerely smiling. "I'm happy for you, if you are, Luna."

"I am," she said simply, before she frowned as she swatted something invisible away from her head.

Orion eyed her with fond amusement but then glanced at Loki when the young Necromancer clicked his tongue, spearing him with a piercing, narrowed black gaze. "What do you want, Black?"

"Nothing from you, Njord," said Orion coolly. "I came to invite Luna to the Elite's Marking Ceremony." He then looked at the girl. "Actually, I came to ask if you would like to take my mark as well."

"Oh, of course-"

"You're not getting her involved in the war," snarled Loki, instantly having moved to be between Orion and Luna, his stance protective.

Orion shook his head, feeling a frisson of concern for Luna. Merlin, Loki was truly in love with her. They would get in serious trouble with the Guild for that. Yet, it was their own business and he had no right to stick his nose into their affairs, or desire, really – he had enough problems of his own.

He levelly gazed back at Loki, and said calmly, "I won't ask her to fight in battles, Njord. And it's her own decision to make whether she wants my mark or not-"

"As one of your followers?" bit out Loki caustically. " One more to revere you, for you to use, control and manipulate-"

"As a friend," piped in Luna, dreamily gazing at them. "It's all the same to me. Orion is my friend so I'll be his follower." She brightly smiled at Orion, nodding in understanding. "It will be as we once discussed at Hogwarts. I'm going back for my sixth year and you'll need a friend there. So I accept."

"Luna-"

"I know what I'm doing, Loki," said the girl, while she resumed swatting her hands around her head as if invisible nargles were bothering her. "Friends should always stick together and he's my only one. And Orion has always been good to me. I know he greatly cares about me and he has always stood up for me, so I'll also always stand by his side."

Loki shot her a partly frustrated and concerned glance, and partly tender. He then heavily sighed, and muttered quietly, "Fine. I won't influence your decisions. I have no right-"

"Not until we secretly marry someday," said Luna happily.

Loki's gaunt and pale face turned pink, then he immediately rounded on Orion with narrowed eyes, as if expecting some sort of assault or sharp comment.

Orion's eyebrows shot upwards and he quickly held up his palms. "I'm not saying anything, Njord. My lips are sealed."

"Better keep it that way, Black," snapped Loki curtly, a dark and stern scowl on his face.

"Should we get going?" said Luna cheerfully, no longer waving her arms around, apparently having triumphantly vanquished the creatures which had been pestering her.

"Yes, the Elite are already waiting at Potter Manor. I'll apparate us."

"Splendid," said Luna simply, taking hold of the forearm Orion offered to her, while she then waved a hand at Loki, smiling at the boy. "I'll see you tomorrow morning when my dad leaves for work."

Orion merely waited for the young Necromancer to nod and shoot Luna a last tender smile, and then plunged them into an apparition.

* * *

"They're calling you 'the pleasure-giver'," said Calypso with wry amusement, precisely in the exact moment in which Orion calmly took a sip of his tea.

His tea came spitting out of his mouth, and Orion spluttered, "What?!"

He scowled down at his drenched robes, and then shot her a dark glare. "You waited just for the precise timing, didn't you?"

"Perhaps," said Calypso, cheekily grinning at him. "You'll never know."

Irritated, Orion flicked his wand, cleaning the tea stains from his robes, and demanded miffed, "What's this rubbish about pleasure-giver?"

"That's what they're calling you," said Calypso loftily, her eyes gleaming. "Honestly, what did you expect when you flooded them with pleasure through the mark right after you branded them?"

"It seemed only fair since being marked is very painful, given that a brand links itself to a person's magical core," interjected Orion flatly, refilling his tea cup with a pot from one of the tables at Potter Manor's large main parlor where the Marking Ceremony had taken place.

He glanced around the room. Calypso had decorated it very handsomely, with drapes displaying Black and Slytherin colors: forest greens, blacks, and silvery grays. Moreover, he himself, with his attire, represented his own bloodlines. The young witch had some time ago modified one of the formal pureblood robes that Narcissa had once bought for him.

It was dark green. "To make your eyes stand out – Slytherin eyes, and they will be remained of that," Calypso had informed him. As if it wasn't enough, the witch had also used a weaving spell to emblazon with silver thread, on the right chest of the robes, the Black, Grindelwald, and Potter crests, in a row.

Besides that, she had also made him wear the crimson sash with the Zraven coat of arms, which he had used for his marital bonding ceremony with Voldemort. "To remind them," she had said, "that you have a whole powerful vampire Clan backing you."

If it had been in her power, she would have made him wear the Slytherin wedding ring, as a representation of his alliance with the Dark Lord. But Orion had returned that to Voldemort, along with the replica of the Gaunt ring, a while ago. And he had put his foot down at Calypso's insistence that he should go to the Guild to ask for the real Gaunt ring, to wear the Resurrection Stone as a display of his Necromancy ability and representation of his Peverell blood.

Nevertheless, he had conducted the ceremony with all-black eyes, imbued in his Necromantic powers, as per Calypso's suggestion. And it had done the trick, since the Elite had been even more in awe of him at that reminder.

Not that they had needed much more to gaze at him with utter fascination and reverence, since he had disclosed everything about Vindico matters just before starting the Marking Ceremony. He had told them about Morgana's spirit, the crossing of bloodlines, how he was a thrice Peverell through his own bloodlines, thus about Grindelwald and about him being Mordred, about the Lady of the Lake, the Hallows, Avalon, what he knew about Arian, and even about the horcruxes and that he was one himself.

It had been full disclosure of everything related to himself and the Vindico issue. And it had been, funnily enough, Luna who had first spoken, calmly gazing at the Elite as if she didn't understand why everyone was so speechless, clearly easily comprehending and accepting what Orion had told them, as if it were a quirky and interesting tale, "It makes sense to me."

Then the girl had simply gone back to dreamily stare into space, starting to vehemently swat nonexistent things with her hands.

Her words had seemed to shake everyone out of their stupor and countless questions had been fired, not only at him and Calypso – who they realized had known about everything all along- but also at Titania, since she had revealed to them that she was an Aux Atrum.

Viktor hadn't looked very happy at knowing that his girlfriend had been keeping things from him. But he had been the only one who didn't look pleased, since everyone else, Kara and Evander included, had appeared to be both flummoxed but also fervently excited, gazing at him wide-eyed, breathlessly murmuring "Mordred" ardently and feverishly devoutly, as if it was both a plea and a hailing exaltation.

When they murmured it, a tingling sensation had crawled down Orion's spine, the small hairs of the back of his neck rising, as the tone in which they said it echoed and resounded in his mind, so like in the vision when he saw and heard fighters chanting "Vindico" zealously.

Yet, he had asked them not to call him "Vindico" or "Mordred" in public, only when they were together and alone, if they must. But he knew they would anyway, the moment it was safe for them to do so, when it could be disclosed to dark wizarding kind. He knew, because he saw it constantly in his vision-dreams. And the realization had struck him that it was right then and there where it started. Those wheels had been put in motion.

Despite that, Orion hadn't been worried about having revealed everything to them, since during the Ceremony when he had marked each one and they had magically pledged their loyalty to him, he had also cast a parsel mind web on them, so that they could never, unwittingly or not, spill any of his secrets unless given permission.

With some amusement, Orion had thought to himself that he had quite a network of people under such spell, since his father, Severus, and Remus were also included. And so were now Draco, Titania, and Calypso.

He had never planned on marking neither of the girls, and he hadn't, since he wanted Titania to keep her Aux mark and remain as his 'liaison' with that group until he became the VA and thus rightfully had them as his followers as well. But Titania had lined up when the last of the Elite had been marked, telling him that it was only right that he cast the spell on her as well. And Calypso had followed right behind, and it had made Orion feel an immense and deep surge of appreciation and fondest for her, since he had never asked her for something like it.

Then, of course, he had swiftly cast it on Draco, taking him by surprise before the boy could do anything to prevent it. Needless to say that the young pureblood hadn't been at all happy with him. Throughout the whole Ceremony, Draco had been the only one standing by his side as the Elite came and knelt in front of Orion with their left arms exposed, to be marked and pledge their loyalty. And the young wizard had vastly enjoyed his exalted and unique position, with an arrogant expression on his face and a smug smirk.

Draco's place beside Orion had been Calypso's idea, since Draco had been the first to be marked, and she had conspiratorially whispered to him, "And by the rate he's going, I think it very likely that you can have him as one of your right-hands in the future, Orion. My father told me that he has the makings of it in him."

At present, everyone was enjoying the refreshments that Daisy had brought in, excitedly chatting and still shooting Orion glances, with wide smiles, gleaming eyes, and with very satisfied, content, and reverently fascinated expressions on their faces.

Luna was the only one who had already left since she had wanted to get back to her home before her father got there.

The girl had dreamily gazed at the silver mark on her branded left arm, as she distractedly twirled a lock of her long blonde hair with a finger. "It's very pretty. I enjoyed myself, Orion. Thanks for including me." She had then peered at him with a very grave and serious expression on her face. "But you should do something about the nargles in your manor. It's infested, you know?"

It had earned her a fond smile and a tight embrace from him, before she had left.

Orion pulled out of his musings and glanced at Calypso, who was still eyeing him with amusement.

He huffed, squared his shoulders, and said pointedly, "I gave them pleasure because I wanted it to be remembered as a good experience, not a painful one, since following your suggestions I used Sylvanna to bite them as a representation of my Slytherin blood and parseltongue ability, and since I bit them myself as well, as an indication that I'm the Zraven Rege's bonded lifemate and thus have their support. You thought the whole idea of taking some of their blood was very representative of me being their 'master' and how it linked me and all of them together."

Orion paused to shoot her a wry glance and then rolled his eyes. "If I had allowed you to plan for more, I have no doubt that you would have somehow brought the werewolves into it. Perhaps bringing in Connolly or some other werewolf to claw them, as a sign of their alliance to me. Thank Merlin you didn't find an easy way to bring them into it."

"Oh, relax, I won't taunt you again about it," said Calypso, who still looked very smug and satisfied with how the ceremony had proceeded. It was her triumph as well, since she had been the mastermind behind it.

Suddenly, her cheerfully expression vanished to be replaced by a dark one, as she hissed under her breath, "I saw Artemisa with you, I heard what she said. She didn't even wait a second to pounce on you after the marking was over. She did just as I told you she would."

"Did she?" said Orion coolly, calmly taking a sip of his tea.

She shot him the darkest of glares before her whole countenance changed.

"Ohhhh, Lord Blaaaack, one who is Mordred himself needs a proper spouse by his side who does him credit, his very own Queen," simpered Calypso with a mocking, mellifluous whimper, dramatically fluttering her eyelashes at him while she puffed out her lips in an imitation of Artemisa's naturally lush, pouty ones, making noisy, slurping kissing sounds. "I could be that for you, if you give me the chance. It's no wonder that you've never fancied witches given that you've only ever been close to Calypso Rosier. And which hot-blooded and impressive wizard like yourself would feel attraction towards such a plain and unfeminine girl like her? I, on the other hand, can make you experience things that will make you change your mind about witches. Think about it, Lord Blaaack."

The moment she evidently thought she had made her point with her role-playing and verbatim recitation of some of Artemisa's words, her expression turned thunderous with fury, and she hissed out under her breath, "That bint, that little twit, that trollop! I did warn you."

And with a huff at Orion's dignified silence, she whirled around, her robes flapping in the air, and stomped across the room until she reached an unsuspecting Draco, snapping something or other at him and apparently initiating a round of bickers between them to blow off some steam.

Remaining alone, Orion merely shook his head and impassively took another sip of his tea. Those two girls would simply never get along.

It was true that Artemisa had precisely done what Calypso had foretold, but it had hardly surprised him. He knew that Artemisa was a Jezabel Zabini in the making. He had simply found the girl's advances very amusing.

Suddenly, he felt a tingle of magic washing over him, and the next thing he knew, he was feeling as if a warm hand was sliding up his thigh under his pants, while an incorporeal husky voice breathed into his ear, "I'm going to fuck you hard tonight. I'm going to make you scream your lungs out."

Orion almost spewed out his tea again, before he composed himself out of his startlement. In the next second, recognizing the voice, his narrowed gaze scanned the Elite and instantly zeroed in on Draco.

Calypso was still ranting at the boy about something or other, apparently about Artemisa and being purposely overheard, since that young witch was shooting Calypso poisonous glares while she chatted with Alexios, Wenceslas and Hector from the Elite.

Draco, for his part, was obviously ignoring Calypso, since he was smirking at Orion, giving him a mock toast with his goblet of wine and twirling his wand in his other hand, as the young pureblood's lips started to silently move again.

"You looked so fucking good during the ceremony, Potter. I had to restrain myself to not bend you over and shag you right then and there. Tonight I will make the entire Citadel know what I'm doing to you. I'll make you scream my name and shout your moans as you beg me for more," kept whispering Draco's voice breathily into his ear, adding more obscene suggestions, making Orion turn pink while his body seemed to burn and grow hot, as the ghostly hands now crept along the inside of his thighs, about to reach the crucial part of his anatomy.

He gritted his teeth and glared at the smug pureblood across the room, and then muttered under his breath, "Right. He's asking for it."

Leaving his cup of tea behind, Orion struggled to move forward with as much dignity as he could muster, and in a few seconds he had given his swift farewells to the Elite and shot a pointed glanced at Cyprian.

The Zraven Commander, who had spent the whole ceremony inconspicuously standing by a corner, like a sentinel on guard, had caught his drift and instantly took hold of a startled Calypso, who only had time to yelp in surprise before the vampire took her away.

In those same seconds, Orion grabbed Draco's arm, shot him a devilish smirk as he whispered, "We will see who will fuck the other raw, Drakey," and instantly apparated them into his bedroom in Zraven Citadel.

* * *

They were enveloped by the large bubble of invisibility which Orion had instantly cast over them the moment they had all apparated near the Burrow. He and his Elite -except Draco and Calypso who had stayed in Zraven Citadel, the latter moodily grumbling under her breath about the unfairness of it all- had merely waited for two seconds before Bellatrix and her team of Death Eaters had arrived.

Orion had wasted no time in casting the parsel-invisibility spell on the whole group, knowing that Moody with his magical eye could see through regular disillusionment charms. And so could Arian, since if Orion himself was now able to see through such charm then there was no doubt that the Vindico Lumen could as well.

At present, thus hidden from anyone's sight, they had reached a row of low bushes, right in front of the Burrow and the shimmering layers of wards which encompassed it.

Thirty minutes before, Orion had made his rounds of spell-casting with everyone who would be 'connected' to him.

He hadn't needed to pay Voldemort a visit, since it had been previously agreed that they would be communicating through their mind-link. But he had quickly dropped by Lycaon just to cast the spell on Remus, the same he had used with his Elite when they had broken into Nurmengard – that which allowed them to speak, no matter the distance between them, as if their voices were breathing into each other's ears.

He had done the same to Lezander before leaving the Citadel, and then to his Elite when he had apparated into Potter Manor in order to take them to the Burrow. The only modification Orion had made to the spell was to require that one touched his throat briefly to communicate through it. Otherwise, it would have ended in a jumble of voices as each gave their own orders as they launched their respective attacks.

Moreover, the Elite were all wearing Potion Master's belts with its many loops cinching around several vials of healing potions, which Calypso had been brewing for them for the past few days. And the Elite, as well as the Death Eaters and Orion, had cast on themselves the spell that Voldemort and Orion had a short while ago found in Malfoy Manor – that which created a sort of filter in one's nose, blocking all scents, and thus perfect to counteract and nullify Arian's Veela thrall, since they had discovered in the book that it was through an imperceptible scent, that Veelas could blast off and regulate, that it affected people.

Orion glanced at Bellatrix and her crew again, with a slight frown on his face. He didn't know who he had exactly expected Voldemort to send with her, but he hadn't expected either for all of them to be so young. With the exception of Thorfinn Rowle and Antoine Avery, the rest were wizards who had recently graduated from Hogwarts, some about two years ago, at the very most. He recognized Adrian Pucey, Max Montague and Marcus Flint, and some others who had been in Slytherin House added to some of Ravenclaw.

There was no doubt that it will do them good to have some hands-on battle experience, since Orion knew that the only action they had seen so far was that of past raids into muggle towns and some very few wizarding ones. And those were easy compared to what they were about to embark themselves on.

He supposed that it was a way for Voldemort to test their mettle. And in the end he could only be glad that Romulus Rosier hadn't been sent with the older and experienced Death Eaters.

He had the inkling that Voldemort knew, as well as he did, that it would only end in disaster if Romulus was pitched against Alastor Moody in these attacks. The vendetta that Romulus and Calypso carried against the former Auror was a very serious one, which would undoubtedly make them forego everything else to just kill Moody as brutally, gruesomely, and painfully as possible.

Orion checked that everything on him was in place: Phoenix wand in the holster under his sleeve which was strapped around his left forearm, his Death and Life wand in his right wand-holster, and his new twin daggers in their scabbards looped on his belt.

Then he flicked his right wrist and grabbed his Death and Life wand as it came shooting out of its holster. In the next second, he gazed at the celebration taking place but a few feet away from them.

Bill and Fleur had just pronounced their wedding vows and loud cheers rose at once. Everyone was there, almost all Order members except Kingsley Shacklebot, he noticed. Ron Weasley was with a teary Hermione, who seemed to be affected by the joyful event, though Orion knew better. She was fearing what was to come and crying because she could do nothing to alert anyone or prevent it in any other way.

Ron was patting her awkwardly, and then widely smiling as he glanced at the newly wedded couple. The twins were goofing around, seemingly spiking the punch and mischievously grinning at each other, Molly Weasley was dabbing a handkerchief on her eyes, sobbing with sheer happiness while Arthur looked proud as he embraced his wife and watched his oldest son spinning Fleur on the dancefloor, who was then snatched by Charlie who gave his older brother a grin as he went through the motions of taking the first dance with the bride.

Sirius looked by all appearances to be enjoying the celebration, taking a beautiful witch in his arms, apparently Fleur's mother given their likeness, and gallantly and very skillfully dancing with her. All the other guests were either dancing or just sitting at the side tables, drinking, eating and merrily chatting.

Orion's lips wryly twisted when he suddenly caught sight of Arian. Admittedly, the light wizard was looking quite spectacular, drawing the gazes of many witches as he danced with Fleur's little sister, laughing and dazzlingly smiling as he twirled the girl around.

Nevertheless, Orion's emerald eyes simply sparkled, because it was just perfect. He had not been wrong. It was the perfect occasion to attack and render them all useless while the Ministries were taken.

Bellatrix reached his side with two steps, and hissed out impatiently, "What are you waiting for-"

"Hush," snapped Orion curtly, without peeling his gaze away from the celebration. "You were told to follow my lead and all my orders. You wouldn't want to incur in your Lord's wrath by disobeying him, would you, Aunt?"

He didn't see the expression on her face but it had to be a furious one. Nevertheless, the witch clamped her mouth shut and remained silent.

Orion swiftly cast a tempus charm and the golden numbers glittered before him, making him ascertain that it was about to happen in five minutes, and he started his work.

There was a primer to the most powerful ward which had been cast around the Burrow – a word that if said by someone from the inside, would bring down the ward. It had been done so because that very same ward which blocked the path of entry to anyone who hadn't been invited to the wedding, also prevented apparitions, flights and portkeyings into and out of the place. And it was for the latter, primarily, that the keyword had been created, in case the guests had to suddenly flee if the Burrow was attacked.

It was this ward which he had to break, with help from the inside, since all the other less powerful wards would be taken down by the Elite and Death Eaters jointly. They knew the ward-breaking spells to cast given that he had informed them of the particulars during the meeting in Malfoy Manor.

In a second, he cast the spell which allowed him to see the composition of wards. He had used that same spell the time he, Calypso and Lezander had gone to the English Department of Mysteries. When Orion had to break down some of the Ministry's wards to allow Calypso to portkey away with an unconscious and just-pulled-out-of-the-Veil Lezander, when they thought the vampire had been dying.

The difference, now, was that it all seemed so much easier to him. His powerful magic simply fluidly rolled out of his wand. Only to his eyes, the Burrow was now covered by the violet chains of runes and arithmetic equations which were behind the composition of the ward, like glittering columns of swirling symbols.

It didn't take him long to find the sections which linked that ward to the others, and he started waving his wand, subtlety breaking and modifying those chains. Then he proceeded to deactivate the alarm spell interwoven with it, so that when the ward was brought down, there would be no indication of it. Finally, he nullified the part that would trigger a notification in the main caster's mind – Moody, he knew from what he had gleaned from Hermione's mind – if and when the primer was said.

He finished his work with great satisfaction, and then, at precisely the time he had instructed her to act, down to the very second, he saw Hermione calmly approaching a table near the wards to grab a glass of water, her mouth slightly parting open and a word breathing out from her lips.

Earlier in the day, the moment he had awoken, Orion had immediately plunged into her mind through the mind-possession curse. He had ordered her to approach the wards at a specific time and to inconspicuously whisper the primer.

And now she had done so, only the pinched expression on her face giving any indication that she wasn't acting out of free-will, but no one noticed such an imperceptible sign. And who would suspect a muggleborn, after all?

As he had also instructed her to do, once done, Hermione went back into the midst of the celebration with glass of water in hand. No alarms sounded, nothing visibly happened as the ward came crushing down only before his eyes, and Moody was certainly none the wiser.

He cancelled the spell that allowed him to see the magical formulas of wards, and then cast his very own undetectable ward around the place – preventing apparations, flooings, flights, portkeyings or just walks out from anyone who didn't have the Black or Dark mark.

It had taken him just a few hours during the morning to modify such powerful ward to include the mark aspect of it. It was not something altogether new, since the Death Eaters often used such for their Dark marks. Admittedly not as powerful as his, but the basics were there, so it had only taken him a bit of tweaking of the original arithmetic and rune equations to create a new spell for the modified ward.

Now, only the other easier wards to break remained.

"It's done," breathed out Orion, then frowning when he gazed at the unsuspecting wedding guests.

"Where is Arian, Titania? He was there but a minute ago. Have any of you seen where he's gone?" Orion glanced to his side when he expected an immediate response and got none. "Tita?"

For an instant, his frown deepened when he saw that Titania was staring at him with wide eyes, a frozen expression on her face, her mouth parted open as if she had been about to cry out something.

In the next second, he was gripping his wand, his senses heightened and his posture tense, alert and on guard, as he saw that the Elite and Death Eaters all looked the same, as if they had been frozen where they stood, some with alarmed expressions on their faces, others with utterly calm ones, evidently not having seen or detected anything amiss when struck, while Orion himself had been concentrated and absorbed in his ward work.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are. I cannot see you, but I can feel you, Orion. How could I not, hmmm? I'll let your pets go if you come out and join me in the merry-making."

Orion gritted his teeth, that voice and tone was unmistakable. He saw him then, seemingly having come out of the blue, with his back turned to him, still inside the wards of the Burrow, as if he was observing the dancing couples.

From behind, Arian's bronze hair with golden streaks caught and reflected the sunrays, making the wizard look as if he had a halo of blazing light about him.

Orion glanced at his frozen Elite and the Death Eaters, and then just gripped his wand tightly, aiming at the light wizard's back when he took a step out of the invisibility bubble.

"Good boy," said Arian, shooting him a charming smile over his shoulder, still without moving an inch, appearing as if he was observing the celebration and simply standing within the boundaries of it. "You're looking well, I'm pleased to see. Now, I won't kill your companions if you don't fight me. I only want a chat with you. What do you say, hmm? I don't ask for much."

"Fine," spat Orion, his jaw clenching.

Arian shot him another glance over his shoulder. "Then put your wand away and don't block my spells. I gain nothing by hurting you at this stage, n'est-ce pas?"

Orion quickly made up his mind about the best course of action to take, and then calmly obeyed, tucking his wand back into its holster and just expectantly waiting with a sharp grin on his face.

For a moment, Arian looked surprised and then suspicious at Orion's placid acquiescence. But he seemed to put it out of his mind, and simply waved a hand at him, twice.

Orion immediately felt the effects of whatever wandless spells the light wizard had cast. He was moving as if his body was pulled by strings, his feet dragging forward before he took some control over them and simply followed where they wanted to lead.

He crossed the remaining wards as if they weren't there, surely due to Arian, and then he was in the middle of the celebration with couples dancing around him, others chatting here and there, and no one apparently noticing or even seeing him at all.

He saw his father pass him by, spinning a pretty witch as they danced, and then Arian was by his side, shooting him a smile and his cerulean blue eyes gleaming as he took hold of Orion's arm and led him to a somewhat secluded area away from the dancefloor as he cast a muting charm to not be heard by anyone nearby.

"I had an inkling you would do something like this," said Arian, vaguely gesturing at where the Elite and Death Eaters remained invisible to all but Orion, yet still frozen by Arian. "It was fairly easy for me to cast a spell at people who are marked with a magical brand, even if I can't see them."

He shot him a wide smile as his silky hair fluttered in the wind, making him look like a windblown angel being gently swept and rocked by caressing breezes, and he looked the part perfectly, to Orion's immense irritation. "And I knew you'd want to mark your Elite before taking them to battle. I also surmised that something would happen today. You see, Voldemort might have a Seer working for him to obnubilate all his meetings, but what you didn't count on was that I would detect such blocks and their frequencies. You dropped the ball there, hmmm?"

Orion didn't dignify that quip with an answer, and Arian simply smiled at him again, leaning forward to whisper into his ear, "I also know who she is. Mrs. Zabini is a very powerful Seer, I must concede. And she has been able to block me out when our… ah, 'inner eyes' have met. But still, how long do you think she'll keep helping your side? She doesn't want to be Voldemort's minion. She'll do anything to free herself from his clutches and go back to her neutrality. She's a dangerous witch to depend on, my nemesis. I could easily lure her to my side with the promise to leave her alone."

"You don't have an inner eye at all, do you?" said Orion coolly, ignoring what he said about Jezabel Zabini since it wasn't news to him that she cared only about her son and herself. "You're a post-cognitor, not a Seer. I know that."

"Ah, Bathilda Bagshot told you much, I see," said Arian with a satisfied grin. "Just as I had hoped." He then stoically arched an eyebrow at him, his lips quirking upwards. "But did you really need to kill one of my followers?"

"The muggle killed himself, actually," interjected Orion dryly. He shot him a mocking glance, nastily smirking at him. "But he wasn't truly your follower, was he? The Illuminati mark he had didn't sport the Druidic Runes. Having problems controlling your own minions, Arian?"

"Is that what you think?" The light wizard let out a low bout of laughter as he shook his head, before he pierced him with gleaming azure eyes. "I'm allowing them to not be in my direct control because it suits my purposes for the time being. Their 'leader' is someone who is still of some use to me, but let me tell you that I'll dispose of him the moment he's not." Something thunderous raged in his blue eyes. "He will get what he deserves, for my parents' death."

"That's the leader of the Illuminati extremists?" said Orion slowly, fixedly staring at him. "The muggle who Dumbledore took to your parents' home?"

"Illuminati _extremists_?" Arian seemed to find Orion's title for them very amusing.

"What's his name?" demanded Orion shortly, ignoring the wizard's chuckles.

"As if I would tell you that," said Arian, tutting with his tongue.

Orion pierced him with narrowed eyes, as he surreptitiously slowly flexed his hands by his sides, testing how much he was able to move under the influence of the wizard's spell on him. It seemed to be waning, probably because the light wizard was focusing more on their conversation than on maintaining it at full-force. So it was simply a matter of keep distracting the man with conversation, as engaging as possible.

"So you and him have the same goal? 'Magic for All' by giving muggles magical abilities through gene alteration?"

Arian arched an eyebrow at him. "You have figured that out." He then widely grinned at him. "Well, I've always known you're bright. But on this matter, you're partly incorrect. He's the one pushing that. I don't really care one way or the other as long as the negative consequences can be plucked out." He leaned forward to taunting whisper into his ear, "So you see, you still don't really know what my true plan is, hmmm?"

Orion felt a surge of angered irritation and annoyance swell up in him, but he quickly repressed it, and said coolly, "Let's get to whatever point you want to make. Surely you didn't want a 'chat' with me just to tell me this stuff?"

"You spoil all the fun," said Arian wryly, shooting him a chiding glance as if Orion was a misbehaving animated toy that simply refused to play puppet with him. Abruptly, he flashed him with a wide, pearly-white, dazzlingly smile. "But you're right. I wanted to talk about past lives. I'm getting a bit impatient with you. It's taking you a while to glue the pieces together, n'est-ce pas?"

Orion grinned at him. He could fist his hands now. "Alright. I'll play your game. Who were you Arian?"

"Oh, that's just such an all-encompassing question, is it not?" said Arian loftily. "So many millennia to think about, hmmm? It would take me ages to answer that fully. I think we should start with another question first." His lips quirked upwards as his cerulean blue eyes gleamed. "You must have seen the 'Kraljica Mati' by now, n'est-ce pas? And I know what Vivian must have told you. So tell me, did you believe her?"

Orion blinked at him, momentarily startled by the question. "Of course I do." He frowned at the wizard and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Are you implying that she has lied about something?"

"Oh no, on the contrary, I'm sure she told you as much as she knew." Arian leaned forward, towering over him but not in a threatening manner, as his voice lowered to a playful murmur, "The point is, did you believe what she had to say about Merlin and Morgause – about what they respectively believed their origins to be?"

Orion scoffed, rolling his eyes. "No, I don't believe that."

"I'm disappointed in you, such little faith, Orion, it should shame you," said Arian with dry amusement. He tilted his head to a side, his lips tugging upwards. "But you have never been one to truly believe in 'Gods', have you? Rather preferred to consider yourself above such things, hmmm? Even above Them."

"What on earth are you trying to say?" groused out Orion, while he covertly flexed the muscles of his arms and inched them forward. He let out a snide snort. "That Merlin was truly the result of the Light Source 'implanting his magical seed' in a woman? And that the three sisters were similarly the Dark Source's daughters?"

"That's exactly it," whispered Arian with a bright smile stretching on his lips. "Doesn't Gaia call you her child, when She whispers into your mind, hmmm? Do you think She does it as a form of endearment? She calls you that, and always had, because you are Mordred and as such, Her 'descendant' since you came from the sisters' line. You carry Igraine's blood in you, two-fold."

"I know that," said Orion, just barely able to shake his head. "But you can't expect me to believe that the Sources truly-"

"It happened many times in past ages," interrupted Arian, briefly looking exasperated with him. "Merlin and the three sisters were the last but they certainly weren't the first to be 'produced' by the Sources, in times when They could easily do it, when They were much stronger."

He flashed him with an amused, charming smile, and leaned to murmur into his ear, "Who do you think it was when muggles proclaimed to have seen Zeus himself roaming about and bedding one of them? Who do you think muggles and wizards alike, of those ages, believed Them to be when They were powerful enough to take physical form and directly meddled as They wished to attain some of Their respective differing goals? Isis, Osiris, Anubis, Kali, Vishna, Jupiter, Athena, Mars, Venus, Zeus, Thor, Apollo… I could go on and on. They took many shapes and were called many names."

Orion stared at him with round eyes, his mind spinning as he tried to discern the implications which affected him directly, and he breathed out slowly, "Then… then Merlin and Morgause were right, so… I'm Mordred, and that leaves to you to be who?"

"In Merlin's times, you mean?"

"Obviously," snapped Orion impatiently, with a scowl on his face. "Say I believe you. Then if I'm Gaia's child because as Mordred I was Igraine's grandson and I'm his descendant since I come from all three of his Peverell lines with the addition of some others, then it's only logical that you are Gaius' child. That would mean that you come from Merlin. But he couldn't have children himself. He adopted someone as his heir, and magically passed his bloodline and powers to him. So that must have been you. What was your name?"

"You miss the point that I've been trying to make you see for some time," interjected Arian conversationally. "Bloodlines make us who we are but your soul, and mine, have much to do as well with why we're the Vindicos." He flashed him with a smile as he whispered conspiratorially, "And that wasn't our first lives, I'm glad to say."

Orion merely looked at him with utter impassivity.

"Hmmm, you don't look surprised," remarked Arian, gazing at him with a disappointed look. "I was looking forward to puzzle you with that. Oh, well, I have other things to tell that will do the trick."

Orion shot him an irritated glance, and said flatly, "A friend already thought that it was very likely that you weren't referring to those times at all when speaking about our first lives."

"A friend… who could it be…" Arian's handsome face brightened. "Ah, the Rosier chit, hmmm?" His expression abruptly turned grave as he searchingly gazed at him. "You are very close to her, n'est-ce pas?"

"I am," said Orion coolly, frowning when he saw the odd glint in the wizard's cerulean blue eyes. There was pity there, perhaps, or sadness, or maybe compassion. He couldn't quite discern it, or tell at whom it was directed, and it didn't make sense to him either. In the end, he darkly glowered at the wizard and bit out sharply, "Will you just answer my bloody question? Who did Merlin turn into his heir? Who were you?"

"Merlin chose the youngest of the Knights," said Arian impassively, a breeze picking up his hair and making it shine with rich golden hues under the sunlight. "I was Galahad."

"Lancelot's son?" murmured Orion flummoxed, incredulity lacing his voice as he tried to remember about him in the memory that the Kraljica Mati had showed him. Admittedly, then he had been solely focused on Mordred and Arthur Pendragon. He didn't remember much about Galahad, only that he had been young, possibly of Mordred's same age, and handsome as well as noble and good-natured looking. "Why did Merlin choose him – you?"

"Oh, for many reasons," said Arian pleasantly. "Firstly, it wasn't Merlin who initially chose me, but the Light Source itself. I'm sure you know by now about the Scrying Waters in Gaia's Isle in Avalon. There's something similar in Gauis' side too." He his lips wryly quirked upwards. "The Sources are not ones to allow to be outmatched by the other. They are always fighting in their struggle for predominance, to in the end vanquish the other – that's why They ended up producing Vindicos, you see. It came to the point that They could do nothing else but. And it has taken Them many millenia already – you and I are the result, at long last."

Arian paused to shoot him a pointed glance. "That's why I'm so impatient for you to become Gaia's. Since I'm the Vindico Lumen, there isn't much I can 'help' the Light Source with if I don't have you, as the Vindico Atrum, to defeat and vanquish. Which Source survives depends on us in the end."

Orion momentarily gaped at him, his mind a jumble of frenzied and apprehensive thoughts. He had known, of course, that the Vindico business was all about the predominance of one Source over the other, but he hadn't suspected that it went beyond that - to the complete annihilation of the Source who lost. It was a very grave matter, indeed. And he couldn't quite figure out what he wanted to happen. Certainly, he had always wanted dark wizarding kind to be on top, to be in power, and thus, he wanted the Dark Source to become stronger. But to the point of sacrificing all light magic for it? Of utterly destroying the Light Source?

He didn't think he liked the idea. He didn't really know what to think about that. Light wizards were still wizards, he considered them as part of his kind, in the whole. That he didn't want them to be in power didn't mean that he wanted them to cease to exist at some point. Nevertheless, those were matters to seriously ponder about later. It was evident that he needed to keep gleaning as much as he could from Arian, while he kept surreptitiously proceeding with his plan.

Orion stared at the light wizard with pensive frown on his face, now taking in every tidbit of information as if they were drops of water to a parched man. "And secondly?"

"Secondly, I in those times – Galahad– was the Light Source's long ago chosen soul, reborn," said Arian, flashing him with a wide, dazzling smile. "As I told you, much has to do with our souls. And thirdly, Excalibur completely reacted to me, it was that which convinced Merlin." He held up a hand the moment Orion opened his mouth, his lips quirking upwards. "And no, I'm obviously not going to tell you what it is or anything about it. I would be a fool if I did, n'est-ce pas? And that I've never been."

"Fine," groused out Orion, then searchingly gazing at him pensively. "Did you start remembering your past lives then? Is that what, or how, it happened?"

"Not at all," said Arian placidly. "It was later during my life as Galahad that something was triggered. I started remembering due to it, in that life. And it has happened very often, similarly, throughout my other lives."

"How is that possible?" muttered Orion with a deep, perplexed frown on his face. He shot him a piercing glance. "What happened to you as Galahad that made you remember?"

"You should know your history," said Arian, widely grinning at him as he cocked his head to a side, which made him look quite deceptively endearing. "Don't you remember what Galahad is famous for?"

Orion darkly scowled at him. "No. Galahad is stuff of muggle stories, as far as I know. I've never seen him mentioned in any wizarding books. I've never had any reason to have interest in him, so I've never researched into his life."

"You need to expand your horizons," said Arian flatly. "Being ignorant of muggle myths works against you, since even if they are unaware of it nowadays, their ancient accounts hold many partial truths of much consequence." He waved a hand dismissively, and added airily, "I embarked on a quest. After Camelot was destroyed when you killed your father, I and some other Knights took to travelling. It was then that we heard rumors about someone long dead and about something of his. When I found this magical object, I supposed it could be said that it triggered something in me, and I started remembering."

The light wizard paused and flashed him with a bright, pearly-white smile. "You see, I had been its creator, in a past life of ages ago. I'm talking about the Cup of Life, if you still haven't figured that out."

"The Cup of…" Orion trailed off in a mumble, as his mind lurched.

Arian tilted his head to a side and smiled at him expectantly, though as usual, his smile was as sharp as it was charming.

"You mean the Grail, the so-called Holy Grail?" Orion blinked at him, utterly perplexed, his mind spinning. "So you were him, Jesus of Nazareth?"

"Oh no, I was his best friend. A light wizard like him." Arian dazzlingly smiled at him, his cerulean eyes gleaming. "I was Judas."

Orion stared at him, not quite knowing what to make of things. And to think that just the previous day everything had gone so well, and now he found himself in the midst of Bill Weasleys' and Fleur Delacour's wedding celebration, in what was undoubtedly an attack gone awry, given his current situation.

But it wasn't going to remain awry for long. Orion inwardly smirked when he managed to surreptitiously shuffle his feet without Arian noticing. The light wizard's control over him had already vastly diminished. Arian was losing concentration in keeping the wandless spell on him, too focused on their conversation instead. Orion knew he needed only to push it a bit further, though he had to admit that the revelations were both utterly capturing his interest and flummoxing him.

"So if you were Judas," said Orion slowly, "are you saying that I was Jesus?"

Arian choked, and Orion was soon glowering at him with annoyance when he saw that the light wizard was choking on laughter, so hard that his body shook while tears of mirth rolled from his cerulean blue eyes. "You – Jesus?! I've never heard something so ridiculous in my life! You hadn't been reborn in those times, thankfully, since Merlin knows what would have happened if you had. How could it have crossed your mind that you could have been him? You don't have a humble bone in your body and you completely lack the utter selflessness he had!"

"That's rich, coming from you," interjected Orion caustically, his voice laced with dark irritation, "his betrayer."

Arian's countenance instantly changed, becoming grave and thunderous, his laughter abruptly ending, as he said sharply, "I did what was asked of me. It was as much as my sacrifice as his. We were brothers, not in blood but still at heart! Do you think it was easy to send my closest friend, a man with whom I had been practically raised together since infancy, to his death, hmmm? Because he wanted to make that sacrifice, because we both knew it was required in order to attain our goals?"

"Look, I don't really care two straws about that-"

"Oh no, you asked and you're going to understand what it means," interrupted Arian curtly, his cerulean blue eyes looking fiercely stormy. "I told you before that the Sources, in ancient times like those and in previous ones, were powerful and strong to the point of it being easy for Them to take a magical physical form, n'est-ce pas? Gaius needed his tools for what He wanted to be done, so He created his Messiah and He gave me the understanding of what was required to do."

He paused to pin Orion with a pointed and piercing blue gaze. "Who do you think materialized into the 'Holy Spirit' to plant His seed in a young muggle jewess, hmmm? Let me tell you, the Immaculate Conception wasn't all that immaculate. Poor Maria didn't quite know what was happening to her, but given the place and times, she did believe Him to be God. If she had been a Roman instead of a Jew, she would have thought Him to be Jupiter himself."

"You're saying that the Light Source did that?" Orion shook his head, flummoxed. "Why, for what? How is that connected to everything else?"

"In many ways," said Arian curtly, his shoulders still stiff. "Gaius wanted to build where previously Gaia had destroyed, each following Their own aims to make Themselves stronger." He leveled a hard gaze at him. "Who do you think whispered into Nero's and Caligula's minds when they both brought upon the partial destruction of Rome and started plunging the Empire into decadence, in their respective times?"

"Gaia?" breathed out Orion, his mind a swirling mesh of rushing thoughts.

"Precisely," said Arian shortly, with a stern expression on his perfectly chiseled, gorgeously handsome face. "On the other hand, the Light Source wanted to prevent the collapse of the muggle civilization in the times and place of Pontius Pilate. He never wished for the destruction of muggles, as Gaia does. You see, for Gaius, it was all about helping the Roman Empire subsist several centuries longer and to give muggles moral and civil principles and foundations to bring them peace and in which to thrive and thus clear some of the corruption and decadence in which they had fallen into with the Roman Empire. Nevertheless, Gaius left the particulars and details to us. Jesus was His 'child' by all accounts and I was the one who had to survive and see the worse come through, so that muggles wouldn't forget the sacrifice, so that Jesus' teachings would be branded in their minds."

He paused to shoot him a sharp glance. "And he and I succeeded, n'est-ce pas? It was thanks to what we did then that the Roman Empire endured beyond Constantine's times, who took the new religion and spread it, bringing peace and union to the muggle world." He waved a hand dismissively. "Admittedly, wars between muggles were waged much later due to religion, but that wasn't our fault, but theirs for twisting, corrupting, and using it to justify their own greedy actions."

Orion deeply frowned. "What does the Light Source gain by keeping the muggle world thriving? When they die, they return no magic to Him. They only serve to give the Sources their spirits once their souls go through the Ultimate Transcendence, plunging into the Sources as mere metaphysical matter." He searchingly gazed at him. "Is it Gaius who needs that to become stronger while Gaia doesn't? Or is it Him that simply gets all of it? Or is it the Light Source's aim to keep muggles numerous so that muggleborns keep popping from them?"

"All of that is the crux of the matter, n'est-ce pas?" said Arian pleasantly, eyeing him with pointed condescension. "If you want to find out, then become the Vindico Atrum. You will not understand or ever have a clue until you do."

Orion gritted his teeth and glanced down at his feet, and he instantly looked up at Arian the moment he realized he had moved a step at some point. The light wizard hadn't noticed, not even he himself had until he had seen his footprints in the crushed grass. He felt it now, he could really move.

Yet, Orion decided to wait, just a few more minutes and he would be ready. He plunged his mind into the discussion, to find anything which would distract the light wizard.

"You said, at first, that you had created the Holy Grail," said Orion, shooting him a musing glance. "I take it to mean that you and Jesus did it, jointly." Arian merely nodded at him, and he continued slowly, "I also take it to mean that it was created for some purpose. That perhaps the Light Source told you to. From what I know, legends say that if drunk from it, it grants eternal youth and immortality… and perhaps it does more, maybe it gives more magical power?"

He glanced at the light wizard but Arian didn't twitch, his expression conveyed nothing. Orion frowned at him with deep pensiveness. "Well, besides that, you said that when you were Galahad and found the Grail, you started remembering your past lives – obviously your life as Judas included, so…"

"So?" prompted Arian, his lips tugging upwards as he expectantly gazed at him.

"The Philosopher's Stone…" breathed out Orion, his eyes widening as the realization struck him like a lightning bolt. "You found the Grail again during this life, didn't you? That's how you remember your past lives now, through a magical artifact you had partly created, perhaps for that very same purpose among others. And you found it when you went to the Flamels. Of course! How else could they have created their Philosopher's Stone to expand their lives if they hadn't in their possession the Holy Grail, to study it and make as limited a replica of it as they had the power and knowledge to do so?"

He paused to intensely stare at him, to detect any twitch in his features, any reaction, as he continued with now utter certainty, "The Flamels must have known they couldn't keep the Grail - that someday someone with the intention of becoming the Vindico Lumen would want it and take it from them. So they created their own limited source for immortality. The Flamels had it, possibly no one knew, and perhaps the Illuminati muggle leader who went to your parents' house was looking for the Grail if not for Excalibur as well. And it would make sense for a powerful, wealthy muggle to want the Grail, to drink from it and attain eternal youth."

"I salute you for that magnificent trail of deduction," said Arian, gallantly lowering his chin in a bow, as he peered at him with gleaming cerulean eyes. "All of it is correct."

Orion stared at him piercingly, his breath catching in his throat. "Did you use it?"

"Indeed I have. It would have been very stupid of me if I hadn't, don't you think, hmmm?"

Orion slowly let out an exhalation of breath, gazing at him with his mind spinning almost to the point of incoherent havoc. What did it mean - that Arian was truly immortal now? He didn't know what to make of things... He needed time to think about everything Arian had disclosed to him, to really figure out and see all the implications, consequences, and repercussions.

But more importantly, it was time and he could move – he knew it. He had to act now or the others would be launching their attacks before he had succeeded in his. And that would be catastrophic. He estimated that he only had five minutes left – it wasn't, not even remotely, enough.

"Of course, the crux of the matter is that we had our first lives ages before my time as Judas."

"Ages?" mumbled Orion dismayed, feeling utterly befuddled.

He then frowned, forcing himself to concentrate on what was truly important at the moment, tensing all his muscles in preparation. And then he finally lurched into action.

As he knew he could, he moved so fast that his movements were such flashes of mere blurs that it would have made Cyprian himself be proud of him.

In a fraction of a second, he had flicked his right wrist and grabbed the Death and Life wand that came shooting out and cast a glamour on his face. In the next split second, he had a dagger in his left hand, had pressed the emerald on it and he lunged forward, slashing a long deep gash on Arian's chest.

A cry of shock and pain escaped from Arian's throat as the light wizard reeled backwards, staggering, pressing a hand against the deep wound, while his sliced pale blue robes started to get soaked with the blood that copiously surged.

However, Orion had kept acting just as quickly and already had his arms around the taller wizard, pressing their chests together to hide the wound from all others and slowly moving with him as if they were dancing. Because now, as he had expected, they were visible to the attendants of the wedding celebration.

The poison rushing through Arian's veins immobilized him to some degree, affecting muscles and nervous system. And due to it, as Orion had hoped, the light wizard was no longer able to maintain all the spells he had cast. He lacked the focus for it.

Indeed, Arian eyes were glazed over and he had a slack expression on his gorgeous face. And Orion bashfully smiled up at him as if he was a besotted admirer of the half-Veela, as he glanced over the wizard's shoulder while he kept slowly dancing with him, holding him up. And he saw it, what he had expected: the Elite and Death Eaters were free. They were moving now.

Orion briefly touched his throat and whispered urgently to his Elite, "Bring down the rest of the wards with the help of the Death Eaters and attack as soon as you can."

"Gotcha," came Titania's voice into his ears. "But what about Valenor-"

"I'm handling him. You don't have to worry about him. Just get rid of the wards and get in."

Through the bubble of invisibility, he saw all of them working frenziedly into bringing down the remaining wards, and he quickly estimated how long it would take them to succeed and for them to have everyone there under their control.

Then he quickly touched his throat again, pressing his cheek into Arian's chest, playing his part as he slowly revolved with the wizard on the dance floor. "Remus, Lez, we had a set back. We need twenty more minutes."

"We'll wait for you to tell us when, dragostea mea," came Lezander's calm voice, just before Remus' was added, "Same here in Dublin, cub."

Orion smiled but quickly broke off the communication to lower his Occlumency shields and push his mind's voice into his link with Voldemort, informing him of the same.

The Dark Lord, for his part, merely hissed with displeasure, making a surge of pain flare in Orion's scar. Orion just rolled his eyes and ignored it.

"It's not a lethal poison, Arian," he murmured into the wizard's neck, never stopping in his slow dance with the light wizard, while he now and then shot glances over the man's shoulder to see how his team was progressing in their ward-breaking work. "Relax, and tell me more. Who were we? If it was ages before your time as Judas, we could be speaking about many possible times and civilizations in which we lived. Which was it, Arian?"

The light wizard attempted a glare with unfocused eyes, his mouth slowly flapping open and close, but only a strangled sound issued, and Orion widely grinned at him.

Oh, he would so show his gratitude for the daggers to Draco that night. The poison was brilliant.

He hefted up Arian to keep him standing, given that the light wizard's limp legs weren't of much use, while he took him for a slow spin on the dance floor. He noticed there were guests gazing at them, mostly young witches wondering who was the young wizard pressed so closely and intimately against their charming half-Veela.

Knowing he couldn't possibly be recognized with the glamour he had cast on his features, Orion shot them smiles as continued dancing around with his partner. When he caught sight of Moody, he instantly pressed his face against Arian's chest, as if with enamored affection, whilst he hid his features from the ex-Auror's spinning magical eye, which could see through glamours – he knew well.

"Tell me Arian," whispered Orion, "were we in Egyptian, Roman, Persian, Greek, Assyrian, Mesopotamian or Babylonian times? Which of those? It could be any and there were several more." He looked up at the wizard when they were far away from Moody, piercing Arian with an intense and searching gaze. "Give me a clue."

"Getting… warmer…that's clue… " slowly slurred out Arian, an expression of immense frustration creeping over his handsome face as he languidly shook his head slowly. "You didn't … have to do… this…"

Orion ignored his last words and shot him a calculating look. The effects of the poison would soon be vanishing, it was clear.

"We're done!" suddenly came Titania's triumphant voice into his ear.

Orion didn't waste a single second. He shot them a glance and instantly cancelled the invisibility bubble as Elite and Death Eaters spilled into the celebration, wands blazing with countless beams of spells and curses that shot out from them, as cries and screams rose.

In the next second, he cancelled the glamour on his face and gave Arian a hard push on the chest, making the light wizard fly back several feet.

Orion widely smirked, and in a flash he brandished his wand again and torrents of water shot out like ravaging, spilling rivers which instantly twined around Arian, lifting him up, yelling and startled, up into the skies, in a sphere of violently swirling oceans which immediately drowned him into their very core with their powerful currents.

It had finally started.


	41. Seizing the Wwedding &the Ministers' lot

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

A reviewer brought up the subject about Orion's relationship with several people at the same time, and I'm glad that she/he did, because I've seen that it's something that bothers many readers or that is disliked. So I'll try to clear it up, or rather, explain it from my point of view.

But before that, a clarification: The Black Heir was labeled as HPLV but this fic wasn't –I mentioned this before, I bring it up again because it was asked once more- so it was implied that in this fic Orion could end up with anyone.

Now, the way I see it, of why Orion has now 3 lovers and why it doesn't necessarily mean that he's doing something wrong or bad:

Firstly, it's not that he's being unfaithful to Voldemort or Lezander, or Draco for that matter. He has never 'cheated' them. He didn't go behind their backs, he openly told them what he wanted and they agreed to keep on having a relationship with him even if he was with others. And they, as well, came to decisions to not regard Orion as their 'only one', so to speak, like when Lezander decided that he wanted to take Draco as his official mate, and like when Voldemort decided to break the marital bond and stop treating Orion as his 'consort'. (And I wouldn't see Voldemort as a victim by any stretch of the imagination, even if Orion bedded the entire wizarding world.)

So you see, in the complex lives they have, each of them made a decision to stay together yet allow certain freedom in their lives, because if not, they wouldn't be able to manage everything. Draco did this as well; even when he had already slept with Orion he was still considering a marriage with a pureblood girl –until he received Blaise's letter telling him the Greengrass family wanted nothing to do with him anymore. It doesn't mean, though, that he will not marry and have a new Lady Malfoy just because he wants Orion. He has his own duties to fulfill.

Secondly, which comes hand-in-hand with the above, in the world they live, given their respective duties to their bloodline and their respective plans and ambitions, they can't afford to simply marry for love or be with their only one for the rest of their lives. It simply doesn't work like that, the way I imagine it. Being in love and staying with that person is a luxury for them, and they adjusted as well as they could given each of their circumstances.

You must remember that they are not ordinary people. Draco is a Malfoy, Lezander a vampire Rege, Voldemort a Dark Lord, and Orion the so-called prophet who has to lead the Dark and who's every decision affects not only him but the politics of the wizarding world.

It's like in past, when royalty and wealthy people had to marry for political, social or financial reasons, while the ordinary people didn't have to care about such things. And this still happens in our times in certain circles and countries, so I find it easy to believe and understand.

And finally, I see Orion as someone who once he gives his heart to another and forms attachments, then isn't able or desires to cut those ties. He wants to keep by his side those he loves and that is why he has accumulated three lovers, so to speak.

His first relationship was with Lezander and even if he stopped loving the vampire, Orion wouldn't be able to easily let go of him. Then the first member of his family of his age he came to know and befriend was Draco, and they developed a close friendship, thus Orion wouldn't let go of him either. And of course, Voldemort has been a fixture in his life as well, starting with locket Tom.

All of them, even if they didn't feel romantic love for one another, are bound to Orion in many ways: by blood, family and friendship, in the case of Orion/Draco; by the 'first love' and lifemate issue in the case of Orion/Lezander; and by their ambitions, Dark side politics, and more or less similar levels of power and dark magic which gives them similar status, in the case of Orion/Voldemort.

Furthermore, the three of them have been vastly important in his life and Orion, as we have seen, has a possessive streak to him of not letting go those who are close to him – it could be due to the lack of care he suffered with the Dursleys, which made him grasp those who showered him with any small amount of love and attention, and it can also be due to the things I mentioned in the paragraph above.

Therefore, all in all, Orion is extremely loyal in that regard, not unfeeling or unfaithful. In my opinion, he would be 'unfaithful' if he didn't care about them, if he threw Lezander and Draco to away just to be with Voldemort, or the other way around.

All of this is why I imagined Orion ending up in the situation in which he is now. But this doesn't mean –as I pointed out in a previous Author's Note- that it will stay this way forever.

On another note, a reviewer asked why Orion hadn't marked Patrick Connolly –Remus' Beta. If you'll remember, Orion had indeed told Connolly that he would one day mark him, but Connolly didn't want to be part of a group of children (referring to the Elite) and Orion had then vaguely mentioned a group of adults into which Connolly would fit in perfectly as a liaison with the werewolves (referring to the Aux Atrum).

And for that Orion wanted to someday introduce Connolly to Morgana's spirit and reveal the Vindico Atrum issue to the werewolf, since Connolly wouldn't agree to become Orion's follower if he didn't have evidence of Orion's importance and 'political power', so to speak. Thus, Orion is indeed planning on making Connolly an Aux Atrum, but this will happen when Orion becomes the VA, since then the Aux would truly become his most loyal followers and thus he would have the right to mark whomever he chooses as an Aux.

**Note:** Don't kill me for the way this chapters ends. I didn't have time to write more and I thought it would be best to post it as it was than to make you wait even longer for an update. I'll try to write and post the next chapter as soon as I can manage so that I don't leave you hanging. But it will probably be a short one, because I'm really very busy at the moment, so I won't be able to write as much and post as frequently as before.

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it and tell me what you think!

* * *

**Chapter 41**

It was utter pandemonium.

Orion shifted to a side as ricocheting beams of spells and curses flew over his head. Without breaking the sphere of rolling waves that had Arian entrapped in its very center, high up in the sky, and directed and maintained with his Death and Life wand in his right hand, he quickly took possession of his Phoenix wand with his left hand and swiftly cast on himself numerous shielding spells.

With all the lessons taught to him by Cyprian and Gellert coming forth in his mind, he repositioned himself to assess the fight and any incoming enemy.

Orion knew what to look for: the angle, bending and positioning of elbows and knees in an enemy, to ascertain the direction in which the attack would come -as Cyprian had hammered into his skull- to notice any possible feints and watch for the positioning of a rival's shoulders to detect if an offensive or defensive attack would follow.

Vampires relied on reading an enemy's stance when fighting, and they raised shields as the need for them arose, relying more on their flash-like reflexes and physical strength to counteract.

Romulus Rosier, during Dark Arts classes at Durmstrang, had taught him a different technique, to firstly raise one basic and powerful shield that would protect him against most mild curses, to cover his front and back, and then cast more shield spells as the need arose.

Gellert's method went beyond that: from the start mounting many shields, one on top of the other, and locking them together, at sides, over the head, at back and front, creating an armor of locked and interlinked shields. This required great power to cast and greater concentration to maintain them, for which was necessary an ordered mind trained in Occlumency to better accomplish it, according to Grindelwald.

Moreover, Cyprian had taught him to always be aware of his position relative to that of his enemies and to the boundaries of the combat area. To always present a side of his torso to the enemy he was facing, showing the least possible surface of his body to be targeted, to keep his back towards the 'walls' and 'corners' of the combat area, leaving enough space in between to never be boxed in. To stay away from the center of combat area if he was facing several enemies since he shouldn't give them more angles from which to strike at him, preferably keeping his back towards a 'wall', diagonally, so that most of his back was covered and he only presented a flank of his body to enemies attacking him from other directions.

Gellert, for his part, had taught him to envision a battlefield as if it were a giant chessboard in which he had to be constantly dancing around, taking the position of a rook and quickly advancing diagonally against his opposer at an unexpected angle, then switching to become a knight and apparating from one square of the chessboard to another several feet away, having the advantage of surprise, then feinting and acting like a peon, simply moving one square forward, and then quickly changing to become a knight and then a tower, and so forth.

Orion had taken all those advices to heart and he was easily putting them into practice, just as he saw his Elite doing the same, since he had taught them much of it during DA lessons. Yet, no one was attacking him. They were all following Arian's orders in that regard.

With his body shimmering with mounted and locked shields of magic, he momentarily watched how the others were doing.

A leader in a battle was like a General of old times, Gellert had frequently insisted. Grindelwald had always said that most of the work a Dark Lord did during battles was merely to observe and direct his fighters from afar, solely focusing on the tactics displayed and changing them along the way as the battle unfolded, but not usually involving himself directly in the fight. Orion understood the reason for it though he didn't necessarily like that leaders directed those under his command from a safe distance. He much preferred to fight with his followers and be right smack in the middle of the action. Nevertheless, in this occasion his self-appointed task was to deal with Arian yet he did take the time now to ascertain how everything was proceeding.

He first caught sight of a wizard in bright yellow robes who was running for cover towards the house. He recognized him as Xenophilius Lovegood. Luna had told him that her father had been invited to the wedding by Arthur Weasley, since they were neighbors. And Orion had promised her dad wouldn't be harmed. He saw to his satisfaction that both the Elite and the Death Eaters were obeying those orders.

Luna had been invited as well, but he had instructed her after the Marking Ceremony to feign a sudden bout of fever and remain in her home, yet allow her father to attend the wedding or it would have been suspicious.

Orion had no doubt that the wizard would cause no trouble. It was clear that the man was not disposed to fight but to protect himself. And from what Luna had told him about her father, he knew that Xenophilius would go along with the new Dark-oriented Ministry that was going to be established; not because the man was a coward, Luna had explained, but because her father would simply go along with those in power in order to protect his family.

Furthermore, Luna would be disclosing many things to her father after that day, primarily about what she had been doing during her summer holidays – about her Necromancy training in the Guild. Xenophilius would not be happy about that but Orion was fairly certain that the man wouldn't be surprised that it came to happen. Luna's father evidently knew that the girl had been born with Necromantic abilities inherited from her mother.

Xenophilius had always kept it a secret from Luna, no doubt afraid that his daughter would experiment with Necromancy and end blowing herself up like his wife had done. But the man would surely see that it was best that Luna continued to be taught by the Guild now that the girl knew what she was, instead of still keeping her in the dark, since an untrained and unguided Necromancer was a danger to him or herself, as Xenophilius' wife had proven.

Apart from that wizard, others were also running for cover, mostly the elderly, some of whom fled into the Burrow. He saw that Hermione was one of those who were plastered against the outer wall of the house, pale faced, frantically casting shielding spells and with a vise-like clutch on Ron, to stop the boy from rushing into the fray.

Not that Ron was making it easy for her, the boy was struggling against her hold, bellowing and kicking. However, in the next second it seemed that Hermione struck him with a confundus charm or something of the sort, since the boy suddenly blinked dazedly and meekly stood behind her as she continued to protect them from ricocheting spells.

Not far from them, Mr. and Mrs. Delacour were huddled together with their youngest daughter, one of them having cast a sphere of shimmering magic which enveloped them and which made beams of curses bounce off.

All the rest were fighting in clusters spread throughout the lawn, among upturned tables, broken chairs and food platters, the wedding cake trampled under their feet.

The once Champions of the Triwizard Tournament had grouped together, with Cedric on the forefront since he was a young Auror, his girlfriend Cho Chang shielded behind him yet still helping by casting spells over Cedric's shoulder. Fleur was flanking him, her once pristinely white bridal gown torn and stained, with her new husband both fiercely fighting and also standing protectively by her side. And by their flank stood Viktor Krum, while they were all being engaged in battle by half of the Elite.

Evander was fighting side to side with his betrothed, both of them dueling with Krum who was angrily bellowing something in Bulgarian to his cousin and to which Kara was replying in kind, looking just as furious. Next to them, Titania and Wenceslas were engaging Bill Weasley and Fleur, and Alexios and Dravana were facing off Cedric and Cho.

A few feet away from them, the rest of the Elite was engaged in battle with Alastor Moody, who all of them knew to be the most dangerous target. The group composed by them was by far the largest one since Moody was being flanked by most of the able-bodied wedding guests, one of them being Arthur Weasley.

Along with Geodrof, Hector, Laiana, Artemisa, Viktor and Kasimir from the Elite, several of the young Death Eaters like Adrian Pucey, Marcus Flint and Max Montague were also battling against the light wizards flanking Moody, while the two older and experienced Death Eaters, Thorfinn and Avery, were directly dueling Moody, and evidently having some trouble keeping up with the powerful ex-Auror.

His father was also standing in the group flanking Moody, as Orion had instructed him to do, so that the former Auror would remember how Sirius had been 'helping' him. After all, up until then Moody still suspected Sirius to be a spy in their midst.

If the Elite's and Death Eaters' curses shot Sirius' way were mild ones that could be easily deflected or shielded against, or if Sirius' own spells were being slightly misaimed, certainly no one was noticing it in the midst of such havoc. His father was, by all appearances, fighting fiercely shoulder to shoulder with Mad-Eye Moody.

The rest of Death Eaters were scattered here and there, in duos or trios fighting against smaller clusters of light wizards and witches.

One of those small groups were composed by Charlie and the Weasley twins, with the latter apparently using a wide array of knickknacks of their own invention, since fireworks were sizzling through the air, puffs of black powder were intermittently thrown into the breeze, momentarily blinding those close by, and small explosions were blasting near Death Eater feet and resounding loudly.

Facing them was Bellatrix, cackling madly and clearly enjoying herself as she easily countered their attacks, like a sadistic cat cruelly playing with mice before wanting to dispatch them quickly as she could very well do if she wanted to, given that she was one of Voldemort's best and most powerful duelers. That was one of the reasons, after all, that she had become the first female Inner Circle Death Eater, and was still one of the few witches in the Dark Lord's ranks.

Suddenly, as Orion glanced to a side, he saw that one of the wedding guests had tried to fly away on a broom and was now falling down towards the ground like a knocked-out gnat, having evidently slammed into the ward Orion had cast.

He also saw a group of elderly wizards and witches coming out from the house, crying loudly about the blocked floo-connection. And he saw that those who had tried to run away from the place had been instantly zapped by the ward and presently laid unconscious on the grass.

Now that he was certain that no one would be able to flee and alert the Aurors or Ministry, he took the next step.

"Launch your attacks!" said Orion quickly, as he touched his throat to convey the message to Remus and Lezander at the same time that he briefly lowered his Occlumency shields to project the same to Voldemort.

He received their respective acknowledgements seconds before cries rose above all others.

"Gred!"

"My son – NO!"

Orion had a moment to glance to a side to see Bellatrix loudly cackling like a deranged hag as George Weasley flew backwards through the air, with blood spurting from one side of his head and apparently his ear hanging off by a mere thread of skin.

Fred and Charlie were rushing towards their brother as the twin struck ground, while Mrs. Weasley was running towards Bellatrix, aiming at the witch's back and looking like a fierce lioness protecting her cubs, with a sobbed war cry on her lips. And Bellatrix was still cackling gleefully, none the wiser, as a beam of light careened towards her from Mrs. Weasley's wand.

"Bella – to your left!" bellowed Orion urgently and with no small amount of anger. It would be the last straw - the shame that it would bring to Black House if the Weasley Matron, of all people, was the one who ended up dispatching Bellatrix.

Thankfully, his aunt swirled around and swiftly dodged the incoming spell, sneering hatefully and flicking her wand in the next second. Molly Weasley flew up into the air and flipped backwards with her robes rolling over her head. Before the chubby witch crashed against one of the sides of the Burrow, Orion impatiently flicked his Phoenix wand at her, casting a cushioning charm.

The last thing he wanted was for Mrs. Weasley ending up with her skull cracked or her neck snapped. Sirius could overlook such an inconsequential damage as the loss of an ear in one of the twins, but not the death of the Weasley Matron.

As the woman hit the wall and slumped unconsciously to the ground, he caught a glimpse of Arthur Weasley letting out an anguished cry as he rushed towards his wife.

But Orion soon forgot about the battles picking up in intensity around him as Bill and Charlie Weasley charged enraged towards Bellatrix. She could hold her own, and his focus returned back to the sphere of water high up in the sky when he felt his Death and Life wand vibrating in his right hand.

He didn't even need to prepare himself when it happened. The sphere of violently rolling waves of water seemed to condense and solidify, and in the next second it exploded outwards with a loud cracking sound, large stake-like shards of ice blasting forth.

As several spikes crashed into the layers of shields surrounding Orion, he heard several cries of pain behind him, undoubtedly from those who hadn't been quick enough to protect themselves. He took a defensive stance, with both of his wands drawn and aiming forward, as Arian floated back onto the ground.

The light wizard looked as well as ever. His torn pale blue robes were crusted with dried blood but it was evident that Arian had healed himself at some point. Nevertheless, the man wasn't acting as Orion had expected.

Arian took one cursory glance at the fights taking place several feet away from them, looking amused and then exasperated when he gazed back at him.

Orion's eyes narrowed to slits. He had been counting on Arian rushing to the light wizards' aid. He had been counting on threatening him with their death in order to make him go to the English Ministry of Magic where Voldemort would help in ambushing and capturing the light wizard.

Something must have showed in his face because Arian shook his head and chuckled.

"Were you expecting me to be a soft-hearted hero wanting to save them all, hmmm? I told you once that I'm not like any light wizard you have ever met, n'est ce pas?" He shot Orion a pearly-white, dazzling smile. "I will not rush to the rescue of those who are of little use to me. They are Albus' loyal pets, thus, they aren't worth my time and effort. One of them, though, is."

Orion frowned, before he scoffed snidely, a challenging tone lacing his voice, "So you're simply going to let my followers and I kill them?"

"Ah, but I don't think you plan on killing them at all," interjected Arian, his smile widening as he cocked his head to a side. "No, I think you only want to put them out of commission. Since if you're here, I surmise that Voldemort is staging a coup on the English Ministry of Magic as we speak."

"Then you should be heading there, don't you think?" said Orion coolly, still directly aiming at him. "Or will you do nothing while the Dark takes over England?"

"If taking hold of it is what it takes for you to feel confident enough to undergo the VA test, then, yes, I will do nothing and let you have your fun," quipped Arian as his azure blue eyes gleamed. "What is England but a small country in the whole, hmm?"

Suddenly, Orion felt something strange tickling his nose and he let out a scornful bark of laughter in the next second. "Your Veela thrall will not work on me this time."

"Found a spell to counteract it, hmm?" mused Arian, eyeing him with a disappointed look but still appearing unfazed by it.

The light wizard said nothing else and they stood gazing at each other, neither of them moving or speaking, in a kind of silent and bizarre stalemate while bellows of curses and cries of pain kept rising all around them.

Orion wished nothing else but to be able to see into the light wizard's thoughts. Arian was simply calmly regarding him without drawing out his wand, as if patiently waiting for something.

Bristling, Orion didn't think about it twice and instantly leapt towards him as he shot out a myriad of dark curses with his two wands. It soon became a parody of a duel, as Arian parried back by conjuring magical shields, dodged, or simply danced out of the way from the curses, never once going on an offensive mode, never even taking out his wand.

"Fight back!" roared Orion angrily when Arian once again swirled out of the way from one of his spells.

Arian chortled, evidently enjoying himself, and suddenly quickly disapparated when Orion rushed towards him in a flash of movement. Orion, tense and on guard, glanced around to see where the wizard had gone to.

It didn't surprise him that Arian was able to apparate even under the strong and powerful ward he had cast on the Burrow. Yet he still felt the wizard's presence – Arian hadn't left, and it made him wonder why. If the light wizard had no interest in helping out the Weasleys and the wedding guests, then why hadn't Arian fled already?

Then he remembered what the wizard had said, about one of them being of some worth to him. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, trying to ascertain who it could be from the many light wizards fighting against the Elite and Death Eaters – if he could figure that out, he could use it to make Arian bend to his will.

But he didn't have the chance to discern much from the fighting going on other than his forces seemed to be wearing out the light wizards. His Elite and the Death Eaters were now surrounding them and forcing them back to regroup and form a single cluster in the middle of the garden, the fighting light wizards protectively circling their fellows who had fallen and were groaning on the ground.

It happened so out of the blue and quickly, that Orion didn't see it coming and was momentarily startled. He heard a rustling sound coming from the patch of woods at his right, and suddenly several trees seemed to come alive, with roots for legs and branches for arms and they all rushed at him.

Orion instantly swished his two wands continuously, blasting them away, but they were so many, and more and more trees kept uprooting from the woods. It was like what Dumbledore had done with the gold statues of the Ministry of Magic – Transanimation, what Gellert had once explained to him.

It was an army of them now and he was hard tasked, even with his flash-like reflexes, to shred them all to pieces as all the trees scrambled towards him. He was almost being forced to retreat backwards, but he would have none of that and he quickly changed tactics, flicked his left wrist to make his Phoenix wand shoot back into its holster and then used his freed hand to blast out a surge of his raw dark magic in waves of black flames.

The leaves and branches of the animated trees instantly caught on fire, some teetering to the ground, others blazing in flames and still rushing towards him, which he summarily blasted to smithereens with his Death and Life wand.

At last, there was only one tree remaining, but this one suddenly halted a few feet away from him, something strange happening to it as it grew much larger and its roots, branches and trunk started to ripple, beginning to transform.

Orion's breath caught in his throat with grudging admiration of Arian's inherited and clearly fully mastered Transanimation ability. Now, where once the animated tree had stood, a full grown dragon had developed from it, letting out a roar of fire as it batted its gigantic scaled wings and flew up into the air, then diving downwards.

But it wasn't going for him, Orion realized immediately, but for those who were behind him – for the Elite, Death Eaters, and inevitably for the light wizards as well, given that they were all packed close together.

He knew it was a diversionary tactic, but there was little else he could do but get rid of it. Alarmed cries and screams were already resounding along with the frantic scramblings of everyone who was trying to get out of the way from the dragon's path of belched spurts of fire and clawed wings.

Without having the time to see where Arian was directing this new puppet of his from, he didn't waste a second and instantly pocketed his Death and Life wand and transformed into his Wyvern animagus form.

Feeling a rush of exhilaration, Firebreath took to the skies and soon circled around the dragon's head, effectively catching the beast's attention, which snapped its jaws at him and flicked its horned tail towards him. He deftly dodged the attacks and flew ahead of the creature to face it, meeting its gaze and quickly lowering his inner lids from his basilisk-like eyes.

In an instant, the dragon froze and the change rippled through its flesh. Starting from the head and ending at its tail, its scales hardened and turned gray, and from the outside in, it turned to stone. Finally, Firebreath swiped at the snout of statue-like creature with a clawed paw and it crumbled and burst into large, fractured blocks of stone.

The moment he touched ground again, Orion transformed back into himself with no small amount of satisfaction. He saw that his Elite and most of the Death Eaters had protected themselves, since they had all heard of, or knew first-hand, about what his wyvern form could do. Hence only some light wizards had been caught by the rain of stones, some having been knocked out and lying unconscious.

"Round them up again!" he barked urgently to his Elite as he touched his throat to convey the message.

And it was then, as he observed the Death Eaters and Elite fighting once more to force the light wizards into a group, discerning that two wizards from his forces had fallen at some point and seemed to be badly injured, when he finally found him.

Arian had just apparated by Alastor Moody's side, who was fiercely fighting back against Elite and Death Eaters alike and causing much trouble. With understanding suddenly dawning on him as he saw Arian saying something to which Moody seemed to angrily retort, he rushed forwards with a curse on his lips.

Abruptly, Arian glanced at him and something rocked under his feet when the light wizard waved a hand in his direction. Orion had a second to catch his balance when vines erupted from the ground and immediately wrapped around his legs, rooting him in place as they kept growing and enlarging like hands grasping at him.

With a roar of anger he blasted them away, but while some scorched and withered to dust many others kept shooting upwards and entwining around him. The second he thought he had easily disposed of all the thorny and grasping vines, it was too late. One last one had sprouted upwards with a white bud which instantly blossomed in front of his face.

Orion reeled backwards and quickly clamped his mouth shut when a puff of pollen came from the flower. But even though he sneezed and the spell he had cast on his nose protected him from it, he soon realized his mistake when he felt some of it getting into his eyes, which started burning and leaking tears.

The flower withered and fell, having done its task, though the vine remained and gently wrapped around him as he swayed on his feet, feeling light-headed and dizzy while his vision became foggy. And as he was being cradled by the vine, which stopped him from stumbling to the ground, he blurrily saw Arian placing a hand on Moody's shoulder and the ex-Auror disappeared with a last angered yell of protest.

Orion blamed himself for not having realized it before. Of course that from all the Order members Arian would have considered Moody to be of some worth and made the decision to steal one of Albus' followers for his own group.

According to what Sirius had told him a while ago, Moody was one of the few who had the backbone to openly doubt or criticize Albus' decisions and plans during the Order meetings of the past, if the man felt that Dumbledore was making a mistake. And Moody often pushed for harder and more ruthless measures with which to oppose the Dark.

And now, there was no doubt that Arian had marked Moody as an Illuminati at some point and had just forced the man into an disapparition to save him.

Suddenly, while his mind swarmed slowly, he felt someone apparating behind him and soon an arm wrapped around his chest and another around his waist as a mouth breathed into his ear, "Don't be angry at me, my nemesis. You put up a good show. It was fun, hmm?"

Orion remained silent as he choked on his rage. And he was even more angered when Arian's hands brushed along his chest while the wizard kept embracing him from behind – it wasn't the hold of an enemy, it was that of a lover, and it made Orion inwardly spit with furious indignation since it felt like a mockery to him. Arian simply had no right to do something like that.

"You want me to go to the English Ministry, n'est ce pas?" murmured Arian, brushing his lips on the shell of Orion's ear, making him angrily cringe away to which the light wizard chuckled with seemingly benevolent amusement. "I'll play along, then. I'll grasp the opportunity to do something there. And I'll wait for you." He paused and then added with a tone which sounded playful and petulant to Orion, "I'll be bored until you arrive. You won't take long, will you, hmm?"

The wizard then remained silent, obviously waiting for an answer of some sort. And Orion gave it to him, but certainly not how the light wizard was expecting. He simply gathered all the concentration he could muster and allowed his dark magic to flow outwards will all the rage he felt.

He did it just how Gellert had helped him to master, without forcing his raw magic into taking the form of any element but allowing it to do what he willed to happen. He wanted to smother Arian until the light wizard blacked out and loss consciousness, and his dark magic shot forth in a thundering whirlwind of blackness which soon turned into large, ghost-like hands. The black skeletal fingers instantly rushed over Orion's shoulder.

A startled and strangled wheeze came from behind him, and Arian's arms around him tensed rigidly before they fell away, as the light wizard chocked out, "Don't - you fool!"

Finally free from the vine and the wizard's arms, Orion swirled around to face him, as steadily as he could, and caught sight of Arian's pale face and gaping mouth as the wizard's fingers scratched his throat as if trying to claw at the ghostly gnarled fingers that were strangling him – attempting and failing to dispel Orion's dark magic.

In the next bat of the eyelash, Arian was gone, but Orion didn't even attempt to prevent it. For once, he didn't feel at all upset but rather excited. He had the evidence now that Arian was vulnerable to his raw dark magic.

He had feared that the wizard wouldn't be, already being the Vindico Lumen and all. But it was clear that even though he wasn't the VA yet, he could match Arian at least when he directly used his raw dark magic in its wild form. It was good to know and it certainly immensely satisfied him.

The effects of the pollen seemed to vanish seconds after Arian's departure, and Orion staggered for a moment at the abrupt change, as he felt his mind becoming clear and sharp again.

And he didn't waste another second. He momentarily lowered his Occlumency shields, and said urgently in his mind, "Arian's going to the English Ministry. Alert me when you see him."

A hiss he supposed he had to consider as acquiescence reverberated in his mind before Voldemort's voice demanded sharply, _"How much longer will it take you to finish there?"_

Orion turned around and gazed at the fight before him. It was no longer a battle but a skirmish. Without Moody amongst them, the light wizards didn't stand a chance and since many had fallen already they were vastly outnumbered at present.

Indeed, the only ones who still stood fighting were Charlie and Bill Weasley, along with Sirius who continued playing his part, and Cedric. An exhausted-looking and apparently badly injured Krum was in that moment being magically bound by the synchronized joint effort of Evander and Kara. And just as he was observing the group, a beam of light from Titania's wand struck Cedric and seemingly rendered him unconscious, the curse clearly having been cast with the ease of an experienced dueler.

Orion smiled proudly at that. Titania was decidedly the best fighter among his Elite, having graduated from Durmstrang a while ago with top marks in her PRIMEs and in her second year of her Mastership in the Dark Arts under Romulus Rosier's tutelage.

"We're almost done here," he said in his mind as he slowly started approaching them. "How long the rest takes me depends on Remus and Lezander. How is it going on your end?"

"_That question doesn't merit an answer, my little serpent,"_ hissed Voldemort's voice caustically before it was laced with smug self-satisfaction. _"But if you must know, several floors are already under my control. My Death Eaters are dealing with the Auror Department and I'll soon be taking care of Scrimgeour."_

"See you in a few, then," said Orion. He paused and then added warningly, "And be on guard about Arian! Don't underestimate him, you hear?"

An irritated hiss reverberated in his mind along with a sharp twinge of pain blossoming on his scar, and with that, Voldemort closed off their connection.

Orion rubbed his forehead with annoyance as he slammed up his Occlumency shields. He made his way towards the fight but stopped along the way when he finally saw who among his force had fallen, and his mood soured.

The Death Eater Max Montague was a few feet away from the main skirmish, lying on the ground as pale as a ghost, with eyes closed and unmoving. Andrew Pucey and Marcus Flint, the boy's friends from Slytherin House, weren't with him. Not that it surprised him, Voldemort had instilled in his Death Eaters the rule about not taking care of fallen comrades if a fight was still going on – the Dark Lord punished anyone who did.

Laiana from the Elite was the only with him, crouching by his side as she forced a healing potion down the throat of the unconscious older boy. Orion was grateful that she had taken such initiative. The quiet girl was very talented in the Healing Arts, and even though Montague wasn't his responsibility, he rather not have any loses.

"What happened?" he asked as he stood by their side.

"Moody struck him with some curse, I saw it," said Laiana quietly as she frowned and passed her wand over the Slytherin's body.

Orion frowned as he eyed the boy. "Will he make it?"

"I think…" she trailed off as Montague glowed red in the second passing of her wand. She pressed her lips into a thin line. "That means no. He has died, my Lord."

Orion's jaw clenched as she rose to her feet, dusting off her robes. Laiana shot him a glance. "I can take his body back."

"Do it, then come back again," he said curtly.

She cast a levitation charm on Montague's body and then glanced over her shoulder as she murmured quietly, her voice tense, "You should see how he's doing, my Lord."

Orion followed the direction of her gaze and quickly left her without saying another word when he saw who the second injured wizard was.

Alexios was cradling Wenceslas' head on his lap as he tipped a healing potion vial to the boy's lip. Wenceslas, who had always been very proud and vain about his good-looks, had a gaping wound running from his forehead to his chin, crossing over his left eye which was closed shut, swelled and looking ghastly.

"Who did that?" he demanded sharply as Alexios glanced up at him.

"Bill Weasley," replied the delicate-looking boy in his soft, cultured voice. It was clear that Alexios, ever the brainy and intellectual one of the Elite, usually regarding everything with an analytical and coldly detached mind behind his deceptively soft-looking appearance, was deeply concerned about his closest friend.

Orion grimaced as he glanced at Wenceslas' face. "Will he lose the eye?"

Wenceslas visibly tensed and then said wryly, though his expression was stiff with dread, "It will make me look more interesting, won't it?"

Alexios paled and gazed up at Orion as he muttured quietly, "I don't know, my Lord. May I…?"

The boy trailed off uncertainly, but the plea was clear on his face and Orion nodded at him. "Take him back to Malfoy Manor and have the healer there work on him." He glanced at the fray but a few feet away from them, and then gazed back at the boy. "You can stay with him if you want. There isn't much else for you to do here."

Looking grateful and relieved, Alexios let out an exhalation of breath before he started to gently help up Wenceslas to his feet. The three of them were startled when a cry rose above all others.

"Aunt Muriel!" someone shouted with alarm.

Orion glanced around to see an old witch coming towards him, with a raised wand while she precariously rushed forward by supporting herself with a cane. She looked like a possessed harridan, her wrinkled face etched with hatred and desperation, and he didn't think about it twice.

He calmly aimed at her and spat, "Avada Kedavra!"

With a flash of green, she dropped to the ground while cries rose from the Weasley bunch, which caused of surge of satisfaction to swell up in him. So he had just disposed of a relative – better and better. Sparing Weasley relatives was not part of the deal he had with his father.

"That was an eye for an eye," he stated loudly and angrily, as he shot Bill Weasley a hard glance and gestured at the wounded Wenceslas.

And it truly was, in his opinion. To end the life of an old light witch foolish enough to attempt to have a go at him was a just retribution for the possible loss of an eye of one of his Elite. Of course, he would have much rather preferred to take vengeance on Bill, who had caused Wenceslas' injury in the first place, but killing the Weasley was not something his father would forgive in this occasion.

As for poor Montague, alas, Moody was gone and Romulus and Calypso had a greater claim on the life of the ex-Auror than he did.

And to his satisfaction, it seemed that his nonchalant display of his willingness to kill put somewhat of a damper in the counterattacks of the remaining light wizards fighting.

The moment Alexios disapparated away with Wenceslas, Orion thought that it was time to put closure to their attack, since almost all the light wizards were incapacitated already, which was the whole purpose.

He approached them and finally put to use the nonverbal spell he had been tweaking a while back to make it able to affect several people at the same time and thus making Snape's spell more useful for battle.

Orion swished his wand in the air in a knot-like pattern encompassing those before him, and then bellowed in his mind, 'Levicorpus!'

They flew up in the air, dangling from their ankles and issuing alarmed or startled cries. Orion soon cast the same spell repeatedly, aiming at those remaining: at Xenophilius, Hermione and Ron, and the Delacours with their little daughter who had kept themselves away from the fight all along, as well as at the knocked out wizard who had attempted to fly away on a broom, those who had tried to run away, and all others who were lying unconscious here and there.

Once every light wizard and witch was hovering in mid air, injured, unconscious or still with a spark of fight in them, he waved his Phoenix wand towards them, instantly accioing towards him all their wands. With several more flicks, he made the wands drop far away on the ground and warded the pile against summoning charms from their owners.

"Be ready, Tita!" he barked without looking at her, maintaining all of them floating in the air with his Death and Life wand before he made them drop in a heap of entangled limbs.

Titania acted then, casting the spell they had previously agreed on. In a burst of silver light, a magical cage trapped them all together inside. Those conscious groaned, grunted and moaned, as they scrambled to their feet, with only enough room to barely stand.

It was then that Orion saw a most curious and enlightening interaction. Krum, who was still bounded by the spell Evander and Kara had shot at him, was staring at Xenophilius' chest, his lips thinning with anger. The Bulgarian Seeker was eyeing the pendant Luna's father was wearing –evidently thinking that it was simply Grindelwald's mark- and Orion finally understood why Luna hadn't been at all surprised when he had revealed to his Elite how the Tale of the Three Brothers was really about the Peverells and the Hallows.

Though it was clear that Xenophilius didn't know what else was behind that tale, or the symbol, since Luna had seemed interested as much as startled when Orion had disclosed that 'Death' had really been Morgana's spirit and that the Hallows were not just unique magical artifacts but the tools for the Dark's prophet, for the VA.

Suddenly, he was pulled out of his musings when his father raced forwards and fiercely grasped the glowing grey bars.

"You're no son of mine!" spat Sirius, his face contorting with disgust, hatred and anguish.

Orion could have clapped at his performance, even though the man wasn't exactly following the script they had devised. He inwardly rolled his eyes - his father did have a flare for the dramatic. Well, so did he if it came to that.

"And you're a traitor to your own kind and family!" he snarled at Sirius, aiming his wand at him. "Next time you dare take the Light's side against me in a fight, I'll kill you."

And without a pause, he slashed his wand at the wizard and irately yelled a curse. A gaping wound tore open along his father's chest as he went flying back into the cluster of caged light wizards, and Orion hoped that would be enough to imprint forever in their minds the supposed irrevocable 'enmity' between him and his dad.

"Your own father!" cried Mrs. Weasley, crouching by Sirius' side and pulling the poor man to her bosom as she frantically and messily tried to help him.

"Don't fuss, Molly," croaked out Sirius, attempting to feebly bat her away with a hand.

Orion merely observed with concealed amusement how it all proceeded according to plan – after all, Sirius had a healing potion in his pocket which he would soon be imbibing the moment no one glanced his way.

Arthur Weasley, with a pale and grim expression on his face, aided his wife in halting the blood flow that surged from Sirius' chest, both of them pressing their hands on the wound as Bill tore a piece of fabric from his robes and began to tie it around Sirius' torso with a tight knot. It seemed he had also been the one to do the same for George at some point during the fight.

In a few moments, after more insistence from Sirius' part, the three Weasleys left him alone to go back to George, who was being already looked after by his other siblings. Molly wasted no time in cradling her injured son, sobbing as she tenderly fingered the dressed wound at the side of the twin's head.

The second he saw his father roll to a side as if to relieve his body from the pain he felt, all the while taking a swift and covert sip from a small potion flask, Orion went for the last finishing touch.

He extended a hand before him and tapped it with his wand as he murmured an incantation. The Death Eaters and his Elite took several steps back while a powdery ball materialized on his palm, and he brought his lips close to it and blew over it. Puffs of purple fog breezed into the cage and swirled around the imprisoned wizards, who didn't have a moment to react since in the following second they all dropped heavily asleep.

Bellatrix was eyeing the slumbering light wizards and witches with a hungry expression on her face, her fingers jerkily caressing her wand, and Orion knew she was simply twitching to kill them all. He was actually amazed that she had restrained herself up to that point and followed the plan without attempting to 'accidentally' dispose of anyone.

"Save it for the last battle, Aunt," he said to her curtly. "We need some light wizards to rule over in the mean time, don't we? Now go to your Lord. We're done here."

Bellatrix shot him a sneer, but wasted no time in disapparating, instantly followed by all the other Death Eaters, no matter is some of them did have some injuries which should be tended to, in his opinion.

Without having to say a word to them, his Elite gathered around him and he quickly touched his throat to communicate with Lezander and Remus. He had a couple of things to do before he could go to the English Ministry of Magic.

He could only hope that Arian would take some while before popping there. Though he had to wonder why the light wizard hadn't already. He had no doubt that Voldemort would have alerted him if the wizard had made an appearance.

It only left the most logical conclusion – Arian was up to some improvised plan of action for which he needed some preparation.

* * *

Just a couple of minutes had passed since they had apparated away from the Burrow and into wizarding Dublin. At the entrance of the Irish Ministry of Magic, Amadine had been waiting for them to escort them inside.

Orion had almost gawked at her. He had known that most werewolves would be taking the potion Snape had created in order to transform during a non-full-moon day, but he hadn't expected how they would look – how she, most particularly, looked.

Amadine wasn't a beautiful woman, she was plain-looking and had several scars on her face which he knew had to be from all the fights she must have gone through in order to attain the position as the Alpha of her packs in France. And being female, the competition must have been twice as hard than if she had been a male.

Yet, as a werewolf transformed by the potion, she was breath-taking. Standing and prowling forward on her rear legs, the paws of her front legs being like furred clawed hands on arms, and with a large head of a wolf, she was gorgeous. Her fur was white and soft looking, and the many scarred and furless lines that ran along her snout and body didn't make her any less beautiful.

Orion was at the head of his Elite, matching Amadine's long, prowling strides as the female werewolf guided them through many halls in order to reach the Ministry's highest level. As they took the lifts, passed through corridors and turned around corners, Orion caught sight of what remained of Ireland's Ministry officials.

Some floors were littered with ravaged bodies, with marks of claws and fangs having ripped throats and torn flesh. Those who had survived the werewolf attack on their Ministry by surrendering, were pressed against the walls with transformed werewolves snapping their jaws at them to keep them cowering and in place.

Orion barely paid attention to them, but he did pause briefly when they reached the highest level and saw a bunch of werewolves snarling at a large group of small ugly green creatures they had boxed in a corner.

Suddenly, a golden glowing globe materialized before him, it hovered in mid air, sparkling and glittering and Orion's gaze was immediately riveted on it. He stared at it mesmerized, inexorably pulled towards it as it started floating to a side, and he took a step to follow the marvelous thing.

He wanted to reach it, he needed to touch it. It was of the utmost importance, it was vital that he followed it-

Abruptly, he was brusquely yanked back by a clawed, furred hand, and Orion blinked at Amadine, feeling as if he had suddenly been broken out from a trance.

Harsh jeering, mocking and high-pitched guffaws reached his ears and he glanced at the small ugly creatures entrapped by the werewolves.

"They are…" trailed off Orion, glancing at Amadine with befuddlement as he shook his head to clear it further from the enchantment the globe had seemed to spin around him.

"Leprechauns, yes," said the female Alpha, her voice coming out guttural and growling from her jaws. "They caught us by surprise. It seems the Ministry had an agreement with the leprechaun population of Ireland, in case their country was attacked by foreign forces." She peeled her lips back from her fangs, looking like a grinning wolf, if that was possible. "Didn't do them much good. Leprechauns could have easily ensnared a bunch of wizards but their tricks have no effect on our kind."

Orion opened his mouth but then shut it close in the next moment when Amadine pushed him forward, his Elite silently following as voices came out from an office a few feet away from them.

"Patrick Connolly, ain't it? A fellow Irishman attacking his own Ministry – it should shame ye, lad."

A short-tempered growl accompanied a heated reply, "I stopped bein' Irish the moment I was turned into a werewolf."

"If yer father and mother could see ye now, Patrick... The disgrace ye're bringing upon 'em-"

"Don't dare speak to me 'bout my former family, wizard – they're nothin' to me, and my parents have always supported the Dark – no matter how many donations they've made to keep up appearances-"

"The Connollys have always supported my tenure as Minister, lad! Don't taint their good reputation and name-"

"Let's cut through the bullshit, O'Rourke," said a harsh, growling voice which Orion immediately recognized as Greyback's. "We've taken over your Ministry. If you want us to spare those who have survived, then yield, wizard."

"Yield? Never! Under whose orders have you done this-"

"The Dark Lord's and-"

"Then I will only deal with him, not with underlings and savage beasts-"

Enraged growls and snarls erupted like wildfire, and Orion instantly yanked the door open and calmly strode into the crowded office, Amadine and his Elite at his heels.

"You must have a death wish, insulting those who have you in their mercy," he said coolly as he gauged the situation.

It looked as if a small battle had taken place in the Minister's office. Several wizards in Aurors robes were lying on the floor, with throats torn or chests ripped open, unequivocally dead. Circling the Minister's desk were several transformed werewolves. He recognized Wulfric by his black fur and enormous size - the Russian Alpha, transformed, was even taller and larger than Greyback, and that was saying something.

Wulfric, like three other werewolves who had to be the Alphas of continental Europe who always kowtowed to the man, were standing on their hind legs and gripping their wands, aimed at the Irish Minister, in their clawed and furred hands.

Unlike them, Connolly and Greyback, also transformed, were on four legs without using wands but with their jaws snapping and their snouts snarling at the Minister who stood behind his desk.

Greyback was unmistakable given his size and silver hued grey fur. And next to him stood Remus, who evidently had been the only one who hadn't taken the potion to transform into his werewolf form.

All of them were now gazing at him as he took the steps to stand before the desk, locking his gaze with the Minister's. The wizard, whom he knew to be Regan O'Rourke, a light halfblood who had made his way up in the ministerial ranks by sheer talent, shrewdness and brains, looked stern and regal, with the confident airs of one who had held political power for very long and who was beloved and trusted by his people.

Even if the man was surrounded by the fallen bodies of his Aurors and by menacing enemies, even if there was a wand on the desk that had been broken into two, which was undoubtedly his, and even if the man looked very old, withered and exhausted, O'Rourke still made an impressive picture.

"Orion Black," said the wizard in his heavily accented voice, his expression hardening. "Aye, lad, I recognize yer face from newspapers. I should've known ye're behind this atrocity."

"I am, as is the Dark Lord, as Greyback informed you," said Orion impassively, holding the man's hazel gaze. "You wanted to deal with the leader of this coup, so you will deal with me."

"For the terms of my surrender?" demanded O'Rourke, his eyes narrowing to slits, closely scrutinizing him.

"So to speak," said Orion coolly, as he plucked out a scroll from his pocket and offered it to the Irish Minister.

O'Rourke suspiciously eyed the scroll before he took it from Orion's hand, unrolling it. The wizard's wrinkled face paled dramatically as he read the document, and soon the old man plopped down on his armchair, taking a deep intake of breath.

Orion knew very well what the wizard was seeing in the scrolled parchment – it was a magical contract, devised by Voldemort and him, already bearing their signatures and awaiting for the Minister's. It entailed all the terms and conditions a Minister had to follow once signed, or else lose his life or magic depending on the terms breached.

In short, it was a document that would chain the Irish Ministry to England's, once the latter was taken over by the Dark, so that the Irish Ministry followed the line, edicts and laws of an England ruled by the Dark, with him and Voldemort being the direct overlords behind the scenes.

"And if I don't sign this?" croaked out the Minister, looking as if he had suddenly aged a century more.

"You'll be killed, we'll choose someone else from your Ministry to become the new Minister, put him under the Imperius Curse and have him act as a mere puppet," said Orion pleasantly, widely smiling at the man. "And of course, we'll kill all of those who remain loyal to you in this Ministry. On the other hand, if you agree to the terms and sign the contract, there will be no more deaths and we will have no need to imperio you, thus you'll be able to exert and retain some measure of control and decision-making power regarding the affairs of your country."

"But not true political independence, lad," spat O'Rourke, piercing him with a sharp gaze. "I'll be a mere figurehead, with ye and Ye-Know-Who pulling my strings and controlling my Ministry."

"As I said," retorted Orion curtly, "you'll have some leeway as long as you follow the terms."

Briefly, resignation and despair crossed over the wizard's aged features. In the next second, the Minister's prominent, square jaw clenched and the man briskly grabbed one of the quills lying on his desk.

"For my country and people, I do this, lad," said O'Rourke harshly, with a hard expression on his face as he quickly signed the magical contract, as if he didn't want to look at it or even remain in its presence a second longer.

The very instant the signature was written, the contract flashed brightly and the parchment rolled itself back into a scroll. Orion wasted no time in pocketing it, and he widely smiled at the wizard with supreme satisfaction.

"You've made the correct decision, Minister."

O'Rourke shot him a glance of pure loathing, and then quietly and fixedly stared at the top of his desk, his shoulders slumping with defeat and looking as if he had just signed a pact with the devil.

Orion didn't bother saying anything else and he gestured at everyone to follow him as he strode out of the Minister's office.

"It's done," breathed out Remus by his side, looking tired and also mightily glad that his part in the affair was over.

Orion glanced at him and the other Alphas as they made their way along the corridor. "Almost. You'll need to dispose of the bodies and clean up the place. And you have to make every Ministry official that remains take an Oath of Secrecy. No one must find out what happened here."

Remus nodded at him, and soon, he, Wulfric, and the other Alphas took leave of him to command their packs and follow his orders.

With a wide smirk on his face, Orion glanced at his Elite as he extended out his arms for them to grab. "One last stop, my friends. Come, Lez is waiting for us."

Chuckling, or smirking just as joyfully as him, the Elite took hold of his arms and he instantly plunged them into a side-along apparition into Zraven Citadel.

* * *

"Point me Lezander," murmured Orion to his Death and Life wand which he had on his open palm.

Previously, they had landed in Zraven Citadel's Throne Hall, where Calypso and Draco had been standing next to Lezander's parents and where many other vampires had congregated, awaiting news and to receive their fighters when they got back.

Nevertheless, Orion had merely nodded at Mireilla and Râzvan, without pausing to explain much, in order to take his Elite through the vanishing cabinet that stood in the middle of the Throne Hall as quickly as possible.

They had appeared at the other end, stepping out from the other cabinet in a deserted corridor of the Ministry of Magic of Scotland.

At present, with the three-dimensional map of the Scottish Ministry propped in his other hand, Orion observed how his wand spun on his palm and then he followed the direction it pointed towards while he now and then glanced at the map.

Cheers received him and his Elite as they made their way along the corridors. The vampires of the Zraven Force waved at him or saluted with expressions of triumph on their faces. Indeed, like in Dublin, there in Edinburgh, it looked as if it had been a complete victory, catching everyone in Scotland's Ministry of Magic by surprise.

There had been casualties, of course. Bodies beheaded by sword or sucked dry by vampires were scattered here and there, but there weren't as many dead as in O'Rourke's Ministry.

Even his Elite -with the exception of Alexios and Wenceslas who hadn't returned from Malfoy Manor, making Orion hope that the healer there could save Wencelas' eye on time- were animatedly talking with each other as they went further into the depths of the Ministry, seeing the evidence of a won battle.

At last, he folded the map and pocketed it when they reached the office labeled as the Minister's on the map.

With the Elite flanking him with wands in hand, Orion stepped inside the room. What welcomed him there rather surprised him. The only vampires in the office were Lezander and Cyprian, with their wands and swords drawn, and with their Zraven uniform of crimson dragon scales stained with dried blood and their faces looking feral.

Both of them were heavily breathing, their pupils blown, Lezander's irises a sliver of pale blue circling dilated black pupils as his nostrils kept flaring. Cyprian looked much the same, both of their lips with incisors peeking out were stained with blood.

Orion realized by their expressions that they had to be experiencing bloodlust. It didn't surprise him, since the smell of shed blood was even tickling his very own nose, making him unwittingly lick his lips.

And he had to pause to gaze at Lezander with unbridled admiration, since he had never seen him in such an unrepressed wild state. He had to admit to be feeling a sudden surge of lust for the way the young vampire Rege was looking.

Both vampires glanced at him as he made his way inside the office and he had to be blind not to notice the hunger and desire in Lezander's eyes as the vampire's gaze roved over him.

He shot him a knowing smirk and then focused on the two wizards in the office. There were no dead bodies lying around, but there had been a pile outside in the corridor, undoubtedly those who had defended the Minister's office from attack.

His attention was first drawn to a thin wizard with sunken cheeks and crooked nose cowering at one corner, the man's expression was wild and terrified as his gaze frenziedly swiveled from vampire to vampire, and then to him.

"O- Orion Bla-Black!" choked out the wizard, his wand dropping from his trembling hand as he pressed himself further into the corner, as if he wished he would be swallowed by it.

Orion shot him a sharp smile. "The one and only."

"Angus!" roared the wizard standing behind the desk, glancing at his compatriot with utterly disgusted disappointment and contempt.

Orion understood why, since the so-called Angus' wand clattered to the floor, instantly being grasped by Cyprian in a flash of movement, while the wizard who had shouted the name had obviously been rid from his wand at some point. Due to Angus' fear, the light wizards had just lost any means of protection they had.

Finally, Orion's gaze zeroed in on the man behind the desk, who had to be the Scottish Minister, and he cocked his head to a side, regarding him closely.

The wizard looked as he imagined a Scotsman ought to be – stout, fierce, tough-looking, with the appearance of a warrior, with very short, cropped grey hair, and a stance of utter self-confidence, strength and commanding presence.

"You must surmise what is going on," said Orion with a wide smile, as took out the signed scroll and snapped his wrist to have it unroll before the man's eyes, displaying O'Rourke's signature on it. "Ireland is ours already. Now, it's your turn."

The Minister said nothing and merely gazed at him with a stony expression on his face.

Unfazed, Orion shot him a toothy grin as he tucked the scroll back into his pocket. "The United Kingdom is falling into the Dark's hands, Minister. Of course, we want it to proceed as peacefully as possible-"

"And England?" demanded the Minister sternly, skewering him with a scrutinizing, searching gaze.

With his grin stretching from ear to ear, Orion replied pleasantly, "Lord Voldemort and his followers are taking over the English Ministry of Magic as we speak."

He had to give it to the man, the wizard didn't even flinch at the Dark Lord's name, though Angus did. The cowering wizard squeaked like a squashed mouse and trembled as he closed his eyes.

Orion didn't pay him any attention, and remained solely focused on the Minister. "Of course, we're treading carefully and wisely. No one will know what has happened in the Ministries-"

"People will know," interrupted the Minister sharply. "People will find out and light wizards will not stand for it-"

"Oh, yes, yes," interjected Orion with a dismissive wave of a hand. "We're counting on it, to have some… 'rebels' popping up. I've taken measures to ensure it will happen." He shot the man a wide smirk. "It's all part of our plan, you see. The vast majority will not know the truth, they will merely speculate in fearful whispers without daring to do anything. The media, of course, will print and broadcast what we want them to say. So all in all, this will be a silent coup, seen as a mere transition by those outside the Ministries."

"I'm not afraid of you," stated the Minister in a gruff, deep voice, staring at him calmly as he pulled himself up to his full height, his prideful chin jutting out and lifting. "I am Donnan Galloway of the Clan Douglas and the House of Stuart. I come from a line of warriors and a line of kings. I've been the Minister of this country before you were even a tingle in your father's balls, boy. My forefathers have been the sworn protectors of this land since the day we won our freedom in 1314 at the Battle of Bannockburn under Robert the Bruce's leadership. My Clan has seen dark wizards like you come and go, and every time, my ancestors have driven the likes of you away."

"Am I supposed to be cowed?" said Orion coolly, as he twirled his wand between his fingers. "Or perhaps awed?"

Galloway narrowed his eyes and said once again in a steely tone of voice, "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then you're a fool," retorted Orion sharply, his eyes narrowing impatiently. "However impressive your lineage is, and however powerful you undoubtedly are, the fact remains that you're here, wandless and without anyone to help you. You're a light Minister whose Ministry has been taken. This is a fight the Douglases and Stuarts have lost, isn't it?"

He pierced him with his emerald gaze and added shortly, "You have two choices: yield to be under the Dark's rule or death. What will it be, Galloway?"

The wizard pulled himself up to his impressive full height, locked his gaze with Orion's and squared his shoulders, as he said solemnly, "I rather die – with my honor and conscience intact."

"As you wish," said Orion with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, and at once aimed his wand at the man. "Avada Kedavra!"

With a blast of green light, Galloway hit the back of his chair, his lifeless body crumbling on the seat as Orion watched impassively.

Suddenly, he caught a whiff of a stench and his nose scrunched with disgust as he saw a wet stain spreading on Angus' robes. The wizard had lost control of his bladder, not that the man seemed to notice, he looked to be hyperventilating and about to faint as he gazed at Galloway's lifeless body. But there wasn't grief or sorrow in the man's expression, but clear fear for his own life.

Orion swallowed his contempt and demanded curtly, "And you are?"

"Th- the.. the…" stammered the wizard, looking terrified and out of his wits. The man loudly gulped and attempted to speak a second time. "I am the- the-"

Orion arched an eyebrow at Lezander, who replied huskily, "He's Angus MacDuff, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister."

"Ah, perfect," said Orion placidly as he sharply smiled at the wizard. "You won't be as foolish as your former boss, will you?"

The man frantically shook his head, heavily breathing with panicked gasps for air as his terrified gaze flickered from Orion to Lezander and back.

"Excellent," said Orion softly as he took out from his pocket a second scroll, unrolled it and laid it on the desk. "Then congratulations are in order. You have just been promoted to Minister of Magic of Scotland." He gestured at the magical contract and pierced him with a threatening gaze. "That is, if you sign this. You will, won't you?"

"Y-yes," stuttered the wizard as he repeatedly cleared his throat, without even looking at the magical document.

"Good man," said Orion pleasantly while he went around the desk.

He gazed at Galloway's body and shook his head. It was a pity. But the man had been a fool - Galloway would have best served his country by living and continue being a Minister under the Dark's thumb. A wizard like that wouldn't have been a cringing puppet. He would have done the best for his kind and country with what he was allowed to do. Foolish man – honor, conscience and pride, indeed.

Orion propped a foot on the dead body of the former Minister and shoved it with a hard push of his boot.

The corpse made a dull thudding noise as it landed on the floor, and he was soon steering MacDuff to take a seat on the vacated chair. The man was wildly trembling now, but Orion paid it no mind as he placed a quill in MacDuff's hand, pushed the man's fingers to close around it and brought the wizard's tremulous hand to the document.

MacDuff paled even further and his eyes widened as he scanned the words on the magical contract, and then looking up at Orion with horror and petrified dismay. It only took Orion an arching of an eyebrow and the wizard gulped and then jerkily signed the parchment with a shaky hand, as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

The signature flashed red for a second, before the parchment flew up into the air and rolled itself with a blaze of bright silver light.

Orion caught the scroll in mid air and instantly pocketed it. He flashed a wide grin at MacDuff and patted the wizard's shoulder. "It's been a pleasure, Minister."

The man mumbled something or other and slumped on his armchair, repeatedly dabbing a handkerchief on his sweaty thin face, letting out a tremulous exhalation of relief, like a starved pig who had been miraculously saved from the slaughter house and couldn't quite believe his good luck.

"Pathetic," hissed Orion under his breath the moment they left the office. "I rather have Albus Dumbledore himself on the Scottish Minister's seat than that spineless little worm who didn't think twice about betraying his fellow countryman to save his own hide. He will have to be killed and replaced at some point."

"I don't like him either," murmured Lezander, reaching out to trail his fingertips along Orion's neck, his breathing still coming out heavy and husky, "but MacDuff is exactly the kind of puppet figurehead that Voldemort wants in a Ministry, dragostea mea. We all know that."

Orion shot Lezander a glance and said crisply, "I have as much say as he does about who we place in positions of power. And I want that man to be disposed of." His expression hardened and he bit out, "He's a Peter Pettigrew."

He knew that MacDuff wouldn't be able to breach the terms of the contract he had signed, but vermin like that always found a way of changing sides as many times as it took to save his own position or life. When it came to people like MacDuff, the saying 'once a traitor, always a traitor' rang true.

The man was clearly a self-interested bureaucrat bent on increasing and protecting his power, and if it entailed the detriment of the public at large, the wizard obviously couldn't care less.

He peeled his gaze away from Lezander, since the vampire's touches and bloodlust state was beginning to affect him as well, and at the moment, quenching his desire wasn't something he could indulge in unless he took Lezander right then and there in sight of everyone, and he didn't have the time for it nor would the vampire agree to that, alas. Pulling out from all the images he was picturing of what he would be doing to Lezander that night, he eyed his Elite with a considering gaze, determining who would be best for the task.

At last, he shot Kasimir a pointed glance and ordered swiftly, "Look into it, Kas. Ask around. See who remains in this Ministry that is of some worth and would be amenable to replace MacDuff."

"I will, my Lord," said Kasimir instantly, giving him a low bow before he sprang ahead and took a corridor.

Orion glanced back at Lezander, who was as always flanked by a silent, efficient and ever-alert Cyprian. "You know what your vampires have to do now, don't you?"

"Yes, dragostea mea," said Lezander, softly smiling at him as his fingers lingered in a suggestive caress on the crook of Orion's neck.

"Stop it. There'll be time for that later," said Orion with a chuckle, batting the vampire's hand away. He regained a serious expression, and added curtly, "When you're done go to Malfoy Manor. We're all meeting back there." He couldn't help it and widely smiled at him. "To celebrate if all goes well." Then he smugly patted his pocket containing the two signed scrolls. "Only Scrimgeour is left now - finally!"

Lezander opened his mouth, but then paused, a concerned frown spreading on his handsome face. "What about Arian? You said he-"

"I don't know yet," interrupted Orion shortly, "but there's nothing you can do about it. Finish here and meet me at Malfoy Manor. Bring all the vampires you want." He grinned at him. "Remus and the Alphas are going to do the same. What a celebration of our smashing victory it will be!"

And with that, he quickly pulled his Elite to a side, leaving Lezander and Cyprian free to go back to their fighters and deal with the remaining Ministry officials.

With a wide, excited smile on his face, and issuing a barked command, the Elite regrouped around him as he held the Black Heir ring portkey in his hand, which would immediately take them all to Voldemort's side.

The last news he had received from Voldemort through their mind-connection was that all the wards around Scrimgeour's office had been pulled down, and that Arian still hadn't been seen.

And he knew that Voldemort was waiting for him right that very moment. Orion had told him that he wanted to be present for Scrimgeour's last moments.

His smile widened exultantly. He was rather looking forward to it.

* * *

"What a delightful little gathering," said Orion wryly seconds after he and his Elite had landed in the middle of Scrimgeour's office, right next to Voldemort's side.

They had interrupted one of Voldemort's speeches the wizard so much liked to give when he was about to kill an enemy, boasting and sneering with arrogance and supreme vicious smugness.

Of all the foolish things… Voldemort had just been disclosing how the Ministries of Ireland and Scotland were also being taken. Orion never understood the need the wizard had to rub in his enemy's face all his plans – it was quite stupid in his opinion, what if something went wrong and Scrimgeour escaped?

Of course, in that occasion, that was impossible. But it was still a stupid tendency of Voldemort's, in his opinion.

Orion repressed a roll of eyes at the Dark Lord and eyed the rest of the occupants in the office.

There were several Death Eaters, wearing silver masks, though he could easily recognize them – Lucius was among them, surely to savor Scrimgeour's downfall.

And there were two Aurors, with wands aimed at them and standing protectively by Scrimgeour's side. One was called Dawlish, if he remembered correctly. The other was none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt.

At the other side of the room, standing next to a Death Eater who had to be Yaxley, stood Pius Thicknesse, the Head of the Department of Magical Law and Enforcement and who had been under Yaxley's Imperius Curse for quite some time. And who had, up until that moment, worked to bring the other major department heads to their side – either through bribes, threats to their families of being attacked by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, or simply persuading those of proper background, disposition and family lines, to follow pureblood ideals.

Orion knew that it had all been done very covertly and secretly. Yet now, Voldemort evidently felt it was time to disclose it to Scrimgeour and his defenders, and take pleasure in their grim expressions.

To complete the tableau, and to his amusement, Percy Weasley was among them, pale faced, looking as if his neatly ordered world had just crumbled before him and as if the Compendium of Ministerial Laws had been shoved down his throat.

Orion smirked at all the attention his sudden appearance was receiving. Voldemort had halted in the middle of his little speech and was gazing at him with veiled pleasure. Merlin knew why – probably because he had dealt with the other Ministers quite quickly and had popped there on time.

Scrimgeour and the Aurors looked even tenser than before, their gazes turning from him to Voldemort and back, apparently readying themselves for whatever came their way.

A wave of excitement and anticipation seemed to ripple among the Death Eaters in attendance, because his arrival undoubtedly signaled the start of the end of the confrontation.

And his Elite, as disciplined, efficient and silent as they had so far conducted themselves during their visits to the other Ministers, stood flanking him with wands drawn and without saying a word, waiting for a command from his part or just to protect him if required.

Orion decided to break the silence that had spread through the office like a gathering storm.

"What are you waiting for?" he said calmly, glancing at Voldemort and then irreverently gesturing at Scrimgeour. "We all know he won't yield. Kill him and let's be done with it."

"What have you done to the Weasleys?" demanded Shacklebolt before anyone else could say a word, as Percy tensed by his side, also staring at Orion, though with apprehension and fear, while the Auror was pining him with a hard gaze.

Orion shot him a snide sneer. "As if I have to answer to you."

"I helped your friend," said Shacklebolt quietly, his fingers tightening around his aimed wand.

"Calypso, you mean?" Orion let out a scoff. "So what? It was the proper thing to do given that you're an Auror." He gazed at the wizard mockingly. "If this is your way of trying to get me to help you and Scrimgeour, I must say that it's a pathetic attempt. And pointless, mind you. I owe you no debt."

"Your father is with the Order-"

"And?" interrupted Orion crisply, his eyes narrowing to slits. "He's my enemy as well. Mentioning him doesn't work to your favor, Shacklebolt."

"You are the Boy-Who-Lived," said Scrimgeour in a steely tone of voice, moving to be in front of the two Aurors protecting him to be able to directly face him. A stupid move in Orion's opinion, no matter the brave and imposing stance the wizard was taking. "You are the one prophesized to kill him." The wizard shot Voldemort a fearless glance before he gazed at Orion again, his expression hardening as he continued sternly and gravely, "I am willing to forgive past transgressions if you stand with the side you have always been meant to support."

"Now you're trying to pull 'The Chosen One' argument, again?" said Orion, his voice laced with disbelief and scorn. "I refused the first time, what makes you think-"

Voldemort gestured at him to keep silent, which he obeyed out of sheer anger at the Minister's gall, and then the Dark Lord calmly took a step forward before the wizard could say another word, raising his wand as he said indolently, "I tire of this. I believe none of us have nothing more to say to each other. Bid your farewells, Scrimgeour."

It happened so unexpectedly, so suddenly, that Orion found himself staggering backwards. Abruptly, everything seemed to have erupted into mayhem, chaos and confusion. The only thing Orion knew was that Dawlish and Shacklebolt had jumped in front of the Minister to protect the wizard from Voldemort, just seconds before the office seemed to explode in a burst of white light which blinded him, his vision filling with black spots, making him blink repeatedly when he thought he was seeing Arian smiling, standing in the middle of the office.

He heard alarmed shouts, Titania's voice, along with Evander, Kara and Viktor's, crying out his name. But all he knew was that he was teetering to a side, the floor under his feet feeling as if it was moving, or perhaps it was he who was rocking and not the world.

And then, there was utter silence and his sight began to clear.

Orion gaped at his surroundings, yet he tensely clutched his wand. It was the strangest thing. He could see the walls of Scrimgeour's office like blurred images at the corners of his sight, but the rest…

He was in a garden, with the sun high up in clear blue skies, birds singing in nearby trees, a charming cottage a few feet away from him, surrounded by rows of bushes and blossomed flowers, and with a spring of gurgling water right next to him which ended in a pond with water lilies and croaking frogs.

And before him stood Arian, in impeccable pale blue robes and a sphere of glowing magic hovering at his side. For a moment he thought he was gazing at an illusory mirage of an unearthly beautiful being.

"What have you done?" Orion blurted out, one of the first questions that came into mind, too befuddled and feeling too disoriented and confused to do or say anything else. "Where are we? What is this?"

"We're still in the Minister's office, yet not," replied Arian, shooting him a pearly-white smile. "We're at the outskirts of Nice, in France. Beautiful place, n'est ce pas?" His smile widened as he gestured at the cottage. "That was the Flamel's, one of the things they left to me."

Orion stared at him incredulously, while hesitantly touching the scar on his forehead. He couldn't feel Voldemort through their connection. He couldn't hear the Elite through the spell they had cast on themselves. He couldn't sense anyone but himself and Arian. It was as if they were alone in a world of their own.

He had expected Arian to barge in with an army of Illuminati, not… this. Never this.

"You have trapped me in an overlapping of space?" he said as he let out a shaky exhalation of breath.

He didn't say what he was inwardly yelling at himself. That it was impossible. That it was a mere theoretical concept, and that no wizard had ever accomplished such thing in practice. He knew this – it was one of the many things explained in the book about time-travelling and bending of space that Calypso had made him read when she had given him the time-turner she had cajoled out of Vagnarov.

"This is no trap," murmured Arian quietly as he slowly walked towards him, as if one approaching a skittish colt that would bolt if frightened or threatened by sudden moves, while the sphere of magic bobbed in mid air after him. "I just thought that it was time to show you something, given that you've decided to take over England waving the Dark's banner."

Orion pulled himself out from his mind-blogged thoughts, gathering his wits and alertness back to himself. But he didn't raise his wand at the light wizard. He didn't quite know what to do.

Attacking Arian could work against him – he had no clue how to break the overlapping of space. He didn't know how to return to Scrimgeour's office. Arian was possibly the only one who could take him back. Thus, he swiftly decided he would have to play along and see what the light wizard was up to now.

"Alright," he said coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you want to show me?"

Arian shot him a bright, dazzling smile, as if he had just made all his dreams come true, and instantly waved a hand. The sphere of magic beside the light wizard burst like a glittering bubble, giving way to something that had been inside it and which Arian took into his hands and brought forward as if presenting it to him.

"The Holy Grail?" said Orion with disbelief, his eyebrows shooting upwards and then letting out a bark of humorless, sharp laughter as he stared at it. "You're giving it to me?"

The magical artifact looked like… well, exactly how he had expected it to be. An unadorned chalice made of wood, yet the inside of it was gold plated and shone under the sunlight.

Arian stared at him with exasperation. "Of course I'm not giving it to you. Don't be ridiculous."

In the next second, the light wizard was charmingly smiling again while he gestured at him to come closer to the spring. "This is the place where Perenelle did for me what I'm about to do for you. That's why I chose it. It's kind of commemorative, wouldn't you say, hmmm?"

Orion frowned without beeping a sound, though the light wizard didn't seem to care.

As the man crouched by the pond to submerge the Cup in it, bringing it up again filled with fresh water, Arian glanced at him as he continued speaking, with a somber expression on his face yet also with a smile that told of fond and cherished memories, "Perenelle was an exceptional woman - unlike any who has ever lived. She was a halfblood, you know? The daughter of a famous muggle French archeologist of the 18th century who married an Egyptian light witch."

Arian chuckled under his breath as he stood up, carefully holding up the Cup. "I often told Perenelle that she had quite an interesting mix of blood - delicate French features embellished by large and beautiful black Arab eyes and tanned skin inherited from her mother."

As he started to reach Orion's side, Arian shot him a pointed glance. "She went to Beauxbatons and then pursued the same career as her muggle father. She got a degree in Archeology from Oxford University and a double wizarding Mastership in Curse Breaking and Ancient History from Paris' Grand École des Magique Études."

"What are you trying to get at?" interjected Orion impatiently, moodily scowling at him.

Arian shot him an annoyed glance before he continued cheerfully babbling as if he hadn't been interrupted at all. "By the 1750s, she was already a famed archeologist both in the muggle and wizarding world." His cerulean blue eyes sparkled. "She was an adventurer! Fearless, passionate and so stubborn."

He chuckled again, shaking his head with fond, reminiscent amusement. "Nicholas met her in 1799 when he was in Cairo for a meeting of the Covenant of Alchemists and when she was giving a lecture in the British Museum about the discovery of the Rosetta Stone – she had been part of that French muggle archeology expedition. Nicholas attended the lecture out of sheer curiosity, you see, and they told me it was love at first sight."

The light wizard flashed him with a dazzling smile. "By then, of course, it had been several decades since she had found the Grail."

Orion pierced him with a narrowed-eyed gaze. "Perenelle found it?"

"Oh yes, she did!" said Arian jovially, his expression one of exultant pride. "And she did it all on her own – remarkable, n'est ce pas? She was twenty-four years old when she embarked on the quest of following all the clues she had discovered in her research. You should have seen her! I have, many times - looking into her past."

The light wizard's smile widened from ear to ear. "She almost died several times as she explored the deserts of what is now Jordan, but she never gave up. In the end, she found the legendary Half-Moon Canyon and the temple carved in it – where I had left the Grail, when I had been Galahad, under the protection of my fellow Knights and quest companions, Perceval and Bors."

"Why are you telling me this?" snapped Orion gruffly.

Arian utterly ignored his question, instead pinning him with a chiding glance. "Do you know why I left my two friends behind guarding the Grail, hmmm? There were there for countless centuries, drinking from the Grail to expand their lives so that they could protect it."

The light wizard took a step to be face-to-face with him and he tutted scoldingly before he continued, "I left them behind because after I drank from it and remembered who I had been, I was certain that I would be able to help you. I took a vial with water from the Grail and I went looking for you. It took me a long time, but I found you, in Bornholm Island with your dear Durmstrang already almost built – married to a dark witch and with a son. Do you know what you did when I appeared before you and asked you to drink the water?"

"No," replied Orion crisply. "You know I don't remember anything about my life as Mordred. I just know what the Kraljica Mati told me and what she showed me in her memory."

"You killed me," said Arian dryly. "You wouldn't even listen to what I had to say. It was very unchivalrous of you, n'est ce pas?"

"And you didn't fight me back?" sneered Orion, without showing the startlement he felt.

Arian shot him a wryly amused look. "No. I admit I was quite soft-hearted when I was Galahad. Even after I remembered everything." He locked his gaze with his, his lips quirking upwards. "You see, I preferred to let you kill me than to hurt you."

Orion narrowed his eyes to slits, and ended up peeling his gaze away from Arian's to eye the Cup brimming with water, deciding to ignore the wizard's words and get to the point. "So that's what you want me to do now, drink from it?"

"Exactly," said Arian brightly, widely smiling at him. "It not only makes you retain your youth and expands your lifetime if you drink from it with some frequency, but it also makes you remember all your past lives, starting from the very first. It isn't called the Cup of Life for nothing."

The light wizard held up a hand the moment Orion parted his lips open to tell him just what he thought about the idea. "Don't be foolish and listen to me. If you take just a sip, you'll remember a few of the most important memories of your first life. I'm not asking you to drink a full cup. Just a sip, and only more if you want to. There's no other way you'll remember your first life."

Orion frowned at the latter but then demanded sharply, "What about the block Vagnarov built in my mind-"

"It won't be affected, I assure you," interrupted Arian with a dismissive wave of his hand, brightly smiling at him in the next second. "The way water from the Holy Grail works has nothing to do with the Necromancer's way of making one remember past lives or with what Cadmus the Dementor did to you."

"Why should I do it?" snapped Orion caustically, piercing him with narrowed eyes. "Why should I trust you?"

Arian gazed at him with a grave expression on his face. "Because know it or not, I want what is best for you."

Orion snorted scathingly, not believing him for a second, and then he shot him a partly suspicious and a partly curious glance. "You said Perenelle had done this for you. What, exactly, was your relationship with her?"

"You want to know about that, hmmm?" said Arian in a playful tone of voice, shooting him a pearly-white smile filled with amusement before his expression sobered up into a solemn one. "She was a mother to me, a friend, a sister, and my first lover in this life."

Orion gawked at him at the last words, but before he could say anything, Arian went on with a soft smile of reminiscence on his lips, "I had been living with them for four years. I was seventeen years old and she was still looking as young as ever. I made love to her right here."

Arian gestured at the lawn near the spring, his expression turning sad and melancholic for a very brief moment. "It happened the day I overheard Dumbledore talking to the Flamels, convincing them to destroy the Philosopher's Stone. That night, Perenelle came into my room and brought me here."

The light wizard shot him a glance and muttered quietly, "It was then when she revealed the Holy Grail to me. I already knew about the Vindico Lumen issue, about the Illuminati and about my father, and I had done several things regarding the matter, but I still didn't know who I had been. Perenelle told me the Grail was rightfully mine and she didn't have to persuade me much to make me drink from it. After I remembered everything, I made love to her."

Seeing Orion's gaping mouth, Arian chortled and quickly added, "It wasn't cheating on Nicholas. Though, I had no reason to be loyal to him since everything he taught me he did it following Albus' orders – to mold me into what they wanted me to be. I esteemed him, certainly, but I didn't feel any duty towards him. I didn't owe Nicholas anything, n'est ce pas?"

He shot him a hard glance before he continued pleasantly, "However, Perenelle and I didn't love each other that way. How could we, hmmm? She loved her husband till the very end. It was merely a farewell, an act of giving comfort from my part. You see, she aged very quickly after that day when they destroyed the Philosopher's Stone – both she and I knew what would happen to her and Nicholas. In the end, they looked like corpses, their bodies skeletal, their skin dry and sucked in. They could barely move. They died on their bed, holding hands." A soft smile formed on his lips. "Perenelle died just a few seconds after Nicholas, and she used her last breath to say my name. My real one, of my first life. I am grateful to her for that, as for many other things."

"Your real name?" muttered Orion quietly, frowning at him.

Arian flashed him with a charming, gorgeous smile. "Yes. So tell me, aren't you a bit curious to know about your first life, hmm?" He held up the Holy Grail, the water inside it glittering and sparkling with golden streaks as the sunrays reflected on it, while he murmured softly, "Take just a sip. Just one, and know that which the Dark Source never wants you to find out."

Orion jerked his head up, fixedly staring at him as he demanded sharply, "What do you mean?"

"Drink and you'll know," said Arian quietly, intensely piercing him with his cerulean gaze.

Orion hesitated, but then shot the light wizard a glower and brusquely took the Holy Grail from the wizard's hands, water spilling from the edges as he briskly took a short sip from the brim.


	42. Malekai Salai

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

Phew! I've finally completed and posted the chappie, yay! As you'll see, several of you got some things right. Since FFnet has warned me about not naming any reviewers individually on Author's Notes, then I'll only say that you know who you are and cheers for you! *winks*

Ah, and this chapter has no action whatsoever. I tell you before you become disappointed. Expect the real, exciting action to happen in a few chapters.

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Chapter 42**

The Holy Grail fell from Orion's hands in the very next second when he felt as if he was being torn from the inside out, as if giant hands were ripping at his very core, as if his skull was about to crack open. It was pain worse than he had ever experienced before and he couldn't hold it in.

Orion screamed, fiercely clutching his throbbing temples, clawing at his forehead. It was as if liquid fire was coursing through his body, something powerfully thrumming inside him, a relentless painful pressure in his mind and very being.

With a surge of panic he realized that the block Vulcan Vagnarov had created in his mind seemed to be cracking – everything he heard and saw was leaking through it, past lives streaming through, screaming voices filtering, images flashing behind his closed eyelids, too quickly, too painful to make anything out of them, but it still felt as if rushing flows of rivers were sweeping through his awareness. Arian had lied to him! He roared with fury, but nothing seemed to be able to get past his lips.

"The block will hold," said Arian's soothing voice somewhere above him. "I do not mean to break it against your will. I will not force you to experience all your past lives. I only want you to see pieces of your very first life – the parts which marked you the most, the ones which will give you some answers. Let it happen and it will not be painful. Don't fight it. Let all the memories rush through, passing by without remaining, until you get to some of the first ones."

The light wizard's voice was like a soft-spoken litany that acted like a balm spreading across his awareness. Orion felt himself relaxing under it, while fingers carded through his hair, soothingly and caressing, before magic flowed from them and seeped into his ravaged mind. He felt the wizard cradling him in his arms, and for a brief moment it made him all the more furious, but the anger dissolved in the next second.

His scream died in his throat the moment it all seemed to stop, the pain had faded, his forehead stopped throbbing and the streams of voices and images vanished from his mind, leaving no recollection, nothing of understanding or comprehension behind.

In the next hitch of breath, he felt as if his mind was being pushed by some magical force, and in a split second, his awareness seemed to funnel through the Necromantic block. He realized he was being pitched into one of the memories the light wizard wanted him to see.

Abruptly, the moment everything was silent and dark, Orion cracked his eyes open, a shudder running down his spine when he saw he was alone.

Arian wasn't there anymore, he wasn't in the Flamel's garden or the Ministry, but in a dark and strange place that made him feel an eerie sensation of déjà vu – he was in a memory of his first life, seeing it unveil before him as if he had plunged into a pensieve.

Then, he saw it – a small boy, who looked no more than four years old, was skittering through shadows, rushing through a cavernous, dark place, with ceilings so high they couldn't be seen, held by many columns as thick as the oldest of trees, the hallway so vast as to hold giants, so large that the rocky walls could only be distinguished very far away.

Orion was pulled along, as if something linked him to the boy, as if he were a spirit tied to the child. But it was no 'boy' running through that alien place, he realized. It was a child, yes, given his small frame, but he was a creature with some human-like features mixed with alien ones. It was him, as he had been in his first life.

And with that understanding, he suddenly felt a dual sensation – as if he was being plunged into the child, seeing, feeling and thinking what the child was, yet also seeing the child as if he was an outside observer.

It was then that he could completely distinguish the child's features: large eyes, tilted upwards like a feline's, yet with no white or pupil in them, the eyes were glowing pools of vibrant violet hues, and for all their strangeness, they were beautiful and luminous.

The small round face was a very handsome one, which promised greater beauty with more age; the nose straight and small, the lips luscious with a stubborn and rebellious quirk to them, and the hair was long, waves of silky black brushing past his shoulders in many small braids, with ornaments interwoven in them – a mark of his status among his kind, he somehow knew.

But other than the eyes, the beautiful face could have been that of a human. It was the other features which were not. His skin was dark, a mesh of ebony hues and dark crimson, and it was streaked with symbols, like tribal tattoos on flesh, yet he knew he had been born with them – they set him apart, they marked him for greatness.

The soft, round, childish cheeks had a smattering of small scales trailing from his cheekbones to the upper sides of his forehead. His ears had pointy tips and they peeked out from his braided hair along with two tiny nubs of incipient horns at either side of his temples. And from his strange yet rich clothes, from his back, two wings of bright red scales could be seen, folded, the appendages twitching with fretfulness.

At last, shedding all uneasiness to a side, Orion allowed his awareness to fully plunge into the child, just as the boy-creature glanced over his shoulder with his all-violet eyes, ascertaining he wasn't being seen, before quickly entering a room.

It was a strange sensation. Orion was the child now. He was in the child's body and mind, and he knew things he otherwise wouldn't have – thoughts unraveling in his mind in a tongue he knew not but somehow understood.

Everyone was asleep, his brothers would not suspect, and he would not be found doing that which was forbidden – just as he hadn't been in the previous times he had done it. No one knew, no one could ever know or he would be severely punished.

Orion's lips pouted angrily as he came to a halt at the center of the small, circular chamber, before an ornate altar, just like the numerous that could be found all over the realm. And he mutinously scowled at the image of Mother depicted above – She looked fierce, beautiful and ominous as always, but he could not find it in himself to not be angered with Her.

He was Malekai Salai – the Fourth Prince, the last of Her children, of Her creation, and the most special one, he knew. He was 'Salai' after all, the Beloved and Brightest Star in the Old Tongue. Yet no one would tell him for what he had been made.

His oldest brother was the Ruler of the Realm, his second brother was the Commander of the Forces, and his third brother, the one he was most attached to, was the most powerful one and had been Mother's favorite up until the time he had been created. His third brother was the Creator, temporarily, whenever their Mother gifted the power to him.

And he, the last child, was now Mother's most favored and Chosen One, born ages after his other brothers for some very important purpose, but they would not tell him more. His brothers always told him he was too young still – he was 'little one' to them, to be ignored until he grew to be of some use.

When Mother appeared before them, he was always told to leave the room. She would only talk to his older brothers, yet She came to him in his dreams, cradling him, whispering about the power and greatness he was created to attain, but She wouldn't answer his questions.

And he had many of those – his tutors sharply chided him for his curiosity, 'ungrateful' they called him when he asked too many questions, 'blasphemer' and 'sacrilegious' when he said anything which was considered to go against the things he was taught , and he was always punished for it.

One didn't question Mother, ever, his oldest brother always told him very sternly and angrily. And he had learned to never speak freely with him due to it, after receiving harsh punishment from him. His oldest brother never restrained himself when it came to that.

He sometimes wondered why his oldest brother hadn't killed him already – he could see the hatred and veiled envy in his oldest brother's eyes whenever his brother gazed at him. It was because he was Mother's favorite and Chosen One, especially created when everyone thought their brethren wouldn't have any more additions.

He, merely a young one, was already more powerful than his three much older brothers and he would grow to be a better warrior than his second brother. His second brother had said so and he would know since he was also his trainer. With him, he could sometimes share his opinions and doubts but even his second brother had eventually stated that he was too curious for his own good, his ideas and questionings had a too rebellious streak to them.

Little Malekai's dark full lips quirked upwards happily. But his third brother was different. He liked him best of all. He was the most powerful of his three older brothers and he understood him and cared for him, no matter what everyone else said. However, he knew he couldn't fully confide in his third brother either. There was possessiveness and even jealousy in his third brother, as well. And if his brother became aware about the things he was doing, he shuddered to imagine how he would be punished for it.

Yet, there was someone who could truly understand him, he thought. He could see it in his eyes when he spied on him – eyes as curious, clever, and inquisitive as his own.

Malekai glanced around with his large violet eyes, fretfully biting on his pouty lower lip, but he armed himself with determination in the next instant, his scaled red wings ruffling excitedly at his back. He would be banished to some lower realm at the very least if anyone suspected about what he did, but he wanted to see him again.

He spread his small hands and it took him a single thought and a murmured chant to create the small portal – no one knew he had mastered that magic already, no one realized just how much his powers had already grown.

If Mother knew he had been doing this for quite some while, She herself would punish him severely – but She never had, and that had started to plague him with doubts. Wasn't She all-knowing? Wasn't She the Most Powerful, the Rightful? And it nagged him, because it became clear to him that She wasn't as omniscient as everyone in the realm claimed. He had never dared to voice _that_ to anyone - to doubt the Maker led to be tortured and banished from existence as the worst of blasphemers.

Pushing those troubling thoughts to a side, a surge of excitement swept over him when he peered into the small portal he had created. He saw the White Citadel of the Light Realm, with its many beautiful towers shining brightly in the skies.

The first time he had created the portal and seen the White Citadel suspended among its world's clouds, he had been painfully blinded by all the brightness. He and his brethren were beings of depths, shadows and darkness, and he had felt physically ill at the mere glimpse of the Light Realm. But curiosity had made him swallow and disregard the pain he always felt when gazing at it.

He had always heard so much about his brethren's sworn enemies. The two realms had been at war since their very creation. He knew the other realm had a Maker of their own, their so-called 'Father', and that they claimed that his brethren's Mother was Evil, the Dark One, the Usurper. But his own kind thought that very same thing about the other realm's 'Father', so he had never quite known what to truly believe – his initial questionings about that very same matter was what had started troubles for him.

The portal soon showed him who he was looking for, and as usual, he felt his breath catch in his throat and his violet eyes widened with veiled fascination.

Gavril was flying, just like the first time he had seen him through the portal after hearing so much about their enemies' last and youngest child. He was a beautiful being, resplendent under the light of that realm's dual suns. His wings were so unlike his own: feathery and soft-looking, white dipped with golden and silver hues, splashed with light that glowed from every tip. Gavril was fair colored, his skin smooth and sun-kissed, his short hair a mass of golden curls, and the eyes were of a glowing color of light blue which could not be found anywhere in Malekai's realm.

It was in Gavril's eyes where he had seen the color blue for the very first time, and how it had mesmerized him - the strangeness of the hue, the beauty of it.

He knew he shouldn't think that Gavril was beautiful. His brethren never considered Gavril's kind to be in any way appealing, but he did, from the moment he had laid eyes on him – this had always made him feel uneasy and worried, thinking that there had to be something very wrong in him for him to find beauty where his kin didn't. He still thought that, but it didn't prevent him from secretly enjoying the sight.

Gavril glowed - he always glowed. Gavril was a being of pure light and something about him always compelled Malekai to simply stare with fascination.

Malekai's scaled wings twitched with anticipation the moment Gavril looked up in mid swoop. Gavril fluttered his feathery wings to remain suspended in the air, and then a wide, bright smile broke on his beautiful, glowing face.

Unsurprised, Malekai made himself scowl at the other child through the portal. Lately, Gavril liked to throw him smiles when he opened the portal to spy on him. Admittedly, he had started to make the portal a two-way channel for the very purpose of letting Gavril see him as well, but the smile bothered him, still.

The first time he had seen Gavril smiling, he had felt very disappointed; only fools smiled, only the feeble-minded had such warm and honest expressions on their faces. His brethren would never be seen with expressions like those.

But now it bothered him for different reasons. There was something appealing in it and he had often found himself dreaming about the smile, yearning to see one of his brothers smile so gently at him. Of course, that had never happened, but it irked him that he wanted to see smiles at all. It was all very strange – the things Gavril made him feel.

Suddenly, Gavril swooped forward, making them gaze at each other nearly face-to-face through the portal, and the child of light started making signs with his hands, his lips moving quickly and eagerly.

Malekai simply shook his head sharply. They had never spoken to each other and he didn't understand Gavril's hand signs. The portal was a mere window, no voices could come through. Though, he would soon apply himself to learn how to make portals which could allow the physical passage of bodies. Someday he would be able to truly communicate with him – he would see to that.

Little Malekai cocked his head to a side and regarded Gavril with a serious and suspicious expression on his small face. Inwardly, though, he felt a flutter of satisfaction and smugness. Gavril was just as interested in him as he was in him, from the very first moment. He had no doubt that Gavril must have heard much about him from his kin, just as he had heard much about Gavril from his brothers' hate-filled spews.

It had been the rumors about the unexpected creation of Gavril by the Light Maker which had initially prompted him to have a peek for himself. Gavril had been made several cycles before he himself had been created by Mother, but he had the suspicion that their situations were similar in their respective realms.

Both of them had brothers who ruled or commanded their respective realms, warriors and brethren; both of them had been belatedly created by their respective Makers; and both were supposed to surpass in power their own kin someday. Gavril had also been made for some great purpose, if rumors were to be believed, and he was expected to become a great, powerful warrior.

And needless to say, both of them were facing severe consequences if anyone knew they were curious about each other.

His second brother had once secretly told him that Mother had made him as a response to Gavril's creation. That he would someday meet Gavril, oppose him and be expected to defeat him, just like his three older brothers always warred against Gavril's kin.

It was clear to him that his second brother expected him to believe that he had been created for the sole purpose of being Gavril's nemesis and destroyer – yet, he couldn't quite believe that it was simply that.

He had no doubt that he was expected to destroy Gavril the moment he was old enough to be sent to battle the other realm, but his purpose had to be higher than simply getting rid of one of their rivals, even if Gavril would become their most powerful enemy. Surely he had a greater purpose – he was worth more than that!

Gavril was staring at him through the small portal, the glowing all-blue eyes wide with fascination as their gazes locked with each other's. Then, the beautiful being of light parted his lips open, a word breathing out.

Malekai could not hear it, but he knew it was his own name spilling out, and his eyes widened and his heart seemed to speed up.

"Salai, what are you… what is this? What have you done!"

A roar of enraged fury resounded in the cavernous chamber and little Malekai only had time to jump in startled fear, crying out the name of his attacker as he was enveloped by raging waves of fire.

Agony coursed through him as his third brother lurched forward and slammed him away from the portal, the magic instantly dispelling and Gavril's frantic and concerned image disappearing. Malekai lost sight of everything else as pain ravaged through him, without having time to change into his other form to defend himself, and everything faded into blackness.

* * *

Orion felt himself gasping with a sharp and deep intake of breath, his mind spinning with what he had seen, felt and thought, but he was plunged back into another recollection before he could gather back his wits.

He was among clouds - golden clouds in a place that seemed to have nothing but an infinite ocean them. He was in Gavril's realm, he knew - he could see the contours of the White Citadel sparkling and shinning on the horizon. Who knew how much time had passed – it could have been millennia– but in appearance he only seemed to be a few years older, ten years old at the very most.

And he was in pain and doing his best not to show it. Everything about the place - its brightness, the blinding light of suns, and the very air and puffs of clouds- felt painful to him, but Malekai was undaunted by it. It was always agony when he secretly visited Gavril and spent time in the Light Realm, far away from prying eyes and without anyone even suspecting. Nevertheless, he had learned to bear it since Gavril always refused to go to his realm even after he had taught him how to create the portal for it.

Malekai shot Gavril a furious glower when he dropped through the cloud once more, hearing Gavril's ringing laughter and amused chuckles.

"Try again," piped in Gavril in his childish voice, brightly smiling at him as he leisurely trailed a small hand over the cloud he was seated on, crossed legged, with his glowing feathery wings folded at his back and lounging amidst the cloud's soft puffs of condensed air as if it was the most comfortable of places.

"It cannot support me," groused out Malekai moodily, flying up after his fall and shooting a peevish glare at Gavril and at the damned cloud which refused to let him sit on it. And he had the suspicion that he was being made fun of, and that was not something he would put up with – he wasn't laughed at, ever. "It doesn't like me. Nothing in your realm likes me. It wants me gone."

Gavril rolled his sparkling all-blue eyes. "It cannot like or dislike you – it's a cloud!" He shot him a wide, dazzling smile and then patted his hand on a smooth spot of the cloud, right in front of him. "Come, try again. I'll help you this time, Salai."

Malekai shot him a suspicious glance – he wasn't going to make a fool of himself a second time- but when he saw a silver glow of light flowing from Gavril's hand and spreading through the damned puffy thing, all thoughts about being egged on to be mocked, vanished.

Batting his small, bright red, scaled wings, Malekai took flight up into the skies before he dove downwards again, aiming straight for the spot Gavril had indicated. With a whoop of triumph, even if he crashed on the cloud since he hadn't imagined just how solid Gavril had made it for him, he nonetheless grinned widely, displaying his sharp teeth, when he managed to settle on the cloud without going through it.

He drew his limbs close to his chest, warily eyeing the edge of the cloud, not wanting to teeter over like a clumsy fool, and neatly folded his small wings at his back, shooting Gavril a victorious grin and then staring at him with anticipation, while he did his best to ignore just how painful it was to remain there for long.

"You told me you would show me something interesting next time I came here."

Little Gavril widely smiled at him, nodding, and then peered at him with wide-eyed curiosity. "You said you had something to show me too."

"I do," said Malekai, the expression on his childish face one of supreme smugness. "But you go first. Mine is much more important so it should be last, so that you can better admire it."

"You cannot know if yours is more important than mine," quipped Gavril with an assured air of sagacity and wisdom, then looking at him with tinkling amusement. "You are always so vain and conceited-"

"Of course I am. Why shouldn't I be?" Malekai stared at him with an indignant scowl. "I am the most powerful of all and everyone knows it." His pouty lips quirked upwards and he added in a low and soft purring tone, knowing very well how it made Gavril feel uncomfortable, "And you like me just the way I am, don't you?"

Gavril shifted uneasily, frowning confusedly as the small feathered wings at his back fluttered, and then gazed at him accusingly. "I don't like it when you speak to me like that. I can tell that it's one of your ways to affect me, to… um…" He frowned once again, and then his expression brightened, apparently having found the word for it. "To manipulate me!" His glowing, all-blue eyes narrowed and he huffed as he added shortly, "And you should not play like that with me. I respect you so you should respect me, or we will not be friends anymore."

"Friends," muttered Malekai under his breath, tasting the word in his mouth and pondering about what it meant. Gavril had already explained the concept to him once, but he was still not quite sure if it was something that appealed to him – it didn't seem to him as if it was something useful.

Nevertheless, he waved Gavril's complaints away with a hand and said impatiently, "Just show me, Gavril! Don't make me wait – you know I cannot stand to be here for long."

Gavril's expression crumbled to one of contrite concern, before he nodded and brightly smiled at him. In a few moments, Gavril cupped his hands close together, an expression of concentration spreading through his luminous face, before he let out an elated cry as he opened his hands and a tiny creature came fluttering out.

Gasping, Malekai stared at it and murmured quietly, "What is it? What is it called?"

"I don't know," said Gavril happily, chuckling when the creature delicately flew around him. "It's from the new world. My brother brought it back-"

"That's forbidden!" snapped Malekai, glaring at him and then at the fluttering thing. "It goes against the laws to meddle with-"

"My kin hasn't meddled," interrupted Gavril solemnly, shooting him a frown. "We have observed from afar, just like your brethren has. My brother Micah simply brought back some specimens to study, nothing else. We are all trying to understand what is happening there, aren't we?"

Malekai's mood soured, knowing that what he wanted to show had lost some of its value. Though, he thought to himself smugly, perhaps not its importance. And truly, if someone had meddled, it had been him, unbeknownst to everyone. But he would soon disclose it to Gavril and bask in the admiration it would produce. Yes, he had very important matters to reveal.

He closely eyed the tiny creature again. The thing had delicate thin wings, with designs in blue and green, and he would have admired it if it wasn't for Gavril's current expression – his 'friend' was looking at the thing with fondness and fascination, and he simply didn't like that. Gavril could only look that way at him, not at anything or anyone else.

When the tiny, winged creature posed itself on Gavril's nose, making his friend chuckle softly, Malekai scowled and instantly shot out a hand, capturing it.

He felt the thing fluttering frantically inside his fist and he grinned with satisfaction when he tightened his dark and clawed hand, hearing a crunching sound coming from within and knowing he had killed it.

With a gasp, and looking mightily angered, Gavril grasped Malekai's hand and forcefully peeled the fingers away, making the dead, tiny creature crumble down on the cloud. "Life is precious, Salai - it is to be cherished not destroyed!"

With a thunderous expression on his face and after shooting him a very furious and scolding glare, Gavril instantly cradled the creature in his small hands, rocking it gently as a bright white glow encompassed it. A second later, the thing was alive again, fluttering from Gavril's extended palms.

"If you're going to behave like this, I won't show you anything else," said Gavril curtly, turning his face away as he allowed the tiny creature to take flight.

With a mutinous scowl, Malekai swallowed his miffed anger and muttered grudgingly, "I won't do it again."

Gavril shot him a suspicious and scrutinizing glance, before his expression relaxed and a smile broke on his beautiful face. "I forgive you, then." His eyes shone with excitement as he brought his hands together once more, light soon glowing from them as something started to form within. "I've been practicing with my Gift and I've finally been successful. It's so easy for me now, and I think only you can understand what it means to me, since your Maker gave you the same ability as mine did from the moment She made you."

Malekai started at him with puzzlement and curiosity, and his breath soon hitched in his throat when Gavril opened his palms, a creature slightly larger than the last one being revealed before his eyes. But it was completely different from the other: it glowed and had translucent wings, with a lithe body, tiny breasts, arms and legs, a beautiful face and long, shiny silver hair.

"It's like one of your females – just… tiny," breathed out Malekai, intently staring at it as it started strutting along Gavril's fingers, as if basking in their admiration as she swayed her tiny hips and gave them coy glances. "What is its purpose?"

"Purpose?" said Gavril, shaking his head with amusement yet being careful of not unsettling the creature. "She has none other than bringing beauty and joy wherever she is."

Malekai scoffed scornfully. "Then she's useless."

However, he couldn't suppress the excitement he felt. Gavril had just proven that he had mastered the Gift of Creation – and it was true that both of them had been born with it, one of the many similarities they had discovered between them. Yes, they were similar in many ways, just as they were opposites in many others, having been created like that on purpose by their respective Makers. They were fated to be each other's nemesis, after all.

Nonetheless, it was still very significant. In that respect, they were special and unique among their respective kin. He himself was envied for it, since among his brethren, only his third brother was temporarily bestowed the Gift of Creation by their Mother from time to time and for very concrete purposes. And he knew that one of Gavril's kin, the brother Gavril loved the most, was also chosen by their so-called Father to bear the ability. But only Gavril and him had it permanently since birth.

"Now it's my turn to show you what I have done," said Malekai exultantly in his high-pitched childish voice, without being able to contain himself any longer. "I have gone several steps beyond what you have allowed yourself to do." He shot him a smug grin filled with tiny sharp teeth. "I do not consider myself to be bound by the rules imposed on us. I do not fear my Maker's retribution as you do yours."

Gavril tensed and eyed him warily. "You haven't done anything forbidden, have you?" He gestured at the small female creature which was now displaying herself as she elegantly flew around his shoulders. "I created her in my realm. I haven't disrupted-"

"I have," whispered Malekai, his violet eyes sparkling with rebellious mischief and a stubborn conviction in his own right to do anything he pleased. "I've broken many rules, and no one suspects me, not even my Mother."

He didn't wait a second longer and instantly patted his tunic until he reached a pocket, swiftly yet carefully taking out the creature that had been slumbering in it. Little Malekai settled her on his lap, caressing her smooth scales and issuing a hissing sound from his lips to awake her.

He proudly smiled at the creature the moment she opened her slitted yellow eyes and hissed back at him as she coiled herself around his wrist, seeking warmth and comfort.

Then he glanced up at Gavril and widely grinned as he informed him smugly, "She is my creation-"

"You lie! You didn't make that," burst out Gavril accusingly, then looking uneasy as well as apprehensive, his eyes round as he piercingly stared at the creature. "The last time my kin observed the new world, I saw those creatures there-"

"How do you think they got there?" interrupted Malekai pointedly, before he glanced down at his creation with deep satisfaction showing on his face and then puffed out his small chest proudly. "You know I can make portals to go wherever I like. I went to the new world – I wanted to see it for myself, no matter if it's prohibited." He shot Gavril a glance and continued in a low, conspiratorial tone of voice, "I saw some creatures with scales, like I have, but they aren't intelligent, just merely driven by instincts. I got the idea from observing those creatures and I made her in their image, just with a smarter mind and without unnecessary limbs. To move, she can slither. I can show you!"

His face glowed with pride and he started hissing again, but Gavril instantly interrupted him, staring at him wide-eyed and looking more flustered and anxious with each passing second. "You speak to her?"

"More or less," replied Malekai, a sharp grin spreading on his full lips. "I created her and a male, and they have already bred but it's only her that I brought back to live with me in my realm – no one knows, of course. I keep her hidden. But I made her kind to be clever and astute, and I can mimic the sounds she makes and we're beginning to understand each other. I'm teaching her words, and when I send her back to the new world, she will teach her offspring." He widely smiled at him. "She calls me 'father'. And that's what I am-"

"You've gone too far!" gasped out Gavril, staring at him as if he had never seen him before. "If your Maker discovered what you have done-"

"But She hasn't," snapped Malekai sharply, piercing him with narrowed eyes. "And you won't tell yours." Then he shot him a sharp-toothed grin, and whispered conspiratorially as he leaned forward to be face-to-face with him, "And I have done much more than simply creating a new kind. I have… 'helped' the sentient primitive beings that live there. You know of whom I speak – those who have your kin and mine so flummoxed and the Makers so wary. Those ugly ones who have hair all over their bodies, who hunt and live in caves, those who have started to communicate like this-"

Malekai made guttural noises with his throat and then paused to bring up a hand, flames instantly erupting, his violet eyes gleaming as he continued in his high-pitched voice, "Those who have learned how to make fire with the tools they had at their disposal. It was I who taught one of them, Gavril!" He chuckled and shot him a toothy, impish grin. "And while your kin suspects that one of my brothers did it, and while my brethren is accusing yours of having given those primitive creatures forbidden knowledge, no one suspects that it was little me who was behind it all along!"

Gavril reeled backwards, his expression appalled, his face pale and aghast. Tense silence spread between them, and Malekai tilted his head to a side, looking at him without clearly understanding what his friend was so fretful about.

At last, Gavril fixedly stared at him and murmured quietly, "Why? Why have you done these things?" He gazed at him frantically, the expression on his childish face then growing angry. "For what reason! I know there must be an ulterior motive, you always have one. And I cannot understand why you've done it unless you tell me. You have pitched us all into-"

"Why shouldn't I have done those things?" demanded Malekai with miffed irritation and disappointment at how his friend was reacting.

Gavril was supposed to admire him, not scold him. With an angry pout on his lips, he glared at his friend as he continued petting the creature coiled around his wrist, who was contently hissing under his caresses. Well, at least someone appreciated him, as was his due.

"Because it's forbidden to interfere, for good reasons you already know about, and because you're not a Maker, Salai," said Gavril sharply, his gossamer, feathery wings fluttering anxiously and his expression full of misgivings. "I know you have no proper respect for your Maker or mine. I know you like to think of yourself as their equal, but you are not! You have interfered with life there, and the consequences could be catastrophic-"

Malekai scoffed unconcernedly. "Catastrophic for who?"

"For all of us!" snapped Gavril angrily, his small hands clenching into fists.

Malekai's violet eyes narrowed to slits, and it was then when he decided not to tell the full truth. How could he? He couldn't even explain it to himself, yet. So how could he make Gavril understand the feeling he had every time he visited the new world, unseen and undetected. How could he explain the suspicions that simmered in his mind? Who would believe him? He still couldn't quite believe it himself. But he knew he wasn't wrong. Nevertheless, he would keep it a secret for a while longer.

With annoyance flickering across his face, Malekai said with a petulant tone of voice, "I can do whatever I like. Mother will send me there when I'm a bit older – She told me." His expression suddenly brightened with heart-felt joy and he added exultantly, "And your Maker will surely send you too if I'm there, Gavril! We're supposed to have been made to fight each other, right?"

His small, scaled red wings fluttered excitedly as he crouched forward, pushing his pet creature to a side to brush his nose with Gavril's, peering into his eyes. "We will be by ourselves. They won't be able to control us there – we will truly be able to do anything we like!" His violet eyes gleamed brightly as he widely grinned at his friend. "It will be our playground – just you and I!"

"Our playground?" breathed out Gavril, his glowing all-blue eyes widening as the frown on his face cleared to become an expression of wonder and cheerful ponderings. "Just you and I?"

Little Malekai widely grinned and happily nodded at him repeatedly, a promise on his face.

* * *

Abruptly, Orion felt himself being yanked away, as words and perceptions echoed in his awareness. The 'new world'… the butterfly... the fairy Gavril created… the snake… all the implications roared in Orion's mind like thundering tempests as he was pitched into another recollection.

He was older now, he saw; a teen by muggle standards, though he knew his age could be anything from hundreds of years to millennia.

He was much taller than before, muscled, his features more refined and marked, but he still looked young; his face, though it had grown in handsomeness, was still creature-like. He had a smattering of scales along his arms and down his chest, the little horns at the side of his head had grown and looked intimidating. They had stripes now, and his wings were much larger; several feet long with the scales on them having darkened in color, their hues now gradually going from burgundy crimson to the purest of blacks. The markings on his dark skin, like tribal symbols, were more visible along his toned muscles.

And he was in pain, with his scaled wings lying by his sides, his back torn with many gashes and what looked like large, deep bite marks. He was lying on his stomach on a richly carpeted floor, amongst what seemed to be large and comfortable cushions. He was in his rooms, in his realm, he somehow knew – and his chambers looked utterly alien as well as eerily familiar.

With part of his awareness clinging to his own mind and identity, Orion thought to himself that the vast, cavernous, and shadowy room had an Arabian quality to it. Everything was crimson, violet, purple or black, no greens or blues could be found, but other than that, the decorations could certainly be likened to an Arab-like style, with drapes and veils hanging from the ceiling, with pillows, cushions and carpets spread throughout the floor instead of having a bed or chairs, with the walls embedded with colorful tiles in designs which looked very much like those he had seen in one of Calypso's muggle books about religions. The strange curled symbols did look somewhat similar to Sanskrit, Hebrew or Arabian letters.

Furthermore, the language in which Malekai and Gavril had spoken in the previous memory, though he had understood it as if it had been modern-day English –undoubtedly a comprehension property imbued into the water by the Holy Grail- had the echoes of accents of ancient muggle tongues that could be likened to some Old Arabic language or other.

All of it pointed towards Malekai's kind having influenced early muggle civilizations at some point – what else could it be, if not that?

Nevertheless, even though he had an increasing comprehension of what it all meant, Orion didn't have much opportunity to muse further about it since he was once more inexorably pulled into Malekai's mind of that memory.

He was tired, exhausted, groaning in pain, but also excited. Recently, he had been given his first mission. Mother herself had appeared before him to tell him what She wanted him to do and had, accordingly, given him the tools for it. He was proud of himself, as well as mesmerized, befuddled, and troubled by the things he had discovered so far.

Suddenly, his breath hitched in his throat when a sphere of light blazed before his eyes, moments before a figure came stumbling out of a portal.

Malekai sniggered under his breath as Gavril staggered while attempting to catch his equilibrium. He was shot a miffed glance, yet Gavril's expression changed to one of concern when he caught sight of Malekai's state.

Gavril had grown too; still ethereally beautiful, he was much taller than before, all long legs and lithe toned muscles, his sun-kissed skin glowed with an inner light of its own, his white feathery wings with splashes of silver and golden hues were much larger but just as entrancing, like gossamer wings made of sunlight. What stood out the most were the markings on Gavril's smooth forehead – a swirling design of silver lines which shone, and which, Orion instinctually knew, were a mark of Gavril's position and importance among his kind. Gavril had earned them.

"Why were you punished this time?" murmured Gavril as he crouched by Malekai's side, eyeing the torn back with a grimace on his beautiful, glowing face.

Malekai scoffed indifferently. He hadn't spoken a word that could be considered 'blasphemous' in many cycles, yet that day he had been too audacious and arrogant and he had reaped the consequences for it. "Pain makes you stronger, Salai," his third brother had said to him the moment he had stopped lashing at his back with cords of fire. And Malekai understood and agreed. It was nothing, though he knew his friend didn't like it or understood.

Gavril had once told him that his own kind never meted out physical punishment. Malekai's violet eyes had widened at that. Apparently, Gavril's kind did other things. They took Gavril's music away from him when Gavril had to be disciplined. This had befuddled Malekai even more, and he had only understood what it meant when Gavril had explained to him the concept of music and when he had softly sung to him.

Malekai had never thought such things existed. It had never occurred to him that voices could be used to create pleasing sounds and things called 'melodies' just for the enjoyment and pleasure of others. Gavril had been just as flummoxed when he realized that music, singing and dancing could not be found in Malekai's realm. Gavril couldn't imagine an existence without enjoying such 'arts' – as Gavril called them – and he had even tried to teach Malekai how to dance.

However, when he had thought that it was all a ploy to mock and make fun of him, Malekai had almost halted his bumbling attempts at following Gavril's fluid dancing steps. Yet he had soon seen that Gavril sincerely wanted to share that with him, that it was not a rouse of any kind, and he had ended enjoying himself, much to his own amazement. A powerful warrior like himself shouldn't find pleasure in such frivolities, he knew that. But to his own concern and perplexity, he always secretly ended up enjoying everything Gavril taught him.

Malekai frowned at his own thoughts and guardedly gazed at Gavril's worried face. It was strange, this thing they had between them.

Since the day when his third brother had found him staring at Gavril through the portal, they had never been caught again. Malekai had gone to considerable efforts and plots to always seek out Gavril without anyone having any cause for suspicion – not his own brethren or Gavril's.

That had been many cycles ago, and since the time when he had discovered how to use portal magic to travel to Gavril's realm and appear into his rooms, they had become something Gavril continually termed as 'friends'.

It was another thing that had been explained to him a long time ago and Malekai still, presently, wasn't too sure he liked the idea of it. What was the point of seeking companionship from another if it wasn't for the pleasures of the flesh or to satiate hunger? He had his brothers and he had tutors, and he could go to them whenever he felt the need for the things they could respectively give him. But he had long ago relented and allowed himself to try this 'friendship' thing Gavril hailed so much.

Malekai suddenly tensed when he felt Gavril's feather-like touch on the wounds at his back, and he stretched his neck to have a better angle in which to stare at his friend.

He was pierced by swirling blue eyes as Gavril said quietly, "I can heal you, if you allow me. This you know, Salai."

Malekai regarded him with half-lidded eyes, which then slightly narrowed. Yes, Gavril could use his magic on him, as well as touch him without both of them feeling extreme pain. It was one of the first things they had discovered the day he had mastered the travelling portal and had stumbled out of it and into Gavril's rooms in the White Citadel.

They had accidently brushed hands and both of them had jumped, expecting to feel ravaging fire burning them. But they hadn't writhed in pain. Nothing had happened at all, except a strange tingling sensation, and they had gazed at each other with wonderment.

It was unprecedented, after all. Their kinds simply couldn't bear each other's touch – fact that was vastly exploited when their respective realms fought in battle. But Malekai and Gavril didn't suffer that with one another and it still puzzled them. Of course, they had never dared breathe a word about it to anyone, since no one knew they saw each other. Thus, they couldn't ask and they had no explanation for it.

But Malekai had his suspicions and none of them pleased him.

He had thought, at first, that Gavril had been ordered to get close to him and he had expected to be attacked and betrayed every time they met in secret. It had never happened so far and he had realized one day that there was no malicious guile in his friend.

Gavril was a strange being – innocent still in areas in which Malekai hadn't been in a long time; honest, gentle and sincere to a degree that always stumped Malekai; yet also sharp witted, brilliantly clever, deeply curious and questioning, and sly, just like him.

They were complete opposites in many aspects, but their minds were alike - they understood each other as no one else did. Gavril was the only being with whom Malekai could speak openly without worrying about being mocked, disregarded or punished for his thoughts.

They both shared the same inquisitive and curious nature which made them seek answers for themselves when they were not satisfied with those given by others. 'Free-minded' Gavril had once called them, widely smiling at him with a mischievous glint in his strange yet so beautifully colored eyes.

Malekai's violet eyes shuttered closed and he repressed a groan when he felt Gavril's fingertips brushing along one of his spread wings. He inwardly wondered what his friend thought he was doing.

The scales of his wings could be as hard as stone, perfect to be used as shields in battle, or they could be as sharp as blades, but they also turned soft and sensitive when he was relaxed, like at that very moment. Gavril's feathery touch was too pleasant and troublesome – spikes of arousal were starting to flash along Malekai's wings, trailing down and burning in his groin.

And Gavril knew very well what he was causing; Malekai had once explained it to him. Though, his friend had told him quite dismissively that he didn't feel those kinds of yearnings. But Malekai knew Gavril had lied. Perhaps Gavril's kind truly never felt primal arousal, but Gavril sure did. Malekai was certain about that, even if his friend had never admitted it out loud or to himself.

Malekai had seen the puzzled desire and veiled longing in Gavril's eyes when he gazed at him. It was always there, an unspoken tension between them, from the very first time they had touched each other's wings, marveling at the differences and becoming more fascinated with one another. He knew Gavril had always been confused by it, but he also knew that his friend, at some point, had come to realize what those yearnings were all about.

However, the matter had never been spoken about between them and he had never sought to satisfy his cravings with Gavril. He knew his friend was innocent in the ways of the flesh and that his kind sought only communion and connection from love-making, but his and his brethren's nature was a different one entirely and Gavril was well aware of it.

"Or you could heal yourself if you had the energy for it," added Gavril in a soft whisper, intensely boring his eyes into his, "if you feed from me."

Malekai remained silent and made his scaled wings flutter slightly, dislodging Gavril's caressing hand from them. He pierced him with his violet gaze for a moment and then looked away from the tempting expression on his friend's face, frowning as he inwardly mused about what his friend was up to.

"You are called the Seducer, aren't you? Quite a fame you have earned since last we saw each other," said Gavril, a challenging and taunting ring in his voice as he tilted his head to a side and expectantly smiled at him. "Perhaps I want to experience it myself."

"I am also called the Deceiver," said Malekai with a warning tone as he slowly rolled to a side, putting distance between them, leaving Gavril crouched on the cushions.

Gavril chuckled under his breath, shaking his head and making his golden curls bob in the air. Malekai felt a warm tingle rush down his body as his friend stretched himself, displaying the smooth column of his long neck and his glowing sun-kissed skin. Gavril was tantalizingly exposing himself, and it made Malekai's eyes narrow to slits with suspicion.

"Being called the Seducer and Deceiver is a form of exaltation and praise from your kind," pointed out Gavril calmly. "In the same way that it would be from mine if you were called a good and noble soul."

"Which I'm not," stated Malekai sharply.

Gavril regarded him with an amused gleam in his glowing all-blue eyes. "Ah, but I think you are."

"Then you're a fool. It's not in my nature." Malekai stretched his full lips into a grin, making his sharp teeth peek out to remind him precisely what he meant. "You know not what you are offering. I would drink your blood, I would tear pieces of your flesh and devour them, and I would further feed as much from the pain I would cause you as from the pleasure I would give you."

A shiver visibly ran down Gavril's frame, but still the being of light merely smiled at him. "I know. But I could easily heal myself."

Malekai regarded him closely for an instant and then a low, rumbling laughter erupted from his throat as he shook his head. He languidly leaned back on the cushions, propping himself up with his elbows as he gazed at him with half-lidded eyes.

"You are… tempting," he said slowly, carefully measuring his words. "But I've never been fooled by the expression of innocence you always wear or by your beauty. I know you have a cunning mind behind it all, and I wonder what your true motives are by offering yourself to me." His violet eyes narrowed to slits and he added sharply, "Never has one of my kind taken pleasure or fed from one of yours and I'm not willing to test what would happen if we did."

Gavril shot him a wide, bright smile. "You think I'm beautiful, then?"

"You are appealing to the sense," said Malekai offhandedly, as he waved the tip of one of his wings in a dismissive gesture.

"To _your _senses, Salai," remarked Gavril pointedly, his smile widening and becoming dazzling, as the inner glow of his sun-kissed skin seemed to increase. "I know that none of your brethren finds me alluring in any way. Only you do." He lowered his voice and added softly, "And I think you're beautiful too."

"Of course you do. Everyone does," Malekai scoffed impassively, burrowing against the cushions at his back, making himself comfortable and mindful of his wounds as he pretended to be utterly uninterested in the turn in the conversation.

"Then we agree. We're both interested in each other that way. So… allow me, I want to taste you," murmured Gavril as he approached him on hands and knees, making his way in between Malekai's splayed legs as his gaze fixed on Malekai's full lips.

Swiftly, Malekai stopped him by laying a hand on his shoulder. "No."

"What do you fear?" demanded Gavril, a frustrated expression sweeping across his face as he halted, crossing his legs to sit face-to-face with him. "You will not kill me even if you lose control when you feed from me, just like I cannot truly kill you. Our kinds are immortal."

"We are immortal in soul and body," interjected Malekai sternly, heated anger lacing his voice,"but that which has been given by our respective Makers can just as easily be taken away."

Gavril stared at him with a startled expression on his face, and Malekai had to bite his black tongue to prevent himself from saying anything more. How could he explain to his friend the reason for his fury? He had to tread carefully. There was much he wanted to tell Gavril – it would be his last chance for it, before he left. But he had to decide carefully when would be the most appropriate moment to disclose everything that had happened to him, everything he had seen and everything he now understood.

Malekai cleared his throat and waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever the reason for our ability to touch each other, I will not play into Their hands." His eyes narrowed to slits as he added curtly, "You might like to follow your so-called Father in everything but I am not my Mother's pawn, no matter if She believes that I am."

Staring at him with an alarmed expression on his face, Gavril took a sharp intake of breath. "Our kinds are Their children, respectively. Their first and most favored. We are the Firstborns. We are not pawns-"

Malekai interrupted him with a loud scoff. "Believe what you want. I will not argue the matter with you. You already know what I think."

"But the Makers-"

"It is not love They feel for their creations," hissed out Malekai angrily, his expression becoming stony and hard as he clutched one of Gavril's forearms and sunk his claws into it, to make him truly pay attention to what he was saying, "no matter how much your kind and my brethren like to delude themselves. The Makers have no emotions or feelings, Gavril. Why can no one realize this but me? We are tools, and They need us as much as we need Them. You all think too much of the Makers!"

Gavril winced as the nails sank into his flesh, but he didn't pull away from Malekai's clutch. He simply looked disturbed and uneasy as he shook his head and murmured quietly, "You should not say these things-"

"I say them only to you," interrupted Malekai sharply, slowly releasing his friend's arm. Then he lidded his eyes half closed as he pleasantly leaned further back into the mountain of cushions. "I do not like to be used. Do you understand now why I won't ever feed from you?"

"No, I don't," snapped Gavril shortly, a stubborn and mutinous expression sweeping across his beautiful face. "We were created to be each other's nemesis and destroyer but we can touch one another. I don't care if it's part of some plot, not even if it's your Maker or my Maker's doing. I simply want to try it. I want to experience it and know what happens."

He paused and then his expression hardened as he bit out, "And it's not as if it would be your first time, is it? You have no problems in sharing yourself with your brothers, Salai. And everyone knows that you're your third brother's favorite, that he constantly seeks you out to feed from you and that you allow it to happen. Your third brother satiates all his hungers with you. He uses you -"

"Not that again," interrupted Malekai with an impatient groan, the folded wings at his back fluttering with annoyance. "I've already explained how it is between my brothers and I. My brethren is not like yours. We function differently."

It was always a point of contention between them, but he had already explained it at length several times. Gavril thought that his physical union with any of his brother was some sort of abomination, that brothers shouldn't lie together or feed from each other. And he knew that there were many taboos in that respect within Gavril's kind. But Malekai's brethren worked differently.

Their females were prized and treasured, and only those males chosen by Mother were allowed to lie with them in order to procreate. And Mother usually only allowed his second or third brother to do so when their numbers needed to be increased. For everything else, to satiate lust and hunger, they could only turn to other males. Females were life-givers and thus were treated delicately; it was forbidden to satiate primal needs with them.

Therefore, Malekai could and had slept with as many males of his kind as he pleased but he usually resorted to his third brother more often than not. It was his third brother who had taken him under his wings, quite literally, and who had first showed him how to feed and all the intricacies of matters of the flesh when he had been a child.

Thus, it was his third brother who knew him best in intimacy and who knew exactly what to do to him to make him feel mindless pleasure. None other could compare. And only Malekai had learned and grown to withstand and find pleasure in the way his third brother liked to feed – not many others could survive it physically intact, not many could quickly heal from the brutality of it or find it as pleasurable. Therefore, he and his third brother were each other's favorites when they wanted to feed and needed to satiate their lusts and all their hungers.

However, no matter how much he explained it, Gavril still despised Malekai's third brother for it, for having taken Malekai when he had supposedly been too young for it, for having allegedly taken advantage of Malekai and whatnot.

It was true that Malekai had been young, even for his own brethren's standards, when his third brother had taken him and showed him the arts of carnal pleasure. But in that aspect, as had happened with the development of his powers, he had matured more quickly than any other of his kind.

He had felt the hungers at a young age, and when others had sensed that he had become physically prepared for it, he had been sought out by many. His third brother had been his teacher, and his other two older brothers had soon become interested in him after that. It was only when his body had matured, no matter if he had still been a child age-wise, that his three brothers had truly started paying attention to him – to use his body, to feed from him.

And Malekai had quickly learned the power it gave him over them. When that realization had struck him - that he was more tantalizing than any of his kind, that his beauty and attractiveness was unparalleled and that many wanted to gain his favor in order to partake of his body- he had become aware that it was a tool that he could use for his own benefit. Thus, he chose whom to lie with and he cajoled favors out of them in return. He became unmatched in matters of the flesh, surpassing his own brothers in pleasure-giving, and he subtlety yielded it like a weapon.

When his fame increased throughout his realm, as the Seducer and Deceiver, it only made many others of his brethren flock to him even more, which hadn't pleased any of his brothers, especially his third one, but which had made Malekai attain even a greater hold over his kind. He was wanted by all, and he fully used it to his advantage.

However, Gavril didn't seem to understand it. To begin with, Gavril had the idea that ties of brotherhood equated to a prohibition of having any physical intimacy between kin, but Malekai didn't see it that way. He had three brothers because the four of them had come from the same female, but it was Mother who had directly created them in the womb of that female. They hadn't been made out of a pairing, but as Mother's direct children. It was what made them special and set them above the others. All others of his kind had come out from pairings chosen by Mother.

Nevertheless, all of his brethren were, ultimately, Mother's children. They were all brothers and sisters even if they didn't come from the same female, even if there was no blood tie between them. That he shared the same blood as his three brothers meant little to Malekai other than his bond with them was stronger than his bond with the rest of his brethren, and that when he fed from their blood and flesh, and the same was done to him by his brothers, it felt more potent and exquisitely satisfying than with any other male of his brethren.

He knew that things were different in Gavril's realm. Their kind didn't feel lust or any type of carnal hunger, they didn't need to physically satiate anything in order to subsist, they didn't need to feed from each other. They fed from the plants they grew, they fed from the air they breathed and from the light of their suns.

They had the freedom to lay with any females of their kind when they felt the need to procreate and they had the free-will to choose when and with whom. Their Maker didn't control them much in that, and the carnal unions between pairs was one in which they gained no physical pleasure but an emotional one – to them, it was a communion between minds and souls.

"Your third brother hurts you intentionally," said Gavril sharply with a stony expression on his face, pulling Malekai out of his musings. "He's jealous of you – of your brethren's regard for you, of your superior powers and of your Maker's preference for you. Just like your other brothers are also jealous of you."

He paused and then gestured towards Malekai's torn back, his eyes narrowing with anger. "It was your third brother who punished you, wasn't it? He's always the one who punishes you and it's because he enjoys doing it. Don't you see that he despises you? That's why he does the things he does to you-"

"He's jealous of me, yes," interrupted Malekai dismissively, covertly shifting to a side so that Gavril couldn't see the wounds on his back any longer. They were slowly knitting shut already, and though it was mildly painful, nothing of it was revealed on his face as he merely rubbed his back against the cushions to soothe the uncomfortable twitching. "And for good reason too, since he was Mother's favorite before I came along. And it wouldn't surprise me to know that he truly hates me." His lips tugged upwards and he shot his friend a sharp-toothed grin. "But as much as he hates me, he loves me too."

" 'Love'?" said Gavril sharply, pinning him with his all-blue gaze. "That was a notion I had to explain to you and you told me that your kind doesn't feel any emotion like that. Now you're saying that your brother does, for you-"

"We feel… an affection of sorts for each other," snapped Malekai impatiently, his voice nearly coming out as a growl from the depths of his chest. "That's as much as I could hope for or desire." His lips curled into a broad, smug smirk. "Besides, he had a good reason for meting out punishment today."

"Which is?" demanded Gavril, looking as if no possible reason could justify what had been done to his friend.

Malekai's self-satisfied smirk widened and he placidly stretched out on his cushions, his violet eyes glimmering. "Mother made a decision and my third brother wasn't happy with it. He expected to be chosen but instead, I was. I'm being sent out on a mission. My first one – finally. I'm leaving today."

"Today?" muttered Gavril, a crestfallen expression sweeping over his ethereal face. "Where to?" His all-blue eyes widened as if he had been struck by a realization, and he added in an agitated whisper, "Is it to the new world?"

Malekai sharply grinned at him. "It is."

"Why is your Maker sending you?" murmured Gavril, his folded wings fluttering anxiously as he searchingly gazed at him. "You are still too young, just a child like I am-"

"I haven't been a child in a long time," quipped Malekai, letting out a short bout of amused, rumbling laughter.

"You know what I mean," interjected Gavril shortly, his usually bright face clouding with both anger and concern.

Abruptly, a serious expression spread on Malekai's features and he leaned forward to pierce his friend with an intense gaze. "I'm being sent because Mother has informed me that it is my new purpose." He cocked his head to a side as he regarded his friend pensively. "Our kinds are not battling each other to see who takes it first. We always do when a world is found in which life can thrive."

Malekai paused and then waved a hand dismissively and continued in a bored tone of voice, "It's always the same. My kind battles yours and the victor claims the world for their Maker, then the Maker sends its chosen one to the world conquered with the temporary powers of Creation. And it's usually your brother Micah who is chosen by your Maker and my third brother who is chosen by my Mother."

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, before he added in a drone-like tone of voice, "The victors' chosen one goes to the world claimed by his brethren and he creates beings tied and bounded to the Maker and he populates that world with them, so that the Maker can entrench part of itself in the new world, in the new ream created, and thus grow and become more powerful. And all of that is because the Makers, respectively, want to grow strong enough to annihilate the other, once and for all. That's why we fight and conquer worlds, Gavril, to see which brethren triumphs and which Maker remains in existence to dominate it all."

He shot a sharp-toothed grin at Gavril and his violet eyes gleamed as he finally added softly, "But this new world that has been found is different, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," murmured Gavril quietly, looking worried and disturbed. "I know your kind has been watching it for a long time just like mine has, and we don't know what happened there. We don't know how it's possible."

Malekai gravely nodded at him. "And we are not battling over it. The Makers are acting very strangely. They are wary. My Mother is not swooping into it as She usually does when a new world is found and your Father isn't either." He sharply smiled at him and leaned forward, nuzzling his nose against Gavril's as he locked gazes with him and murmured tantalizingly, "Doesn't it make you wonder why?"

"What do you suspect?" whispered Gavril, his eyes crossing as he focused his gaze on Malekai's swirling violet eyes. His luminous blue gaze then dropped to Malekai's lips, almost brushing with his, but then he pulled away and shifted awkwardly on the cushions he was seated on. A calm expression shuttered down on his face, and he said stoically, "Tell me."

Malekai purposely made a show of licking his lips, enjoying the effect he had on his official nemesis and secret friend. No matter how much he truly wanted to, he would never feed from Gavril, but it didn't mean that he couldn't play with his friend and rouse in him yearnings that shouldn't be there.

He shot Gavril a knowing smirk, but then regained seriousness and said curtly, "I think the Makers fear what is happening there. Life sparked in a world and neither of the Makers had anything to do with it. Your brethren has observed all that has happened there, just like my brothers and I have."

Malekai's lips stretched into a sharp-toothed grin, and he added softly, a gleam of excitement in his eyes, "Life burbled out from those vast expanses of liquid - little creatures creeping out and changing through time, growing limbs, growing instincts and then sparks of intelligence. Then big creatures roaming about for a while before the world's own changing climate wiped them out, and then the short, furry creatures growing taller, becoming cleverer, losing some body hair and learning to stand on two legs. And now, they are very much like us, physically, are they not?"

He spread out a hand and splayed out his fingers, as he pierced Gavril with his gaze. "They are two legged, two armed, with hands, fingers and thumbs. Don't you think it's strange that they resemble us so much?"

"I do," muttered Gavril, frowning deeply. "And you taught them how to make fire, many cycles ago. It must be the Fates smiling upon you that no one has discovered that yet-"

"Fates have nothing to do with it. I cover my tracks well," interrupted Malekai with an imperious wave of his hand. His lips curved into a smug, devious and sharp smile. "And I've gone to great lengths to make my brethren and my Mother believe that I'm staunchly loyal to them, as I'm supposed to be."

Gavril stared at him with a deep frown, his expression both puzzled and inquiring, but Malekai didn't give him any chance to start questioning him about his loyalties and plans. That would come later.

Malekai pinned him with his gaze, as he continued in a voice laced with satisfaction, "Those creatures have created primitive languages of their own. Now they have huts and tribes. They already even have superstitious beliefs about 'higher powers'. Ask yourself, what could be behind it all?" He widely grinned and then leaned forward, brushing his cheek against Gavril's as he breathed into his ear, "I'll tell you what it is. There's a new little Maker, my friend, and my Mother and your Father fear It, as anyone would fear an unknown and very unexpected new rival."

Gavril jerked backwards to stare at him with widening eyes as he gasped out, "That is not possible."

"Why not?" scoffed out Malekai irreverently, leaning back and plopping down on his cushions, bringing forward one of his wings to scratch an itchy scale with one of his claws. "Just because we have been told that Mother and Father are the origin of everything? That They are self-creations, coming out of nothingness. That at the very beginning, they battled and clashed, and due to it, they spewed out into the void in waves of condensed energy which became mass and blasted off rocks which became worlds, stars, and suns?"

He rubbed his wing once more and then released it, groaning with pleasure when the itching had abated and his scales fluttered. Satisfied and lazily relaxed, he then waved a hand dismissively and added with a grunt, "Oh, I do not doubt most of it is true. They are the cause of everything. But I do think that They are not the only ones of their kind – not anymore."

Gavril stared at him in silence, his expression troubled and dismayed, his folded wings shifting with anxiousness. "How can you possibly know that?"

"Because I never stopped visiting the new world," said Malekai nonchalantly, toothily grinning at him as he comfortably lounged on a pile of puffy cushions.

"You promised you wouldn't!" shouted Gavril, shooting out his hands to grab Malekai's shoulders, shaking him in anger and dislodging Malekai from the cozy little nest of cushions he had arranged for himself. "I made you promise for your own safety-"

"I never had any intention of keeping the promise I made to you!" snapped Malekai caustically, scowling as he wrenched free from Gavril's grasp. He shot him a dark glare as he worked on piling and puffing his cushions once more, huffing with indignation that his physical comfort had been so mindlessly disrupted. "Did you truly expect that after I had taught them how to make fire, I would stop visiting them? Did you think my curiosity would be so easily quenched? Did you think that I wouldn't see the opportunity that it represents to me?"

"Opportunity for what?" said Gavril sharply, his glowing blue eyes narrowing slightly as he pierced him with a searching and demanding gaze, a glint of suspicion and worried foreboding in them.

Malekai utterly ignored the question, plopped back on his arrangement of cushions, and only then, when he was snuggly comfortable, did he widely grin with superior smugness and whispered excitedly, "Do you want to know what happened the last time I went to the new world? Do you want to know what I discovered and how?"

Without pausing for breath, he continued without waiting for Gavril's response. "I walked among them unseen and they are such fascinating creatures. 'Humans' I have named them, and thus they shall be known one day. They are the perfect means for my purposes." He touched his forehead and chest, his lips curling upwards. "So feeble here and weak here as well. Easily driven by greed, lust, and their need for love and companionship – thus, so exquisitely and easily manipulated."

He paused and his violet eyes gleamed as he breathed out, "And a few ones had magic, Gavril. I felt it in them. But it was not like yours or mine. It felt different, weak, but it was still magic. I dropped to my knees and I touched the ground – and I felt Him, Gavril!" He shook his head, his expression turning to one of wonder. "At first, I could not believe it. Since long ago, I've had my suspicions from things I had felt during my visits, but I still had trouble believing that I could be right. But I was!"

Malekai shot him a wide smile, jumping to his feet in excitement as he started pacing the room animatedly. "When I was there, crouching on my knees and with my hands pressed into the ground, I felt the presence of a little Maker burrowed deep within the very core of the new world. And He stretched out towards me, Gavril. He brushed my mind. His touch was tentative, awkward, so insecure and shy, and scared! He was scared and puzzled, but He still reached out to me, as if making a plea for help."

He swirled around to pierce a gobsmacked Gavril with his violet eyes. "He's an infant, Gavril. He barely knows anything. He's driven more by instincts of self-preservation than anything else. And He has emotions – it was the strangest thing! I felt my mind being flooded by so many perceptions and feelings – He told me his story that way. Can you imagine what I saw then?"

Malekai shook his head with fascination and continued in a slow and quiet tone of voice, "Suddenly, I was Him, popping into existence - a being solely of pure thought, magic and power, but still just a newborn in the midst of nothingness, in the middle of a universe I knew nothing about. I didn't know what I was, how I had come to be or anything else. But from very far away, I detected the presence of two others that were like me. At first, I felt the need to rush to them. I sensed they were much larger and powerful than I was. They were adults. I thought that perhaps they would help, that they would welcome me. I flew through the universe, wanting to make contact with them."

He shook his head and chuckled with merciless amusement. "Gavril, I think He thought or hoped that our Makers were His parents. Foolish little thing. Obviously, They are not. This new little Maker came from nothingness, Gavril. I don't think He ever should have existed, but He does."

Malekai's violet eyes gleamed with eagerness, as he continued excitedly, "Nevertheless, He showed me everything. I experienced everything till the very last, as if I were Him... I was about to make contact with Them, I came upon one of the Makers' realms –it was one of yours- and I instantly knew that They had finally felt me too. But what I perceived from Them wasn't welcoming. They were startled, confused and perplexed by my existence, then They feared me and immediately wanted my destruction. 'I' couldn't understand why – of course, since He didn't know that our two Makers have from the very start sought to destroy one another. One more rival, utterly unexpected and unwanted, was a threat to Them. 'I' didn't understand all this, however, but I did perceive that I was about to be killed. The Makers swooped in on me, wanting to obliterate me, but…"

He laughed under his breath, feeling as if the new little Maker's unwitting triumph was his own, since in a way, it was. Anything that could so evenly oppose either of the Makers had his undying gratitude.

"But They couldn't kill Him, Gavril! The little Maker had some sort of natural defenses against Them – a sort of immunity. You know what happens when our two Makers come into close contact – the clash They produce has terrible consequences and They erode and destroy each other since They are too evenly matched. That's why They use us to fight their battles for Them and ultimately make Them stronger to finally, someday, annihilate the other."

Malekai shot him a wide smile and made his way across the cushion-covered floor to plop himself down right in front of his friend, as he continued relating the story, "So there I was, being attacked by those I had sought out and somehow, they couldn't destroy me. I escaped, terrified and confused. I fled to the farthest corner of the universe, as far away from those who wanted to kill me as I could. And then I came upon a young world, and it called to me. I'm a newborn – He was still just a baby then, Gavril – but I instinctually knew that that world could serve as a protection, so I plunged into it and burrowed deep inside, as if I was seeking a protective nest and a shell. He made it his home world, you see! And when I-"

"That's why there's life there," interrupted Gavril in a perplexed mutter, a look of deep concentration etched on his face and Malekai could just imagine all the thoughts rushing through his friend's clever mind.

"Exactly," said Malekai triumphantly, toothily grinning at him. "The very presence of the little Maker inside the core of that planet changed that world – just as it happens when one of the Makers take a new world for themselves. But the little Maker didn't know how to use his powers. He wasn't even aware about what he needed to do to survive, to feed and become stronger and larger. But He did it instinctually, Gavril!"

He shot his friend a smile and gestured animatedly with his hands. "His energy seeped into the world and created sparks of life, and soon, after many cycles, sentient beings started to roam about the surface of the world. And the little Maker started to realize that those beings had been caused by him and that the more of them that there were, the stronger he became. He realized they were his creations and that they were linked to him and him to them." He paused, and then widely smirked, his expression smug. "And then… I came along."

"When you went there for the first time," muttered Gavril quietly, fixedly staring at him, a deep, pensive frown on his face. "When you taught the primitive creatures how to make fire."

"Precisely," said Malekai with satisfaction, his lips curving upwards. "He sensed me then. He even tried to reach out and communicate with me, but He didn't succeed then, nor during the many times I went back. However, He could perceive what I was. He sensed that I was linked to one of the Makers and He realized that I carried the magic of that Maker. It was due to that, that He came to understand how the Makers had become so powerful – by sharing their magic with their creations, since the more powerful that their creations become and the more numerous, the stronger the Maker grows to be. Thus, He did the same. He chose the most intelligent of his creatures and shared some of his magic with them, and it resulted in those humans with magic that I've told you about."

"And then, in your last visit, He finally succeeded in communicating with you, and He showed you everything you've told me," said Gavril musingly, an agitated and troubled cast in his eyes. "But why did He do it? What does He want?"

Malekai shot him a sharp-toothed grin and lazily splayed himself on the cushions. "My help, of course. From what I could tell, it seems that He sensed my dissatisfaction with my Maker, my-" his grin widened "- rebelliousness and disloyalty. And He's special, Gavril. He has emotions and He is a type of magic that acts as a sort of buffer between the magic of our respective Makers. He's utterly unlike our Makers, but in the end, He is still just an infant. It will take him countless cycles to grow into an adult-"

"Buffer?" interjected Gavril, his forehead crinkling with confusion. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Ah, of course you don't," said Malekai sagely, his lips slowly curving into a smug smirk, "because I'm speaking about the future."

"The… future?" Gavril stared at him, his lips parted open in an expression of befuddlement, before he sat up straight and demanded, astounded, "Are you telling me that your Maker has also given you the Gift of Foresight?"

"Yes, She has," quipped Malekai, his smirk widening. "She did it the moment She assigned the mission to me." Abruptly, sharp laughter bubbled from his throat and he shook his head as his voice turned snide, laced with a tone of superiority, "She thinks I blindly worship her just like the rest of my brethren does. She has no idea what's truly in my mind. I don't think She has ever understood me at all!"

His violet eyes gleamed with a harsh and vindictive glint in them, as he shuffled forward on his hands and knees to come nose-to-nose with Gavril and whisper sharply, "And She will only realize the mistake She has made when it's too late. She should have never given me the Power of Foresight. It's a mistake that will prove fatal to Her. The things I know now, the things I've seen…"

"What, exactly, have you seen?" said Gavril looking uneasy and troubled, his breathing coming out in short, halted puffs of air.

Malekai's expression turned stony and hard, as he said simply, "The Truth."

"You'll have to explain it a little bit better than that," groused out Gavril impatiently.

Malekai tilted his head to a side and then chuckled with amusement, waving a hand in an all-encompassing gesture. "Let's see… where should I start? Perhaps I should first tell you what I'll be and what I'll do when I'm in the new world." His lips curled upwards as his violet eyes gleamed brightly. "I have it all planned out. I will appear before the humans under many disguises and many forms. I'll be called many things and humans will know me under many names, Gavril. Some will be truly amusing and serve my purposes and plans well. Ha-Satan or ash-Shayṭān, the Accuser, the Adversary, I'll be called in some of their first tongues. Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies and Beasts. Belial, the Deceiver –funny, isn't it, since I'm called the Seducer and Deceiver by my kind as well."

He shot him a sharp-toothed grin, as he continued smugly, "I'll also be Leviathan, the great, powerful, monstrous snake. For some I'll be the King of Babylon. Lucifer, I'll be called by those who will believe I'm a fallen 'angel'. Or just the Devil, for they will call my kind 'demons'. And only to a chosen few, will I ever reveal my true name, for there will be power behind the utterance of it."

He moved closer to Gavril and widely smirked as he added in a low, deep tone of voice, "But out of all the legends, myths and terrified superstitious mumbles that there will be about me, only one will come close to the real truth. Ironically, it will be a legend that will not be thought to have anything to do with me – that of Pandora's Box."

Gavril was staring at him mutely, a frown on his face. At last, he said quietly, "I haven't understood a word of what you've said."

"How can I better explain it?" Malekai let out a disgruntled sigh, before he shot him a speculative glance and asked quickly, "You can guess, can you not, what my mission is? What I'm being sent there for."

Taking a deep breath, Gavril murmured with apprehension, "Your Maker wants you to destroy the little Maker and She wants to gain a foothold in the new world before my Maker does."

"Exactly. Though, evidently, She didn't put it that way," quipped Malekai, waving a hand dismissively. "She never spoke of a new little Maker. She isn't aware that I know about His existence already. She simply said that I would come to realize what I have to destroy once I'm there." He intensely pierced him with his violet gaze. "And you know what I'll be expected to do for that to happen. You know what it entails-"

"Yes, but…" Gavril shook his head, his forehead crinkling in deep thought before he pierced Malekai with his gaze and said excitedly, "But perhaps this is an opportunity for us. Perhaps the little Maker is the answer! From what I could understand of what you've told me, perhaps He exists as a balance between our Makers. Perhaps He's the key to attain peace between our realms and brethren-"

"Balance? Peace?" bit out Malekai harshly, staring at him incredulously. "If any of your brothers heard you, you would be cast to the lowest of your realms, Gavril. Only you could yearn for such things. It's not peace I want!"

Gavril tensed, his jaw tightening as he warily eyed him. "What is it that you want, then?"

"To crush Them both!" spat Malekai, his violet eyes blazing as he swiftly rose to his feet and gazed down at him, his wings spreading at his sides and powerfully fluttering. "I told you the new world represented an opportunity for me. And it truly does. I won't ever be subservient to my Maker again, or any Maker. I want to be free from the shackles that bind me to Her. I'm much greater than that – I've always been. That's why I'll 'help' the little Maker. I'll fatten Him up, I'll make Him stronger and then I'll use Him-"

"You cannot destroy our respective Makers!" interrupted Gavril in a loud, alarmed voice, standing up to grab Malekai's shoulders in an apprehensive gesture. "It would mean the death of both our kinds and the destruction of our many realms. We owe Them everything. Our very existence and powers depend on Them-"

"Does it, truly?" interjected Malekai with a sharp, nasty smile on his lips. "One day, a female human will stumble upon the solution for that. During her research, she will discover the means and way. And one day, I'll have her writings and everything will change, my friend."

Gavril dropped his hands away from Malekai, remaining stiffly still, staring at him with a horrified expression on his face as he muttered haltingly, "If you're even considering the possibility of becoming something like a Maker yourself-"

"Do you want to know what I have seen of the future?" said Malekai, ignoring Gavril's words as he pulled him towards him, breathing in the very air that came out of Gavril's parted lips. "Out of the many shifting possible futures, there's one I've chosen for myself – the only true path left for me. The one I'll make for myself. Everything I'll do in the new world, I'll do it for me, but since most of it will go in accordance to what my Maker has asked me to do, it will take Her a long time to realize what I'm truly up to. And then, She will punish me in the cruelest way, taking from me that which I price the most."

Gavril took a sharp intake of breath and whispered quietly, as if afraid to even say it out loud lest it come true, "You mean-"

"Yes, She will take away my immortality and my powers, but also my very identity," snapped Malekai sharply, his violet eyes hardening with burning hatred and loathing. "But not before I've had countless cycles during which I will set many things in motion in the new world. When She reacts, it will be, unbeknownst to Her, too late to stop everything from happening just as I've planned. It will be me outsmarting Her every step of the way, even when I'm long dead, since I know, at present, everything She'll do and all the measures She'll take throughout the ages."

He paused and then tightly clutched Gavril's shoulders, as he continued in a low, urgent tone of voice, "She will wipe my soul blank, and I'll remember and know nothing. And She will force my soul to be reborn into humans-" he spat the word as if it was the most disgusting and vile of things, since it was truly the ultimate insult to be made into one of those weak, primitive creatures "- of Her choosing, again and again, and She will feed me half-truths, molding me into her perfect, obedient and most powerful tool - what She has always wanted me to be. But in the end, it is I who will triumph, Gavril. And you'll have much to do with that."

Gavril stared at him with a stricken and horrified expression on his beautiful, glowing face. And he frantically grasped one of Malekai's hands as he breathed out, "If your Maker will end up doing those things to you, then don't go to the new world! Stay here, stay with me. I could hide you or I could-"

"No! Haven't you heard that I will be the victor in the end? I have it all planned out." Maleki shook off Gavril's grasp on his hand, and pierced him with his eyes. "And I said that you would be involved. Do you realize what I meant by that?"

"Not really, but I don't care. I don't want you to go if it means-"

"Answer me this," interrupted Malekai shortly. "What will you do the moment you leave here?"

"You know very well what I'll do," replied Gavril curtly, no signs of his usual bedazzling smile on his face. "I must tell my Father about everything. He has to know that your Maker is sending you. He needs to know about your mission. I'm sorry, but I must do it-"

"There's nothing to apologize for," interjected Malekai, smugly smirking at him. "That's exactly what I want you to do. I want your Maker to know, because when He sees what I'm doing in the new world, He'll believe I'm doing it for Mother's benefit and He'll send you to stop me. And I want your Father to gain a foothold in the new world too, because my Mother will also have one, inevitably through my actions."

He gingerly grasped Gavril's chin and bore his violet gaze into Gavril's blue one as he added in a quiet whisper, "The three Makers will be in the core of that world, just as I want. And it will change everything, Gavril. You have no idea. Everything will come to a conclusion in that world - and I mean absolutely everything. Do you understand? So I want you there."

"If my Father sends me," muttered Gavril slowly, an expression of warring emotions on his face before it became stern, "I will do what He asks, Salai. You should not want me to be there, since I will destroy you if that's my task."

Malekai let out a short bout of laughter, shaking his head as he said lightly, "That's what you believe now. But it won't be so."

He shot out a hand and swiftly pulled Gavril towards him, making them stand before the many small tiles that decorated the wall in stoic designs and symbols, the surface of the tiles so smooth that they reflected their eyes, the image multiplied across the opposite wall, filling the room with the violet and blue of their eyes.

With a strange smile on his face, Malekai touched one of the small tiles reflecting Gavril's eyes, as he murmured quietly, "The new world is filled with this color, in the vast expanses of liquid it has - the 'seas' and 'oceans'. I will think of you every time I gaze upon them, Gavril." He dropped his hand and turned to look at him, his lips curling into a smirk. "The new world also has one sun and when it sets on the horizon, for a brief moment, the sky becomes filled with streaks of violet. You'll stand staring at it, many times across time, thinking of me as you bask in its beauty - yearning."

Malekai didn't leave an inch of space between them while Gavril stared at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, and he whispered in a soft, intimate tone of voice, "Because you have always yearned for me, haven't you? And it's not because you only want us to have a tumble on my cushions to have your first experience and to see what happens to us if we join our bodies." A knowing, taunting smile slowly curved his mouth as he retracted his claws and trailed a fingertip along Gavril's full bottom lip, his gaze boring into Gavril's eyes, seeing how the swirling blue hues suddenly glowed brighter. "That's why I know that you won't destroy me. And there will come a time when I will give you what you have always secretly coveted – all of me."

He licked his lips and slowly brushed them against Gavril's, feeling how Gavril's breath hitched and then puffed out, blowing across his wet lips, sending a tingling sensation which trailed down his body, igniting him with the need to utterly ravish his 'friend', to sink his claws and teeth into him, to truly taste him and feed from him. But he harshly repressed the burgeoning, powerful desire, since what he was doing wasn't about satiating his infatuation with Gavril but to leave a strong impression and to plant certain seeds of thought in Gavril's mind.

Seeing Gavril's eyes fluttering shut, a smirk spread on Malekai's face before he softly kissed those tempting lips, as he continued in a low, compelling and seductive whisper, doubting Gavril was paying any attention to his words but knowing that he would later remember them nonetheless, "You will have me then, Gavril. Not in this life, but in the next - in our first one as humans. Even if we won't know who we were, in that life I will give you much pleasure and you will love me so profoundly that it will mark you forever. That life will be your most prized one, always treasured and cherished - the one in which you will come to understand that you love only me and that nothing else is as important to you as that. Not your loyalty to your kind or to your Father. It's only I who will matter to you, and everything you'll do, you'll do it for me. Won't you?"

Still with his eyes closed, Gavril gave him a distracted nod, leaning forward and seeking more of Malekai's lips. Repressing a smug chuckle, Malekai shook his head and pulled away to tightly grab Gavril's chin, his expression turning stern as he said sharply, "Open your eyes. Look at me."

Gavril obeyed, and for a moment stared at him with a dazed look in his glowing blue eyes. In the next instant, he frowned and took several steps backward, to end up crossing his arms over his chest, shooting him a scowl. "You were playing with me right now, weren't you? I don't appreciate being manipulated like that. Save it for your brethren."

"I was making a point, but as much as I would enjoy continuing with what we were doing, I don't have the time for it," said Malekai nonchalantly, as he folded his wings and casually leaned against the tiled wall. "There are several more things I want you to know-"

"I'm not interested," snapped Gavril, his blue eyes sparkling with a burning fire of temperamental mutiny.

"I don't care. You will listen," interjected Malekai curtly, piercing him with a hard gaze. "Either you do it willingly or I'll force you. What will it be?"

With the feathered wings at his back fluttering with anger, Gavril shot up a hand into the air. "Have your say, then."

"Some cycles after today, you will be sent to the new world by your Father, as I already told you," said Maleki, his lips tilting upwards with satisfaction as he eyed him with half-lidded eyes. "The humans will call you 'Gabriel' and they'll call your kind 'angels'. It will be because of your actions, but mostly because of your looks."

He stretched out a hand and played with a golden curl hanging near one of Gavril's pointy ears, a smile on his lips before his hand was rudely batted away by Gavril, who still didn't look too pleased with him.

Malekai clucked his tongue, but continued calmly, "Humans are such simpletons that your deceptive light-colored looks will make them believe you're the embodiment of all that's good and noble, and never imagine the sly, cunning mind that you have behind that beautiful face of yours."

He smirked with amusement at that, before his expression turned grave as he added shortly, "One of the many things you'll do, as the wondrous 'archangel', will be to herald the coming of a so-called messiah – this you'll do following your Father's instructions for a sly plan of his. But what your Father won't tell you then is that many centuries later you'll be involved with that very same 'messiah' whose rise you prophesized to the humans. And you, along with the presumed messiah-" he let out a snide snort "- will create a magical artifact."

Propping a foot against the wall, he pushed himself forward to stand inches away from Gavril and pierced him with an intense gaze, as he continued sharply, "Now listen carefully. You will use that artifact to help me, you hear? You will seek me out, wherever I am and whoever I am."

His violet eyes narrowed, as he added with dissatisfaction, "You'll fail in your first attempt because I'll be someone who'll be so deep in my Mother's clutches that I won't hear anything you will have to say to me. But some millenia later, you'll have a second chance and you'll succeeded then – no matter what it takes, even if you have to force me or trick me. It's of the utmost importance, it will be the last chance I will have to know who I really am. If you don't succeed with that, it will mean the failure of all my plans and you would be condemning me to become my Mother's obedient puppet with no hope for escape. Is that clear?"

"Nothing is clear!" said Gavril with exasperation, his wings fluttering with irritation and anxiousness.

"You don't need to understand anything at present," snapped Malekai, urgently grasping Gavril's arms, his own worries unwittingly making him sink his claws into the flesh. "You only need to remember what I've said. One day, everything I said here, today, will make sense to you. I only ask you to remember all my words!"

"Alright," muttured Gavril with a weary sigh, sweeping a lock of hair away from his eyes. "I'll do as you ask." He shot him stern look. "But not if it goes against my Father's instructions."

Malekai scoffed unconcernedly. "You won't care as much about that, I assure you."

With disbelief and suspicion plain on his face, Gavril eyed him closely. "This is not the end of it, Salai. We need to-"

"Not the end…" trailed off Malekai, before he stared at him incredulously. "You fool – I've told you I'm leaving today! I wasn't joking. This is very much the end of what will be said between us. I won't see you again for a very long time, Gavril. And much will have changed by then."

Gavril frowned at him. "But…"

Abruptly, Malekai's pointy ears twitched as they caught the sound of distant footfalls, like thunder striking on rock, and he instantly jumped into action, shooting out widespread palms and immediately conjuring a portal into Gavril's realm.

"You must leave now - my brother is coming!"

Gavril hesitated, there was almost a wretched expression on his face, but Malekai didn't give him a chance to say anything. He wasn't one for heartfelt farewells. So he brusquely shoved his friend towards the portal, and Gavril, shooting him one last lingering and stricken glance over his shoulder, seemed to understand that there would be no parting words between them as he turned his back to Malekai and spread out his wings in preparation to return to his realm.

"Your Maker will end up punishing you, you know? He doesn't really care for you. You're just a tool to Him, as I've often warned you about," said Malekai impassively, planting the last seed in Gavril's mind as he held up a hand to casually stare at his claws, flexing his fingers. "I won't be the only one whose immortality will be ripped away from and whose soul will be played with. Your Father will do to you what my Mother will do to me. They will play with us both."

With a lazy smirk spreading on his lips, Malekai saw Gavril's back tensing and his shoulders stiffening, before Gavril mutely swooped up into mid air and dived forward.

The moment Gavril and the portal disappeared, Malekai's smirk dropped and he stared at the empty space in silence. But then he forced himself to peel his gaze away, and he jumped into action once more.

He quickly ripped from his body the scant clothes he wore, standing completely naked with his impressive, scaled wings spread in basking glory, knowing very well the tantalizing picture of power and sensuality he made.

And without another hitch of breath, he readied himself and swiftly swirled around, plastering on his face the most inviting and seductive of smiles, awaiting for his third brother to step into his rooms, knowing his brother would still be enraged, in an ominous temper, and only disposed to do one thing with him. But he had learned well, by now, exactly how to play his brother.

Suddenly, Orion was wrenched away and he was falling. His awareness fell into a deep black vortex and spun wildly, before he abruptly felt soft ground under his feet and sunlight blistering his closed eyelids.

Taking a deep gasp of air, he held up a hand to shield his eyes against the sun, which felt too bright, as he opened them. Instantly, he staggered a few steps to a side as he suddenly felt dizzy and disoriented in his new surroundings.

It felt surreal to him, to be in an overlapping of space, standing there in the Flamel's garden, with a spring of gurgling water rushing near his feet, the Holy Grail suspended in a bubble of magic, and with Arian staring at him with a dazzling and expectant smile on his face.

Arian didn't waste any time in approaching him, and his smile seemed to turn even brighter as he said softly, "What does it feel to know that you have been the mastermind behind it all, from the very beginning? What does it feel to know that everything that has happened to you in all your lives and everything that has happened in this world is because of you and because you planned it so?"

Orion simply stared at him, mute.


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

This is a very short chapter compared to others, and it doesn't have action, just some explanations that were necessary, so it will be boring for many, but it had to be written. The fun stuff will happen in subsequent chappies – and things will be picking up their pace.

As for updates, for this fic and my other ones, I cannot tell when I'll be writing and posting, since I'm still working on my thesis and don't have much free time, and things will remain like that for the foreseeable future.

Nevertheless, none of the fics are abandoned, no matter how much time passes in between updates. If I ever decide to abandon a fic, which I hope doesn't happen, ever, then I would let you know beforehand.

Please let me know of any doubts, and I hope you enjoy it, even if it is boring! *winks*

Comment: The pairings Orion/Arian and Orion/Voldemort tied in the poll on my author page. Thanks for voting! It has helped me decide some things.

* * *

**Chapter 43**

Orion kept staring at Arian without knowing what to say. His mind was like a chaotic tempest of clashing, tumultuous thoughts; all the implications of what he had seen rushing and swirling, his own mind trying to wrap itself around it, trying to let it sink and to figure out more, while he felt a modicum of frantic panic but also numbness at the inevitability of it all. He had so many questions, so many things he needed to know and so many doubts that he didn't know where to begin.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" said Arian, tilting his head to a side, contemplating him with amusement as he stood before him. "Have the things you've seen scared you, hmmm? Are you truly scared about what it all means?"

"Scared?" snapped Orion abruptly, instantly rounding on him as he gestured choppily with his hands, "I'm not scared, I'm overwhelmed! Realms, worlds, and bloody aliens?"

Arian stared at him, and suddenly let out a loud bout of chuckles as he slowly shook his head. "Aliens? Now you're thinking like a muggle. It's not we who are aliens - it's the humans. We were the Firstborns of our respective Makers, the very first ancient race of sentient and magical beings. We are Sidhe."

"Sidhe?" Orion stopped short on his tracks and blinked at him. "But that is-"

"Don't think of it in terms of the lore of pre-Christian Celtic beliefs," interrupted Arian airily, gazing at him with a patient yet slightly condescending expression on his face as he placidly paced around Orion to reach out a hand to play with the leaves of a nearby tree branch.

"Though, they got some things right when believing that we, Sidhe, were a distinct race, quite separate from human beings yet who had much contact with mortals over the ages and largely influenced their history, with powers beyond those of men. But they thought us to be fae folk or elves, that's what 'Sidhe' meant to the Celts. When in truth, it was originally a word of our Old Tongue, which means precisely that – Firstborns."

"Right," grunted Orion, briskly waving a hand dismissively, not really caring what was the proper name for what had been their kinds or the semantics of it. "But you're missing my point entirely. I don't know what to…"

He trailed off, a deep, troubled frown appearing on his forehead as he distractedly waved his wand, instantly conjuring a stone bench on which he plopped down without saying another word.

Orion sat there, unseeingly staring at the garden before him, his mind in a turmoil as he tried to make sense of things, as he tried to think of his life -and everything he had done and which had happened to him- in terms of and as an extension of his first existence as Malekai Salai.

So many things were abruptly clear to him, seeing it all through the lenses of what had been his thoughts, goals and plans as Malekai. So many manipulations which had ruled his present life seemed to have been revealed to him suddenly, seeing the truth behind it.

He felt as if the few certainties which had existed in his life had been abruptly yanked away from him, leaving him with no other option but to adjust and resort every belief he had ever held, yet… somehow, it all felt like an enlightening and monumental revelation - the very reason for his existence as he was now, the cause of why 'Gaia' wanted him to become the Vindico Atrum, his vision-like dreams, the motives behind the manipulations of his bloodlines in order to be born with the magical powers and abilities he had, the pattern of his soul's rebirths, the things he had done as Mordred when he had followed Gaia's plans, and the very war he had helped to initiate.

Even though anger, rage, and even fear of the unknown simmered in some level of his awareness and feelings, strangely enough, what he felt the most was an absolute clarity of mind and the stony calmness and determination that came with it, for he could see his present life like the end of a thread which had started with his life as Malekai.

It changed everything, yet some things remained the same and it was those things, the very fact of their immutability, which filled him with a quiet, solemn reassurance that there were many things which he had unwittingly done right, which had been meant to happen, planned beforehand eons ago – by him.

That very thought, the power of it, of what it signified, left him with an all-encompassing feeling of rightness, as if something which had been out of place during all his life had suddenly clicked into place, letting him know his true purpose, the very reason for his existence, making him feel… complete.

He found himself feeling as if he was opening his eyes for the first time, seeing everything with a clear and unhindered vision – the 'Truth', he had said in the memory, and it really was.

"Say my name," suddenly murmured Arian, so quickly had he moved that Orion abruptly found himself inches away from him, their gazes locking as Arian crouched on the grass before him, an eager expression sweeping across Arian's face – it looked almost hungry and breathless. "Say my true name."

Yanked away from his eerie calmness, now bewildered, Orion stared at him and automatically parted his mouth open and breathed out, "Gavr-"

In the next second, he clamped his mouth shut, apprehension and suspicion coiling in his stomach as he remembered the strange importance that Arian had given to the fact that Perenelle Flamel had used her last, dying breath to say 'Gavril'.

He looked at him levelly and finally said coolly, "Gabriel."

Instantly, Arian's expression changed to one of wry disappointment. Letting out a dry chuckle, he nonchalantly straddled the stone bench, facing Orion, as he said conversationally, "That's how muggles say it, n'est-ce pas? I want you to say it how it's said in our Old Tongue."

"Then you say my name first," interjected Orion, crossing his arms over his chest as he shot him a narrowed-eyed stare, hard and challenging.

"Why, certainly," said Arian lightly, a dazzling, large smile spreading on his handsome face. "Salai."

A harsh snort escaped from Orion as his eyes narrowed to slits, his mind spinning with suspicions. "That's not really it and you know it. Not even wild hippogriffs would drag my first 'true' name out of you, would they?"

They mutely stared at each other as if they had reached an impasse, Arian looking amused as always, while Orion inwardly revised all the tidbits of information that allowed him to understand some of the how's and why's.

He had read something in Calypso's notes about muggle religions - something about the Devil's name, something about Satan-worshippers of ancient times trying to figure out their Lord's name to use it for rituals or some such tripe. He would have to check that when he got back, but he was quite certain he was right, and in the memory…

" 'Only to a chosen few, will I ever reveal my true name, for there will be power behind the utterance of it,' that's what I said to you," said Orion stoically, piercing Arian with an assessing and speculative gaze. "And there's power behind the utterance of your name as well, isn't there? What happened when Perenelle said your name? What happens when anyone says either of our names as pronounced in the so-called Old Tongue? What power did we confer to it and why?"

Arian simply thinly smiled at him, making himself comfortable on the hard bench, looking as if he might as well be placidly lounging on top of a puff of cloud, basking under glorious sunshine.

"And those are, no doubt, the first of many questions you would like to have answers for, hmmm?" said Arian pleasantly, his smile widening as he gestured at their surroundings. "But we cannot stay here chatting, my nemesis. An overlapping of space isn't something easily maintained for long."

Calm as you please, Arian held up a hand and the Holy Grail - still inside a translucent sphere of magic - floated until it rested above his palm, while he stretched out his other hand towards Orion, the offer implicit. "Come with me and I'll answer all your questions. Come with me and you'll be able to see things for yourself if you drink again from the Holy Grail."

Without a second thought, Orion lifted his own hand, coming forth to reach Arian's, since it was true that he needed to know much more about what he had glimpsed in the memories, for his suspicions and everything he believed to have figured out for himself needed to be confirmed.

Yet, he suddenly halted his hand mid-way, throwing a glance over his shoulder, as if expecting to see those who were in Scrimgeour's office. He saw nothing but the blossomed flowers and the shrubbery of the Flamel's garden, but in his mind he could see those who waited for him to come back, doing Merlin-knew-what while he was trapped there with Arian.

His hand was inches away from Arian's but he dropped it to his side, moving back along the stone bench to regain his former seat, as he shook his head and said curtly, "No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

In the bat of an eyelash, the Holy Grail disappeared in a puff of air, while Arian shifted forward and tightly clutched Orion's shoulders, his expression annoyed and impatient. "You cannot mean to go back and proceed with your old plans! Your goals must have changed now that you know about whom you had been and how you felt about your Maker-"

"My goals?" snapped Orion, briskly jerking away from Arian's grasp as he leveled at him a sour scowl. "What do you know about my goals? Nothing-"

"Everything, of course. I know you were on your path to become your Maker's puppet," interjected Arian sternly, piercing him with hard, cerulean blue eyes which had none of their usual playful spark. "And if you continue with the war, you'll be doing exactly what She wants-"

"True," interrupted Orion coolly, facing him with a nonchalant pose, with no misgivings or doubts burbling in his mind, the same strange calmness and determination of before sweeping again through him.

He leveled at Arian a hard gaze and added quietly as he shook his head, "But do you think that my goal of becoming the VA and winning the wars was because I wanted to help 'Gaia'? Oh, it was, in part, and now I think quite differently about Her, but it doesn't change the fact that what mattered most to me, and still does, is the fate of dark wizarding kind. That hasn't changed. For me, it was never about the Dark Source, it was about the people. Do you understand? About those who depend on me, those I care for and love."

With an incredulous expression on his face and then a frown, Arian bit out with exasperation, "They are just humans, you never cared two straws about them-"

"But I am human myself!" snapped Orion, rising to his feet as he shot him a short-tempered scowl. "I'm not Salai anymore, am I? Just like you aren't 'Gabriel' either. We are both humans now-"

The rest of his words were drowned under the sound that escaped from Arian's lips, a choked laughter ringing in the vastness of the beautiful and serene garden.

Gazing at him from his seated position, Arian finally controlled his chuckles and said with amused disbelief, "Haven't you realized it yet, hmmm? I haven't been 'Arian Hyperion Valenor' since many years past. I was born as such, as a human, part light wizard, part Veela, but I'm not that anymore."

With a bright smile on his face, he stood up, facing Orion with only sparse inches between them, and with a fluid movement, he swept one hand over his face and body, a sudden glow encompassing him.

For a moment, Orion found himself blinded by the light but few seconds later he blinked repeatedly, and his jaw dropped and his emerald eyes became rounded and wide as he stared at the being that was before him – the changes in Arian were as conspicuous as a sole flame brightly glowing in endless darkness.

He felt momentarily dazed as his eyes roved over the changes: the immaculate ethereal skin which glowed with an inner light of its own, the swirling silver designs on the forehead, the bronze hair which had become golden, curled and softer, the eyes which had lost their pupils and whites, becoming pools of glimmering bright blue, the feathery wings not Veela-like anymore but now delicately gossamer and infused with golden and silver hues, looking as if they were made of pure sunlight, the aura of glowing brightness that encompassed him and the absolute perfection of his facial features – like a dream-like mirage of otherworldly, unimaginable beauty.

"I am myself again, Salai."

Entranced and breathless, Orion stepped closer to him and slowly caressed one of Arian's smooth cheeks, locking gazes with him, wide-eyed, as he murmured hesitatingly, "You were under a glamour all this time. How is this possible – how can you be Gabriel again? In this life you were born a human. How can you now be a… Light Sidhe?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Arian softly, a wide, dazzling smile on his face as he gazed at Orion with eagerness tinted with a certain sort of tenderness. "You knew both of us would recover our bodies, forms, and powers. You foresaw it, you planned it, you told me how and what to do to attain it. You already know the answer if you bother to think about it."

Taking a step back and dropping his hand, Orion fixedly stared at him, and suddenly breathed out as the revelation struck him, "Because you became the Vindico Lumen, because you underwent the so-called Ultimate Test. Gellert… Gellert told me that he believed that I would be changed, transformed…"

He distanced himself further from Arian, agitatedly shaking his head as he snapped briskly, "But he couldn't have possibly known the full truth – he would have told me! He kept a lot of things to himself but he always dropped clues so that I would someday discover things for myself, but he never indicated that he knew anything about Sidhes, or realms, or-"

"Grindelwald didn't know about us," interrupted Arian placidly, as he swept his hand over himself, his true form disappearing under the magic cast, "but he did know about the Sources, about our Makers, and he must have had his suspicions. I know that Albus knows much – not everything, but still plenty."

"And the Illuminati, what do they know?" demanded Orion sternly, rounding on him and piercing him with his eyes.

Arian's lips curved into a small smile as he replied loftily, "Only what I have told them."

"Which is?" snapped Orion curtly, his eyes narrowing to slits as he felt a modicum of apprehension.

"Not enough for them to pose a problem or threat to you – that is, if I don't want them to be such," said Arian pointedly, then waving a hand dismissively as if such concerns were mere trivialities for a being such as himself.

"Right," grunted Orion, his eyes narrowing further, the implicit warning and threat not passing unacknowledged. He moved to stand face-to-face with him, pinning him with an intense, assessing gaze, to not miss a single twitch or change in Arian's expression. "Tell me, 'friend', what did you have to do during the Test to become Gabriel again? It was Gaius who gave back to you that which He had taken away, wasn't it?"

"It was my Maker-"

"It's the same thing!" bit out Orion impatiently, glowering at him. "I can put two and two together, Gabriel. I know what Gaia and Gaius are – fractions of the Sources which are entrenched in this planet's core, because of what we did in this world, because that's how I wanted things to be. So, if the Light Source gave you back your true form and your original powers and abilities for you to become His Vindico, then you're loyal to Him."

One corner of Arian's lips quirked upwards, his azure eyes gleaming as he leaned against a tree trunk, eyeing him with a playful expression on his face. "Perhaps I tricked my Maker, hmmm? Would it be so hard to believe, my nemesis?"

"It _is _hard to believe when you keep calling me your 'nemesis'," said Orion frostily, his fingers tightening around his wand at his side. "Just answer my question – are you still loyal to Him?"

"But that's not exactly what you want to know, n'est-ce pas?" murmured Arian softly, his cerulean eyes sparkling with mischievousness.

He pushed himself away from the tree and fluidly raised a hand to play with one of Orion's black locks of hair with his fingers, leaning forward to whisper into his ear, "What you want to know is if you were right in what you said to me the day you left for this world, if I would come to 'love you so profoundly' that only you and nothing else would matter to me - that everything I would do, I would do it for you."

Orion raised his chin, dislodging Arian's playful fingers from his hair, and scoffed snidely, "I don't care about that. I care about your loyalties. I want to know if you're on my side or if you're my enemy-"

"You lie so prettily," said Arian, chuckling under his breath. "But haven't I already proven that I've been doing nothing but helping you, hmmm?" He gestured at them, and pierced him with his azure eyes as he said pointedly, "This is the 'second attempt' you spoke about, and I succeeded in making you drink from the Holy Grail so that you could know the truth."

Orion sighed wearily, carding his fingers through his hair. "Yes, I know that, but-"

"Don't you see?" interjected Arian with exasperation, firmly clutching Orion's shoulders as he bore his eyes into his. "The one thing your Maker has always kept from you, during all your rebirths, was the knowledge of who you had been in your first life – of your life as Salai. It's the one thing She fears, but She still needed you to become powerful because She has always wanted you to be Her most formidable tool. That's why, when you were Mordred, deceived by Her, without knowing the full truth, you followed all Her plans, meddling with the bloodlines of your own descendants so that your soul would be reborn along those lines, until the day came when you would be born as you are now – with the highest levels of magical power that a human body can sustain."

He abruptly released Orion, looking away from him, unfocusedly gazing into the horizon as if his mind was far away. Finally, he added quietly as he distractedly swept a lock of bronze hair from his eyes, "But, your present abilities are still nothing but a weak imitation of what your true powers were when you were Salai. Parseltongue, Necromancy, your 'raw' dark magic, as you call it, which you can shape into elemental forms or use it in its wild state, and the ability of foresight which presents itself, very weakly, in your dreams."

Arian turned around to shoot him a glance, and continued sternly, "All of these were infused into the Peverell lines because your Maker wanted you to be the best possible 'imitation' of Salai, without your original personality, rebelliousness, and independence of mind. She has been molding you."

"Yes, I see," muttered Orion quietly, nodding gravely, his jaw clenching. "I understand-"

"Apparently not nearly enough," interjected Arian solemnly, skewering him with his blue gaze. "What you feared the most was to undergo the Test to become the Vindico Atrum without knowing about your life as Salai, because then you would have been bounded to your Maker. She would have given you powers and abilities, making you believe that they were gifts, when in truth, She would simply be giving back to you the powers with which you were born with. And without knowing this, you would have been eternally grateful and loyal to Her, the perfect ignorant tool for Her to use."

Frowning, Orion stared at him as he absentmindedly rubbed his forehead. "Only She can give me back my original powers and immortality, then. That's why every time we've met you've insisted that I had to become the VA, because I'll be changed, I'll be Salai again."

"Precisely," said Arian serenely, before a wide smile stretched on his face, his azure eyes gleaming as he trailed a fingertip along Orion's bottom lip, lowering his voice as he added, "And once you're Salai, we will feel no pain, like it was before. We'll be able to join our lips, and our bodies-"

Loudly clearing his throat, feeling awkward, uncertain, and as if his desires were tugging him in different directions, Orion pulled back and said coolly, utterly ignoring the turn in the conversation, "So when I was Salai, I knew it would come to the point of me undergoing the Test to become the VA, so that I could gain back what She took from me. But how am I supposed to do it? She's the Dark Source!"

Frustration and irritation crossed Arian's handsome face as he saw the distance that Orion had put between them. Though, in the next second his expression cleared, and with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he whispered conspiratorially, "The greatest weapon you now posses against Her is your awareness of who you had been, n'est-ce pas? That's your most important secret, and She mustn't find out that you already know about your life as Salai. As long as you do that, you'll only be confronting Gaia during the Test, not the entirety of your Maker. Do not give Her reason to suspect you - reason to focus Her whole mind and powers on you while you undergo the Test - and everything will go well."

Pausing, he shot him a bright smile and chuckled under his breath. "You only have to outsmart Her – that's what you said to me. You are the Deceiver, Salai. When the time comes, you'll know what to do." Abruptly, his expression changed. He eyed him gravely, his gaze assessing and piercing, as he added quietly, "That is, if you want to become Salai. Do you, hmmm?"

"Perhaps," said Orion coolly, waving a hand dismissively.

Arian's expression hardened as he leaned his face forward and murmured softly, "There are no 'perhaps'. Whether we are enemies or allies is up to you and the choices you make, but regardless, you will become Salai even if I have to force you. And, foremost, friends or foes, you will fulfill the promise you made to me, because I did everything you wanted me to do. You owe me and you will have to pay the price. It's only fair, n'est-ce pas?"

Orion gaped at him before he pulled himself together, squaring his shoulders and scoffing, "What price? What promise? I made no promises-"

"Oh yes, you did," interrupted Arian, flashing him with a pearly-white smile. " 'I will give you what you have always secretly coveted – all of me,' that was your promise, our pact. That has been dangling in front of my nose for ages."

His bright smile broadened, and a playful glint glimmered in his blue eyes. "And I don't think it will constitute a sacrifice from your part – you've always wanted me too, Salai, hmmm? Even as you are now, just Orion Black, you want me – I've always been able to perceive it. It's obvious every time we meet."

Orion shifted were he stood, his expression mulish and irked, before he slightly cleared his throat, forced himself to stop fidgeting, and said stoically, "Be that as it may, what might happen between us...er… 'romantically', should be the least of our concerns. And it's certainly the last thing in my mind."

He pulled himself to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest as he gazed at Arian fixedly. "For starters, I want clarifications about some things I said to you in the last memory-"

"If you want answers," interrupted Arian loftily, his lips quirking upwards as his cerulean blue eyes glinted, "I've already offered to give them to you if you come with me."

"Surely the great, all-powerful 'archangel' Gabriel can sustain an overlapping of space for a few more minutes," said Orion with a sneering and challenging tone lacing his voice. "Surely there's no need for me to go anywhere. You can answer right here and right now."

Arian eyed him with amusement, and finally let out a single wry chuckle, before he said impassively, "Very well, ask away."

"Um, okay," mumbled Orion, a bit startled by his easy victory, while he quickly sorted in his mind the many questions swirling around. He suddenly lifted his head up to stare at him and asked abruptly, "What about our, er, realms? Do they still exist? And what about my… brothers, do they still live?"

Arian raised his eyebrows, eyeing him coolly as he said placidly, "Do you really care, hmm? Your brothers meant little to you, Salai. Why are you asking me this, are you – _concerned_?"

"No. Yes – I'm just curious!" snapped Orion with irritation, shooting him an irked glare. "Just answer the questions."

"You can find out yourself," said Arian dismissively, his handsome face turning stony. Abruptly, he shot him a small, wry smile, and added conversationally, "You have already met Virgilio, after all. You will become his apprentice, n'est-ce pas?"

"Virgil - The Argonaut?" asked Orion bewildered. "What does he have to do with anything?"

A bout of laughter bubbled out from Arian's lips, and he clapped a hand on Orion's shoulder as he raised his eyebrows tauntingly. "Don't tell me that you thought that the great Virgilio, who has never deigned to take an apprentice before, simply accepted to take you under his wing because he yielded to the Guild's wishes! Or because he was impressed by your Necromantic abilities or by the fact that you – as you are now - are the descendant of the first Dementor."

With a last chuckle, he shot Orion a patronizing glance, and clicked his tongue. "None of that would impress him, or sway him. Oh no, his reasons are other." Staring at Orion's puzzled expression, he leaned forward, with a large smile on his lips as he whispered softly, "Surely you know who and what he is."

"I don't know what you mean. He's strange, granted, and I know he has some creature blood in him," said Orion scowling at him defensively, his teeth gritting. "I saw his soul when I was fighting Cadmus, and it was different from the other Necromancers'-"

" 'Some' creature blood?" burst out Arian, his ringing laughter filling the space between them. "He's a Halfling – the only one that has ever existed!"

Baffled, Orion stared at him, a deep frown on his face as he said slowly, "You mean that he's half human and half-"

"You said you saw their souls," interrupted Arian, apparently dismissing their current topic of conversation to instead intently pierce his blue gaze into Orion's green one, as he raised his eyebrows, "so did you see your own?"

Startled by the abrupt question, Orion could do nothing but reply honestly, "No – how could I? From my own line of vision I can't see it in its entirety." He demonstrated by lowering his chin to stare at nothing but his chest, before he glanced up at him and added dismissively, "And there are no Necromantic 'mirrors', or some such thing, that I know of-"

"Then I advise that you ask one of your Necromancer friends to take a peek at your soul and describe what they see to you." One corner of Arian's lips quirked upwards as his blue eyes gleamed. "It would be very… enlightening… for you, my nemesis. Yes, you'll find it most interesting."

"What's that supposed to mean?" spat Orion suspiciously, his eyes narrowing to slits. "If you have something to say, just spit it out."

"It was just a friendly suggestion," said Arian serenely, nonchalantly rolling one of his shoulders. "No need to get so riled up, hmm?"

"Fine, it's duly noted. Now, don't change subjects," bit out Orion sharply, leveling at him a hard gaze. "You were telling me about Virgil-"

"Really, the old man never told you?" interrupted Arian with disbelief.

"What bloody old man?" snapped Orion caustically, throwing up a hand into the air with exasperation, his patience having reached its limit with Arian's circuitous ramblings.

Arian shook his head with amusement, chuckling under his breath. "Virgilio is mainly interested in you because the father who abandoned him, the father he never knew, took you under his wing, treating you as his own son and secretly helping you on occasions. At Durmstrang you were his favorite, n'est-ce pas?"

Orion hitched a sharp intake of breath, his eyes round as he feebly mumbled, "You mean Vulcan Vagnarov?" He briskly shook his head and spat harshly, "But Vulcan couldn't have been Virgil's father! Loki Njord told me Virgil has been The Argonaut for several centuries, that makes him older than Vulcan ever was-"

"Time flows differently in and between others realms, certainly you knew this already, hmmm?" interjected Arian calmly, a slight smile gracing his lips. "Virgil wasn't born here, but in one of your realms, Salai." He shot him a speculative glance and added quietly, "The old man never told you why he didn't complete his training in the Guild?"

"Vagnarov said he decided he didn't need to become a full-fledged Necromancer…" Orion trailed off, frowning deeply before he glanced at Arian and added in a low murmur, "Once, he said something about shadows-"

"The Shadows, yes… very nasty creatures - your third brother's most 'sublime' creation," said Arian dryly, before he started to chuckle under his breath. "I believe it was them who drove Vagnarov away from your home world, the moment your Maker discovered what he had done."

"What did he do?" demanded Orion instantly, piercing him with his eyes, his gaze inquisitive and searching. "Say I believe you, then - how could he have been Virgil's dad?"

Arian shot him a wide, bright smile as he lounged against the tree trunk at his back. "Imagine this, Salai: a young Vulcan Vagnarov starting his Necromantic training at the Guild, wide-eyed with fascination and curiosity, entranced by the mere idea of being able to see the other realms, he decides he wants to become the next Argonaut of the Guild, to be their Ambassador and traveler of realms. Mid-way during his journeys across the cosmos, he reaches your home world to establish Guild-Dark Sidhe relations, and there, he laid eyes upon someone he knew he shouldn't – one of your kind's females."

His smile broadened and he pointedly stared at Orion. "I don't have to elucidate what happened between them, hmmm? You already know all about the 'bees and flowers' and have vast experience in it, n'est-ce pas?"

He shot him a thin, bitter smile, before he added disinterestedly, "I don't know why she willfully lay with him - she knew it was forbidden to her kind and gender, she knew the price she would have to pay for flaunting the laws of your brethren and Maker, and just for a human who couldn't have been tempting or attractive to her eyes. But I know why Vagnarov did it; that female was, reputedly, the most seductive, dangerous, and beautiful of your kind – she was the forbidden fruit, so to speak. Young Vagnarov was simply swept off his feet."

Arian paused, observing Orion's silence and deeply musing and expectant expression, he continued conversationally, "The moment your brethren discovered that she had become pregnant with Vagnarov's seed, your Maker's wrath was frightening to behold. Vagnarov, having broken several Guild rules and the laws of your brethren, escaped death by mere luck. He fled from your home world before the Shadows could get to him – he returned to his home, to Earth, yet he wasn't welcomed in the Guild either. Unable to complete his Necromantic training, he turned to the only place left to him – Durmstrang, to become one of Morgana's spirit's servants, to become an Aux Atrum to gain your Maker's forgiveness. He quietly stood behind the scenes for a very long time, forbidden from ever seeing or contacting his ill-gotten son, supposedly submitting himself to your Maker and repenting for his actions."

With enjoyment visible in his handsome features, Arian shot him a wide, sparkling smile as he added in a low, amused tone of voice, "Yet, Vagnarov must have never been loyal to Her, hmmm? I believe he came to despise Her. Perhaps, he did truly fall in love with the female Dark Sidhe. And forced to be away from her and never know his son, he led a sorrowful, lonely life, but also grew embittered. Though, he took his revenge as he could – he helped you several times, n'est-ce pas? When he was ordered not to."

"Vulcan…" whispered Orion, feeling a stabbing, piercing twist of grief for his old, departed friend. Then he exhaled loudly and plopped down on the stone bench, as he muttered quietly, "And the Sidhe female? What happened to her?"

"She was punished harshly – banished to the lowest of your realms," replied Arian placidly, "to live a cursed existence, because she further refused to kill the life that grew within her. She gave birth to her son there, but of course, she couldn't keep him – a Halfling was nothing but an abomination in your brethren's eyes, a weak and unwanted creature fathered by a mere human. Somehow, she managed to convince one of her kind to take the baby somewhere where he would be safe. The baby was abandoned at the very entrance of the Guild, and there, a Spanish Necromancer found him and took him under his wing, naming the baby 'Virgilio' and raising him in the Guild. The Necromancers knew who he was but they never laid the sins of the father upon the son, and they told Virgilio the truth when he grew old enough to understand it-"

"And when he started his training, Virgil chose to become the next Argonaut," muttered Orion quietly, glancing up at Arian. "To know more about his origins - to perhaps find his mother? Did he?"

Arian shrugged indifferently, without saying a word in response.

"At the very least, he found the realms, that's certain," murmured Orion quietly to himself, as he looked up at the clear, cloudless blue sky, as if wishing he could see through it and across the unimaginable, vast distance, something resembling both apprehension and excited eagerness coiling in his stomach. "Then the realms, in whatever condition they are now, do still exist. And my brothers could still be there."

He yanked himself from his musings, and pinned Arian with his gaze. "Virgil never saw Vagnarov, and now Vulcan is already dead. Father and son were never reunited, yet I was the link between them - they knew I knew them both. Virgil knows who I am, doesn't he?"

"I believe he strongly suspects it," said Arian calmly, intently gazing at him. "The questions is: what's his agenda - because make no mistake, he has one of his own. The very fact that he has agreed to take you as his apprentice, indicates this."

Orion frowned at him, fidgeting and tugging on his robes' stiff collar. "You think he will take me to my realm-"

"If he does," interrupted Arian instantly, a stern and grave expression suffusing his handsome face, "then it would be very dangerous for you. In no occasion must you do anything that would cast suspicion on you – never must you show that you know anything about 'Salai'. Your realm is your Maker's home world, She's most strong and powerful there."

He paused and eyed Orion speculatively, before he added wryly, "If I could, I wouldn't let you go anywhere with Virgilio, but you made a pact with the Guild which you cannot break. Or perhaps don't want to, hmmm? Then again, I believe whatever happens with Virgilio and you, it's something you want it to happen. 'The Halfling could be my greatest ally against Her', that's what you said to me. I didn't believe, back then, that you could possibly be right in speaking about the future existence of a Halfling. I was sure you were mistaken."

"I foresaw Virgil's existence too?" said Orion arching an eyebrow at him, before a wide smirk broke on his face. "Then that settles it, wouldn't you say? I can deal with whatever he doles out, and if I can truly gain him as an ally, I will find a way to accomplish it."

Without another hitch of breath, he gazed at him searchingly and asked coolly, "Tell me, Gabriel, all these things you've been saying I told you – that didn't happen before I left. It happened when I was already here and when you were later sent to this world by the Light Source, didn't it? So we-"

"We met in secret, covertly, numerous times," said Arian airily, as he raised a hand to play with the dusky green leaves fluttering in the breeze in a nearby, overhanging branch. "You never stopped seeking me out, always trying to convince me to see things your way, to support your plans and goals."

Orion rose to his feet, making Arian stare at him, meeting his gaze squarely as he demanded shortly, "What, exactly, did we do in this world? What did I mean by mentioning the legend of Pandora's Box?"

"We shaped the history of human kind, of course," said Arian tersely, a wide, dazzling smile spreading on his face. "We made this world our… 'playground'."

Orion's vibrant green eyes narrowed to slits, and he bit out with exasperation, "No matter how much I ask about it, you won't tell me more, will you? Not unless I go with you, which I won't."

"Your loss," said Arian loftily, shrugging one shoulder.

Orion shot him a baleful glower before he slowly sat down on the stone bench once again, pushing himself to ponder about one thing, above all others, which lingered most predominantly in his mind.

Absentmindedly contemplating the spring of water which rushed a few feet away from him, he began to say slowly, "I said to you that one day there would be a woman who would discover the way of severing the dependence that all magical beings have with the Sources, without resulting in the loss of their magic, their death, or the destruction of the realms." He peeled his gaze away from the spring and keenly pierced his gaze into Arian's. "Whom was I speaking about? You must know by now."

"Whom do you think you were referring to, hmm?" said Arian placidly, eyeing him calmly as he leaned once again against the tree trunk at his back.

"If I knew for sure I wouldn't be asking you," snapped Orion dourly, shooting him a dark glare. He huffed with annoyance before briskly carding his fingers through his hair, as he muttered, "It has to be Rowena Ravenclaw. I remember the things Salazar Slytherin wrote in his journals about Ravenclaw's research – she was obsessed with discovering the Origin of Magic. Her research was, supposedly, about the Balance that had to be maintained between the Sources, so she knew about Them. I think She must have also known about the little Maker, about the Neutral Source of Magic that made this world his home and gave it life. But I don't know how she came to discover so much back in the times when she lived, when many things about magic were still unknown-"

"That's no mystery," interrupted Arian with a soft snort, one of his eyebrows arching tauntingly. "Don't tell me that you believe everything that's written in textbooks. Don't tell me that you, as all other wizards, believe that Rowena created a magical artifact that simply served to grant her greater intelligence. Why would she need that, when she was already astoundingly brilliant, hmmm?"

"What are you babbling about?" bit out Orion shortly, piercing him with narrowed eyes. "Her tiara grants intelligence, I'm sure about that."

"Are you?" said Arian chuckling, eyeing him with a mocking expression on his handsome face. "Based on what? On what Tom Riddle in the Slytherin locket said to you? What would Riddle know about it – he never bothered to fully study the tiara to unlock its secrets, to him it was simply a convenient, famous little trinket in which to house a piece of his soul, to boost his own ego."

He scoffed disparagingly, and added curtly as he pinned Orion with his gaze, "I know this for a fact, since I have looked into his life and that's exactly how he thought of the tiara. Or perhaps you're basing your certainty on Slytherin's scribblings in his journals?" He raised his eyebrows and shot him a small, taunting smile. "Salazar never took a real interest in Rowena's research. He thought it was utter folly. Between us, I think he didn't have the capacity to even comprehend what it was all about."

Irked at the jibe, Orion crossed his arms over his chest and gritted out, "Alright. Since it seems that you know everything, undoubtedly because you have used that post-cognitry ability of yours to look into the past of anyone who remotely sparks your interest, then tell me, what does the tiara do?"

"Right now, nothing at all," replied Arian glibly, his lips quirking upwards. "Riddle, the arrogant, megalomaniac idiot, spoiled several unique magical artifacts when creating his pretty little horcruxes, didn't he?"

His lips curved into a broad smile, as he added serenely, "I'm sure you know this already. I'm sure you had to work on the Resurrection Stone, to rid it of Riddle's piece of soul so that it could work with its full powers. It's the same case with the tiara. It will only be useful when you destroy the horcrux within-" He held up a hand the moment Orion parted his mouth open, Arian's expression turning mildly sour as he bit out "- or just transfer the piece of soul from it to another receptacle, since it seems you foolishly refuse to destroy one of your dear Voldemort's parasitic pests."

"And if I did that," said Orion nonchalantly, yet his gaze was keenly fixed on Arian, "then what would the tiara do? What powers does it have?"

"How do you think Rowena came to discover the existence of the Makers?" said Arian laughing loudly. "Why do you think she spent all her days and nights locked up in her Astronomy Tower, standing at the very top, with the tiara on her head as she gazed at the dark skies? Just because she thought that the twinkling little stars were pretty?"

He shot Orion an amused and condescending smile, before he leaned towards him and whispered into his ear, "Can't you guess what it does, Salai? Imagine the whole universe opening itself up before your eyes, with no secrets that could be hidden from you, imagine being able to see through worlds, stars, suns and galaxies, imagine being able to sense every nexus of magic flowing in the cosmos, to see all the realms and the heart of magic that beats in their core, imagine being able to travel through space with your mind and awareness alone. That's what Rowena created, and that's how she discovered the existence of the three Sources of Magic and was able to study them, without being sensed or perceived."

Orion tilted his head upwards, directly staring into Arian's eyes as he breathed out eagerly, excitement and wonderment bubbling inside him, "If it can really do that, then it's priceless. Then I could use it to better understand the Sources, to figure out how I could attain independence from them, for all of us-"

"Then, you're indeed saying that you want to become Salai," interjected Arian, intensely locking gazes with Orion, a glowing, victorious smile spreading on his face, his azure eyes gleaming brightly.

"Bloody hell, of course I want to be Salai again!" burst out Orion adamantly, as he swiftly carded his fingers through his hair, biting his lower lip before they curved into an ecstatic grin, as he animatedly paced before Arian. "Not because I want to gain back immortality-" he scrunched his nose "- I don't think I'll like that much. And not even because of the powers I'll have, but because it's necessary for me to be Salai if I want to succeed in the goal I had. If it's truly possible to accomplish, then I want to see it done, and only I can do it, I suppose, but…" He turned around and shot Arian a baffled glance. "But I said I would have her writings, and none of Ravenclaw's survived the passage of time."

"Again, not true," said Arian pleasantly, one corner of his lips tilting upwards. "She wrote her research notes and discoveries in three scrolls, the Ravenclaw Scrolls – those still exist."

"I've never heard about that!" exclaimed Orion, highly miffed, scowling at the very fact that he had never seen it mentioned in any books or even heard any rumors about it. His expression brightened in the next second and he excitedly grabbed one of Arian's forearms. "You must know where the Scrolls are – you've looked into her past, haven't you? If she hid them someplace secret, all those centuries ago, then you can know where I can find them. Or if anyone discovered them, then you can know who it was and where they are now-"

"Oh, no, that's something you'll have to do on your own," interrupted Arian loftily as he chuckled under his breath and leaned against the tree, as if placidly lounging in a sunbathing spot. "I rather see you going around like a headless chicken, frantically looking for them. It will be very entertaining, wouldn't you say, hmmm?"

"Fine, whatever," bit out Orion acerbically, shooting him a venomous look before he widely smirked at him. "It matters little. I'll find them, and anyway, I already know where the tiara is. I will take out the piece of soul inside it and restore it, and then I'll be able to use it and-"

"Rowena's tiara is not meant for you," interjected Arian swiftly, his tone stern and curt as he pierced him with his eyes, "this you told me yourself. You will give it to someone else."

"What on earth are you talking about?" snapped Orion harshly, staring at him incredulously. "Why would I give it away? It's clear that I had planned on using it myself-"

"Not at any point did I confirm to you that Ravenclaw was the woman you were referring to, n'est-ce pas?" said Arian placidly, raising his eyebrows at him. "Oh, no, Rowena discovered much but her daughter stole the tiara before she could conclude her research. Rowena never found the 'solution', as you called it."

Orion blinked at him, then frowned confusedly as he said slowly, "But then… who-"

" 'She will be a child of the little Maker, unsurpassed in intelligence, mediocre in power, ravaged by sorrow, and her mind will be mine,' that's what you said to me about her."

"A child of… a muggleborn… her mind-" Orion clamped his mouth shut before his eyes widened and he gasped out, "Merlin's balls of fire - Hermione Granger?"

Arian solemnly nodded at him. "I knew it was her of whom you had spoken the moment I laid eyes on her - the moment I saw her with Albus' Treatise in her hands and saw the mark of a mind-possession curse in her eyes."

"So she's the one," whispered Orion under his breath, unseeingly gazing into vacant air. "She's the one I'll give the tiara and the Scrolls to, and who will complete Ravenclaw's research and discover the way in which I can attain my goal."

With a snap, he turned his head to stare at Arian and said breathlessly, "Is this why I did nothing to prevent the Dark Source from forcing my soul into rebirths as She pleased, because I was waiting to live when Hermione did? Because I was waiting for her to exist?"

"You were not only waiting for Granger," said Arian coolly. "You waited for Ravenclaw, Slytherin, the Peverells, and many others to exist and create things that you foresaw you would need. You waited for all your tools to exist and be at your disposal – tools: magical artifacts and people."

He shot Orion a thin, wry smile, and slowly approached him as he lowered his voice into a murmur, "At present, there are only three 'tools' which don't exist, and which you planned and wanted to have so they could be used – the most vital and important ones, according to you. The Lady of the Lake has told you about them already."

Orion swallowed thickly, before he said hoarsely, "You mean… my own children?"

"Does it surprise you?" Arian dryly chuckled and raised his eyebrows. "You were ruthlessly heartless, Salai, make no mistake. You were single-mindedly focused in securing your own greatness, survival, and true rebirth, and in seeing your masterplan come to fruition, and everyone else are just there to be used as means to an end. And not even I know all the things you set in motion, all the 'tools' that you plotted to have at your disposal for when you were yourself again."

Abruptly, he clutched Orion's chin, lifting it up until their gazes met, a bitter smile on his lips as he murmured quietly, "I even think you thought of me as a tool as well, Salai, because you waited for me too – for me to be born a Dumbledore."

"That's hardly something I could have plotted," bit out Orion sharply, wrenching his chin free from Arian's grasp, his emerald eyes narrowing to slits.

"I am what I am because of you, Salai," retorted Arian, his lips tugging upwards. "You made sure of that by telling me about the first attempt I would make to make you drink water from the Holy Grail."

"I don't understand what you mean," said Orion impatiently, shooting him an annoyed scowl. "That first attempt was when you were Galahad and I was Mordred, and I said you wouldn't succeed and you tried anyway. That's hardly my fault."

Arian shook his head and chuckled lowly under his breath. "It's because you said I would do it, that I did it."

"So you trusted me blindly - that I had some secret reason for telling you that?" scoffed Orion snidely, defensively crossing his arms over his chest. "That makes no sense."

"When I was Galahad and found the Holy Grail, drank from it and remembered everything, I knew you had told me about my 'first attempt' for a specific reason. Did I trust you blindly? No, not quite. I trusted your deviousness and I trusted the fact that I knew that you wouldn't let go of me and that someday you would need me to be Gabriel again."

Arian pierced him with his eyes, as he added tartly, "In the years I spent looking for you, before I found you in Bornholm Island building your precious Durmstrang, I lived in many places and I came to know many people. I had a daughter, Salai. And I know you meant for that to happen."

"A daughter?" mumbled Orion perplexed. "But if you were Galahad back then, then she was..."

"Do you see it now?" said Arian nonchalantly, propping one foot against the base of a tree as he leaned backwards to gaze at him impassively.

"Yes," muttered Orion quietly, then raising his eyes to bore his gaze into his. "Calypso and I speculated about the possibility, but we weren't sure. Now, I know. Your daughter's descendants came to be the Dumbledore line, didn't they? And when you had her, when you were Galahad back then, Merlin had already made you his magical heir and through your daughter you passed that down along the Dumbledore line. In your case, there were no Spirits to manipulate your bloodlines. Who did that, was me, with a mere sharing of a tidbit of what I had foreseen about your attempts."

Though, an unvoiced thought pervaded in his mind. He could believe that as Malekai, he had done things to ensure that 'Galahad' would have offspring and thus pass on Merlin's magic, foreseeing that it would result in Gavril being born a Dumbledore. But, ultimately, who had made Gavril's soul to be reborn into Arian Valenor could be no one but the Light Source. He doubted that even as Malekai Salai he could have had the power over the reincarnations of souls.

That posed the undying question of whether Gavril and his Maker had reached some sort of pact, forgiving and forgetting past transgression in order to work together towards a common goal, or at the very least, whether Gavril had his own agenda. The latter, Orion didn't doubt. There was one thing for sure that Gavril wanted: to have Salai back. But what else was he plotting? Did Gavril really come to completely align himself with Salai, sharing his same aims?

Orion filed those thoughts away in his mind, and silently studied Arian before he said coolly, "Then you should thank me, Gabriel. I've made you more powerful than you would have otherwise been - Merlin's magic flows in your veins, after all, due to me."

"Do you hear me complaining, hmm?" said Arian loftily, waving a hand dismissively before he widely smiled at him, his voice turning taunting and challenging, "You realize, don't you, that it means that Albus is also Merlin's magical descendant? I wonder if you didn't foresee that or if-"

"I foresaw it, I have no doubt, but Albus Dumbledore poses no threat to me – his sister was the inordinately powerful one, not him. He's nothing," snapped Orion caustically, shooting him a glare. Abruptly, he smirked at him and added nonchalantly, "Well, he does have his uses – he serves to distract Voldemort, doesn't he? I rather have Voldemort fighting Dumbledore than taking a real interest in the things I've been keeping from him."

Arian shot him a dazzling smile, his azure eyes gleaming with amusement. "It seems you're relearning how to think as when you were Salai."

"I'm being myself," groused out Orion irritably. "I don't need to be 'Salai' in order to be smart and sly, mind you."

"Let's test that, then," said Arian merrily, something playful and mischievous in his eyes. "I want to make a little deal with you. You have something I want back and I have something you need. Tit for tat."

Orion eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want?"

"Gryffindor's Sword," said Arian archly, expectantly looking at him. "I know you have it. Albus told me you stole it from his office a couple of years ago."

"What on earth do you want it for?" Utterly surprised, Orion stared at him fixedly. "I know it's not to destroy horcruxes with it. So, why?"

"I have my reasons," said Arian in a casual and dismissive tone of voice.

Suddenly, a suspicion crept in Orion's mind, but he didn't dare voice it, he simply steadily gazed at him and asked calmly, "What would I get in return?"

"Albus Dumbledore served on a platter," replied Arian pleasantly, his lips tugging upwards, "so that you can take the Elder Wand from him, once and for all."

Arching an eyebrow, Orion scoffed at him, "That's all?" He then shot him a nasty smirk. "Ah, yes, it's the best you can offer, isn't it? Because you cannot kill him, he made sure of that when he acknowledged you as a Dumbledore through a blood ritual, and you're still binded to it, even now when you're Gabriel again." He mockingly tutted at him. "My, my, Gabriel, you dropped the ball there, didn't you? Outsmarted by a human… what would your Maker say?"

Arian thinly smiled at him, his cerulean blue eyes -under the glamour, so like Albus'- gleaming brightly, as he said impassively, "Do we have a deal?"

"I'm sure you know the answer already," said Orion shortly. "No."

Abruptly, ringing laughter bubbled out from Arian's throat before he shook his head with amusement. "Ah, I think I know why you refuse. You have plans for the Elder Wand, hmmm? Perhaps, you're going to let Voldemort have it first, letting him wrench it from Albus' dead hands, to see what your deranged, little psychopath would do then, n'est-ce pas? It would be so like you to do that. You're going to test him – to see if he turns against you!"

Orion merely raised an eyebrow, not peeping a word. Though, inwardly, he wasn't at all pleased that he was so transparent to him.

"Bravo!, I say." With a broad, pearly-white smile on his face, Arian clapped his hands noisily, making a taunting and exaggerated show of it.

Suddenly, when Orion was about to snap at him, he almost tilted over when the ground seemed to start shaking. Disconcerted, he glanced around, and saw how their surroundings looked as if they were fading, like an image being fractured, split, and shedding layers, becoming fuzzier with each passing second.

"What's happenin-"

"Ah, that must be your 'beloved'," said Arian mockingly, not looking at all startled as he moved quickly and pulled Orion against him. "It seems he found a way to break the overlapping of space – which isn't surprising, given how thoroughly the psycho has studied all sorts of magic." His voiced turned urgent and grave as he added in a sharp whisper, "Now that you know the truth, you'll stop the war, n'est-ce pas?"

"What? No – of course not!" Orion struggled with Arian's firm clutch around his body, but the arms around his waist and chest which pinned him against Arian, seemed to be made of hard marble.

He desisted as everything seemed to be crumbling around him, catching glimpses of Scrimgeour's office, and the people there, through the fading image of the Flamel garden. He could even hear the frantic voices of his Elite coming into his ears by the spell they had all cast on themselves earlier that day.

He finally tilted his head backward to glance at Arian, and hissed under his breath, "Don't you get it, Gabriel? During my dreams, I have many visions, but there's one that I now know comes from Her - I see myself in a scorched battlefield, leading a massive army of dark wizards and creatures, and when the two sides clash and fight, my warriors start chanting my name; they start with 'Lord Black' and then it changes into a zealous roar of 'Vindico, Vindico, Vindico!'. That's what She wants, and that's what She must believe She'll get."

"What are you saying, Salai?" whispered Arian in a low, harsh voice, for a moment painfully tightening his clutch around Orion before he loosened it. "If you continue with the war, and those which will come after it, millions will be killed-"

"Were you expecting me to openly lead an insurrection against the Dark Source? Or to covertly plan it for when the right time comes?" Orion shot him a disdainful glance over his shoulder. "It's clear to me now - I understand more than you do and more than you believe yourself to be aware of. I foresaw _everything_, Gabriel! That includes this moment and my current relationships with 'humans', and I knew what decisions I would now make. I have faith in the things I did and plotted as Salai, that everything has gone exactly how I meant it to happen, how I foresaw and planned for. No – I will change nothing. I won't drop the war, I won't modify any of my old plans, and She'll never suspect me or see me coming when I finally confront Her in Avalon."

For a moment, Arian said nothing, and then he briefly nodded as he shot him a piercing glance. "As you wish, Salai. Now… here's a good idea – you want to test him, n'est-ce pas? Then let's test him now." He leaned into Orion and playfully nibbled his earlobe as he continued in a soft, mischievous whisper, "And you better play along unless you want me to spill some of your 'secrets' to him."

Orion realized what he was talking about in the next second, when there was nothing left of the Flamel's garden and he completely found himself in Scrimgeour's office, the Death Eaters and his Elite forming a circle around Arian and him. They had all become suddenly silent.

Voldemort stood right before the two of them, crimson eyes narrowed, wand aimed forward, his gaze coldly assessing and calculating.

It didn't help matters that Arian still had Orion trapped in his arms and continued nibbling on Orion's earlobe, shooting Voldemort a mocking and taunting glance and looking as if he was having the best time of his life.

"We meet at last, Riddle," said Arian pleasantly, briefly giving a rest to Orion's ear in order to speak, while he covertly clutched Orion tighter in warning when Orion fidgeted and made an attempt to move.

Aborting his bid for escape, Orion glanced around warily, expecting the Death Eaters to start murmuring amongst them about the 'Riddle' form of address, or to start shouting. But nothing happened, and he realized that neither Death Eaters nor his Elite were hearing anything. Cunning wizard that he was, it seemed that Voldemort had instantly cast a muffling and anti-spying spell around the three of them.

"Arian Valenor, I presume," said Voldemort just as calmly, nothing indicating that he was in any way remotely displeased or that he didn't have the situation well under control. Though, his crimson eyes were dangerously narrowed as they flickered from Arian to Orion and back.

"The one and only," said Arian cheerfully, freeing a hand to give him a muggle-like military salute.

Voldemort's expression hardened, evidently not finding any amusement in it, but before he could speak again, Arian glanced down at Orion and then shot Voldemort a bright, pearly-white smile, as he asked conversationally, "Tell me, Riddle, how is he between the sheets?"

Not sparing Orion a glance, Voldemort elegantly arched an eyebrow as he said coolly, "Passable."

Orion choked on his own tongue.


End file.
